Why?
Good question.
I shouldn't have shown you how desperately desperate I was. It was embarassing and degrading - to a certain extent. But of course, crying over that stupid spilled milk is a waste. We are walking puzzle pieces, if you haven't already figured that out. A person is meant to fill only one part of this gigantic picture called life. The pieces that fit from all over us represents the most important people in our life. One will always stand out. One will stick like glue. Without that piece you are nothing but an organism with gaps.
That's why.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
the toast will always fall butter side down
Tuesday was supposed to be about moving forward. I was supposed to troop downtown, to that decrepit, old, dark, maze of a building, submit my resume, and wait for that phone call that would announce my acceptance as a staff nurse in their hospital. Except that today is not. I just realised that I had to do my laundry, lest I decide to walk about naked. That's why I don't like making plans.
I have had enough of blueprints and Murphy's Law. They almost always fall flat on your face and make you feel slow. Sometimes even stupid. And then you're back where you started - square one.
I have had enough of blueprints and Murphy's Law. They almost always fall flat on your face and make you feel slow. Sometimes even stupid. And then you're back where you started - square one.
Monday, December 14, 2009
then
I remember being ten. I remember how it was to think of nothing but play. I remember standing on the table while mom would clean me up after a day's work of running, and jumping, and skipping, and hopping. I remember how it was to feel as if the world revolved around you. I was the sun. Bright with flames.
I remember being fourteen. I remember rejection and pain. I remember confusion and restlessness. I remember how I always refused to be categorized. I remember reading, and long hours on the phone. I remember carefree laughs and public transport. Diaries stashed away under the bed. Thoughts whirling about in my head. I remember boys and giggles. I remember secrets and lives. I was the moon. I shine while people turn themselves off. White and pure.
I remember being seventeen. I remember how everything looked new to me. I looked and searched. I worried and paced. I studied and wrote and did homework. I remember University. I remember independence and long lines. I remember being quiet. I remember being shy. I was careful with words but I was careless with everything else. I hid and pondered.
I remember now. Now is sane and structured. Now is about order and places. Now is about searching and deep thought. Now is about being an adult. Now is about responsibilities and sanity. It is about keeping your head above the water. Now is difficult. Now I don't know...
But I do remember being ten.
I remember being fourteen. I remember rejection and pain. I remember confusion and restlessness. I remember how I always refused to be categorized. I remember reading, and long hours on the phone. I remember carefree laughs and public transport. Diaries stashed away under the bed. Thoughts whirling about in my head. I remember boys and giggles. I remember secrets and lives. I was the moon. I shine while people turn themselves off. White and pure.
I remember being seventeen. I remember how everything looked new to me. I looked and searched. I worried and paced. I studied and wrote and did homework. I remember University. I remember independence and long lines. I remember being quiet. I remember being shy. I was careful with words but I was careless with everything else. I hid and pondered.
I remember now. Now is sane and structured. Now is about order and places. Now is about searching and deep thought. Now is about being an adult. Now is about responsibilities and sanity. It is about keeping your head above the water. Now is difficult. Now I don't know...
But I do remember being ten.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
faith
Everyday, we make decisions. Where to go. What to do. How to get there. We live in a world of choices, yet, at times, we struggle and complain about not having the freedom to choose.
I am a creature of science, and as such, do not greatly believe in the influence of fate. When you get to the point of having to pick between forks in the road, does fate have anything to do with the path that you will choose? Do they null the mistakes you commit when you happen to have chosen the wrong road to take? When does fate end and responsibility begin?
You turn your head, look around you, and suddenly your perspective wavers. It is no longer about what you have, or what you can achieve, but rather, it becomes what they have that you don't. The world suddenly turns into a violent hand, slapping away at your consciousness, mocking you and asking more of that which you do not have. Then, you realise that you own nothing and drown in that nothingness that you perceive of. Is it valid then, to say that it is fate that chose your circumstance, in that moment?
Sometimes, we blame things and people other than ourselves, because it is easier that way. It is easier to have someone or something to throw knives at instead of being honest. No one desires to be on the receiving end of the guillotine, obviously. The blade is a tad too sharp and no one wants pain. Or death.
Still, in the deepest part of our hearts, we hope.
I am a creature of science, and as such, do not greatly believe in the influence of fate. When you get to the point of having to pick between forks in the road, does fate have anything to do with the path that you will choose? Do they null the mistakes you commit when you happen to have chosen the wrong road to take? When does fate end and responsibility begin?
You turn your head, look around you, and suddenly your perspective wavers. It is no longer about what you have, or what you can achieve, but rather, it becomes what they have that you don't. The world suddenly turns into a violent hand, slapping away at your consciousness, mocking you and asking more of that which you do not have. Then, you realise that you own nothing and drown in that nothingness that you perceive of. Is it valid then, to say that it is fate that chose your circumstance, in that moment?
Sometimes, we blame things and people other than ourselves, because it is easier that way. It is easier to have someone or something to throw knives at instead of being honest. No one desires to be on the receiving end of the guillotine, obviously. The blade is a tad too sharp and no one wants pain. Or death.
Still, in the deepest part of our hearts, we hope.
Monday, November 30, 2009
errr
It has, on more than one occasion, bothered me that I have this nook somewhere about the cyberspace that I have been neglecting for quite sometime. Visions of dust and white linen come to mind, an abandoned house in the outskirts of a town somewhere beyond the city. Uninhabited. Forgotten.
Monday, November 16, 2009
stumped
Like any other sane, human being, I have, on several occasions planned for things I wanted to have in my life. Some plans fail, while others get a rewrite as time goes by, still other plans push through. All of mine have fallen down the drain. Today, I have learned that as much as it is quite essential to plan for things, we have to be aware of it's fallibility. Planning, after all, is coupled with disappointments.
Friday, November 6, 2009
in case you were wondering or wandering
It's 7-ish in the morning and I am quite surprised at how I managed to get up. My attempts at trying to wake at such an hour for something important have failed a tad too miserably in the past and now, I uncharacteristically jumped out of bed with much enthusiasm that should not have reeked off of someone who, a minute ago, was in deep slumber.
I took a bite of food, well, okay, more than a bite really. I had a plateful of fried rice, stir-fried ampalaya, chicken adobo, three longganisas, and iced tea. Darn that was good. It disappeared all too quickly but my stomach isn't complaining. I am just sitting about, waiting for a couple of hours 'til my eyes would decide to take a few more hours of sleep. And that my friends, would explain why I am typing away.
The sun is shining with much delight, hinting at a very warm day ahead. It would be good to get ahead on the laundry but who ever does that when they can do either of two things today: read or write. Patience is a luxury for someone like me, tasked to carry out household chores that I might have gotten away with if I had a job, which is another blog post entirely. So today, I shall simply read and write the day's work away. It is quite inspiring to do much reading or writing when a clear blue day is calling out to you, to bask in all of its glory. And bask away, I shall.
I cannot say entirely, with much certainty, as to who and how many, wander about in this humble abode for my thoughts, on a daily basis. Really, I do not care. As I have often said, I was never one for an audience. Although some people do this with an entirely different reason than I am, I have never gone past the reason of simply wanting to tell a story. Writing after all is not coupled with thinking, it simply is the manifestation of one's desire to do so. I can't really vouch for the accurateness of that statement, I just heard it from some random movie a few days before, so don't take my word for it.
I have, quite unsuccessfully, tried to come up with several blogs for my thoughts, all to no avail. I have lost all desire, enthusiasm, energy, or what-have-yous a couple of entries away. I didn't have the time since nursing school thought it was fun to drain me of life during those years. Partly so, because I was hoping for a few nudges here and there, until I finally realised the importance of writing for my own satisfaction instead of someone else's. Or more accurately, because I was too bored which could be - and I think it really is - the reason for all this hoopla.
And.
Just because I have too much in my head. Everything is struggling to get away. Lest I turn utterly violent and/or psychotic, it would be best to drain some of 'em here. If you find yourself sucked into the vortex of my mental crap and have decided to create your own, my work is done. For it is in inspiring others, one can truly feel that sense of purpose. Recognition then, is immaterial.
I took a bite of food, well, okay, more than a bite really. I had a plateful of fried rice, stir-fried ampalaya, chicken adobo, three longganisas, and iced tea. Darn that was good. It disappeared all too quickly but my stomach isn't complaining. I am just sitting about, waiting for a couple of hours 'til my eyes would decide to take a few more hours of sleep. And that my friends, would explain why I am typing away.
The sun is shining with much delight, hinting at a very warm day ahead. It would be good to get ahead on the laundry but who ever does that when they can do either of two things today: read or write. Patience is a luxury for someone like me, tasked to carry out household chores that I might have gotten away with if I had a job, which is another blog post entirely. So today, I shall simply read and write the day's work away. It is quite inspiring to do much reading or writing when a clear blue day is calling out to you, to bask in all of its glory. And bask away, I shall.
I cannot say entirely, with much certainty, as to who and how many, wander about in this humble abode for my thoughts, on a daily basis. Really, I do not care. As I have often said, I was never one for an audience. Although some people do this with an entirely different reason than I am, I have never gone past the reason of simply wanting to tell a story. Writing after all is not coupled with thinking, it simply is the manifestation of one's desire to do so. I can't really vouch for the accurateness of that statement, I just heard it from some random movie a few days before, so don't take my word for it.
I have, quite unsuccessfully, tried to come up with several blogs for my thoughts, all to no avail. I have lost all desire, enthusiasm, energy, or what-have-yous a couple of entries away. I didn't have the time since nursing school thought it was fun to drain me of life during those years. Partly so, because I was hoping for a few nudges here and there, until I finally realised the importance of writing for my own satisfaction instead of someone else's. Or more accurately, because I was too bored which could be - and I think it really is - the reason for all this hoopla.
And.
Just because I have too much in my head. Everything is struggling to get away. Lest I turn utterly violent and/or psychotic, it would be best to drain some of 'em here. If you find yourself sucked into the vortex of my mental crap and have decided to create your own, my work is done. For it is in inspiring others, one can truly feel that sense of purpose. Recognition then, is immaterial.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
afternoon breaks and musings
It was a very warm afternoon. The sun was unabashed, it's rays hovering ever brighter as the hours sped before my eyes. I was wearing my usual house attire, had my hair pulled back in a bun, and yawning out of boredom, when I decided to take a break.
It would only take a mere two seconds for one to travel from where I was seated to the front porch. Living in a spatially limited home, traveling from one room to another doesn't take time or effort and it suits our family's temperament too. None of us are patient enough to want to live in a much larger home. They're very difficult to maintain, which would eventually lead to an argument of who gets to clean where. I spotted my dog sprawled between the porch columns, barking at everyone and everything that would catch her attention. I turned my head and I saw my grandmother 'cleaning rice' - so to speak. She would usually sit by the kitchen door, with her glasses on, carefully sifting through the generous amount of rice in front of her, removing the 'palay' (un-husked grain) meticulously. Today, she was positioned in the shade near her own porch, concentrating on her task at hand. I called out and she said 'Oi!', smiled, and continued on with her work.
Close to eighty, she doesn't look any older than other women in their mid-sixties. Come to think of it, none of my aunts - from my maternal side - look anywhere near their real age. My mum looks like she's in her early thirties instead of forty-nine or fifty. I on the other hand, am usually mistaken for a high school student instead of a professional. A very convenient trait passed down from mother to child.
For as long as I can remember, I have always loved watching my grandmother move while she carries on with her house work. Graceful and with a sense of purpose. I would usually compare her movements to that of my mum's - her daughter - and I would always think about how very much alike as well as very much different they are. Though they move with the same grace and pace, walk with the same speed, look much alike, something just seems quite different about one and the other that I can't seem to put my finger on. I wondered if my mother had ever thought of the same thing when she was my age, watching her own grandmother move about, or if my own grandmother had thought of that too. And I went on thinking about all of the women who came before me and their grandmothers and mothers, curious as to how I am alike or different from all of them.
I sat, thinking of all those women and the lives they had. What they went through, the people they met, their families, relatives, habits and quirks, the boys they fell in love with, their closest friends, their happiness and grief. To think that someone had a whole other life before me seem to set some things into perspective. There wasn't much to philosophize on, existentialist or otherwise, there was just raw curiosity.
People today tend to be much self absorbed with their daily goings-on and 'family' has suddenly fallen close second to work in terms of priorities. Today, it's all about money, bills to pay, the mortgage, credit card debts, and that rude boss at work. There I sat wondering if all of those women who came before me, ever worried about the things we worry about today. I wondered about the things that they did to ease their boredom, the stories that were passed on to them by their mothers, even their effort at trying to cool themselves in the kind of warm afternoon weather I was experiencing in that moment of deep thought.
While my grandmother and mother are asleep, I sit here, late at night, musing about the future. The time shall come that it would be my turn to be contemplated upon by my daughter's daughter, so on, and so forth...
It would only take a mere two seconds for one to travel from where I was seated to the front porch. Living in a spatially limited home, traveling from one room to another doesn't take time or effort and it suits our family's temperament too. None of us are patient enough to want to live in a much larger home. They're very difficult to maintain, which would eventually lead to an argument of who gets to clean where. I spotted my dog sprawled between the porch columns, barking at everyone and everything that would catch her attention. I turned my head and I saw my grandmother 'cleaning rice' - so to speak. She would usually sit by the kitchen door, with her glasses on, carefully sifting through the generous amount of rice in front of her, removing the 'palay' (un-husked grain) meticulously. Today, she was positioned in the shade near her own porch, concentrating on her task at hand. I called out and she said 'Oi!', smiled, and continued on with her work.
Close to eighty, she doesn't look any older than other women in their mid-sixties. Come to think of it, none of my aunts - from my maternal side - look anywhere near their real age. My mum looks like she's in her early thirties instead of forty-nine or fifty. I on the other hand, am usually mistaken for a high school student instead of a professional. A very convenient trait passed down from mother to child.
For as long as I can remember, I have always loved watching my grandmother move while she carries on with her house work. Graceful and with a sense of purpose. I would usually compare her movements to that of my mum's - her daughter - and I would always think about how very much alike as well as very much different they are. Though they move with the same grace and pace, walk with the same speed, look much alike, something just seems quite different about one and the other that I can't seem to put my finger on. I wondered if my mother had ever thought of the same thing when she was my age, watching her own grandmother move about, or if my own grandmother had thought of that too. And I went on thinking about all of the women who came before me and their grandmothers and mothers, curious as to how I am alike or different from all of them.
I sat, thinking of all those women and the lives they had. What they went through, the people they met, their families, relatives, habits and quirks, the boys they fell in love with, their closest friends, their happiness and grief. To think that someone had a whole other life before me seem to set some things into perspective. There wasn't much to philosophize on, existentialist or otherwise, there was just raw curiosity.
People today tend to be much self absorbed with their daily goings-on and 'family' has suddenly fallen close second to work in terms of priorities. Today, it's all about money, bills to pay, the mortgage, credit card debts, and that rude boss at work. There I sat wondering if all of those women who came before me, ever worried about the things we worry about today. I wondered about the things that they did to ease their boredom, the stories that were passed on to them by their mothers, even their effort at trying to cool themselves in the kind of warm afternoon weather I was experiencing in that moment of deep thought.
While my grandmother and mother are asleep, I sit here, late at night, musing about the future. The time shall come that it would be my turn to be contemplated upon by my daughter's daughter, so on, and so forth...
what else is new
The sound of the soft rain pouring on the tin roof of our humble abode is a welcoming change in the sensory pace. For days (could be months, perhaps) the city has been under the glow of the very scorching sun. A downside of living in a country situated somewhere around the equator. I would complain 'cept that the heat has evaporated every piece of bitchiness from my pores, so I just won't. It can be quite tiring and I'm not in the mood. It's all good people.
Another sleepless night for me. Hope someone else is having a better evening. Be back when I am less lazy.
Another sleepless night for me. Hope someone else is having a better evening. Be back when I am less lazy.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
my greatest fear
I thought I saw a light at the end of this very dark, very long tunnel.
For weeks, I have not made an effort to update my dailies. Honestly, I don't know why I even bother. I thought this would finally let me explore the possibilities I have before me. Every few minutes, at the crack of dawn, my mind would swirl with thoughts trying to find their way out of the jungle that is my brain. This was something I thought I could commit to. Something I was finally going to get right. But like everything I am currently trudging through, this is, once again, an epic fail.
I don't know if writing that down would make me feel any better, to tell you the truth, I don't really feel anything right now. Maybe I could fix this.
It's a very long tunnel. And it's starting to feel rather hopeless. But I trudge anyway.
For weeks, I have not made an effort to update my dailies. Honestly, I don't know why I even bother. I thought this would finally let me explore the possibilities I have before me. Every few minutes, at the crack of dawn, my mind would swirl with thoughts trying to find their way out of the jungle that is my brain. This was something I thought I could commit to. Something I was finally going to get right. But like everything I am currently trudging through, this is, once again, an epic fail.
I don't know if writing that down would make me feel any better, to tell you the truth, I don't really feel anything right now. Maybe I could fix this.
It's a very long tunnel. And it's starting to feel rather hopeless. But I trudge anyway.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
me. heart. you.
I tried.
To come up with something witty and creative is a feat. Something that doesn't crop up when you need it to or when it is necessary. I cannot say that it comes with practice because I haven't practiced for far too long. I started out thinking that I have this inexhaustible capacity to come up with something good but so far it's been crap. I suppose I always knew that someday I was going to run out of something to write about but I never expected it to happen this fast. I am an uncharacteristically mute writer. So this must be blogger's block.
These past few days, I never got past staring. From the moment I would click that New Post button, the blankness of the unwritten page would swallow me alive. Like Jonah and that monstrous whale. Well, he did get out, I just can't say the same thing for myself. I have no idea how long my brain plans to idle about in this black hole - this mental paralytic state that feels more like a humongous red brick wall that is keeping me enclosed in this state of non-creativity. At least, I can still break down my thoughts into specifics. Obsessive Compulsive feels homey.
But today isn't about me. It's about that person who taught me what happiness is about. Who made a big difference in my life, simply by existing. I am going to risk sounding cheesy here but I don't really care, people.
We've known each other for a couple of years and a half, give or take a few months or so. It was an unlikely friendship but it flourished despite the obvious differences that we have, more so, that we are. If you could turn back time and ask me if I thought we had a chance at a romantic relationship, I would have probably said no. Life is funny that way. You can never be too sure about tomorrow. Like gifts on Christmas, we were always told that we were given what we deserved. No one ever told me what I did right to deserve someone like him. He would always ask me why I love him, as if in disbelief at how I could have given my heart to someone like him. I would always say that I do not know - really I don't - that I just do. I am not really sure about this theory but it is believed that love without reason lasts the longest. I suppose we shall find out in a few years' time eh? I plan on being the truth to that hypothesis.
Shall I make a list instead? I am starting to discover how very convenient lists can be when it comes to things that can never be justified by a simple sentence. Let's call this the "I love it when you..." list.
To come up with something witty and creative is a feat. Something that doesn't crop up when you need it to or when it is necessary. I cannot say that it comes with practice because I haven't practiced for far too long. I started out thinking that I have this inexhaustible capacity to come up with something good but so far it's been crap. I suppose I always knew that someday I was going to run out of something to write about but I never expected it to happen this fast. I am an uncharacteristically mute writer. So this must be blogger's block.
These past few days, I never got past staring. From the moment I would click that New Post button, the blankness of the unwritten page would swallow me alive. Like Jonah and that monstrous whale. Well, he did get out, I just can't say the same thing for myself. I have no idea how long my brain plans to idle about in this black hole - this mental paralytic state that feels more like a humongous red brick wall that is keeping me enclosed in this state of non-creativity. At least, I can still break down my thoughts into specifics. Obsessive Compulsive feels homey.
But today isn't about me. It's about that person who taught me what happiness is about. Who made a big difference in my life, simply by existing. I am going to risk sounding cheesy here but I don't really care, people.
We've known each other for a couple of years and a half, give or take a few months or so. It was an unlikely friendship but it flourished despite the obvious differences that we have, more so, that we are. If you could turn back time and ask me if I thought we had a chance at a romantic relationship, I would have probably said no. Life is funny that way. You can never be too sure about tomorrow. Like gifts on Christmas, we were always told that we were given what we deserved. No one ever told me what I did right to deserve someone like him. He would always ask me why I love him, as if in disbelief at how I could have given my heart to someone like him. I would always say that I do not know - really I don't - that I just do. I am not really sure about this theory but it is believed that love without reason lasts the longest. I suppose we shall find out in a few years' time eh? I plan on being the truth to that hypothesis.
Shall I make a list instead? I am starting to discover how very convenient lists can be when it comes to things that can never be justified by a simple sentence. Let's call this the "I love it when you..." list.
I love it when you...
- When you sing me to sleep at night. When we talk on the phone 'til the wee hours, you would never say no when I would ask you to sing me to sleep. When you would run out of songs to sing, your constant humming is the lullaby that makes me feel at ease. No matter how anxious or agitated I am, when you sing me to sleep, everything is right with the world. I would close my eyes knowing that I would dream happy dreams.
- When you would call me all the possible words that mankind has invented under the category of terms of endearment. When you call me baby or honey, when you would say 'I love you cupcake!' or say 'Hey, sweetie!'
- When you say 'It's okay baby, everything will be alright'. Everytime you reassure me, it makes me feel secured. Still and steady. That no matter what happens, you will always be there for me whispering words of encouragement and I would, immediately, believe that everything will be alright. Because you said so.
- When you laugh. I know, I know, it sounds silly. But I loooovvveee it when you laugh. Just because.
- When you would argue with me about the littlest, and the silliest things. And I especially love it when you would give up and let me have my way.
- When you spoil me rotten. And you often do that without realising that you are doing it.
- When we would fight over the little things and when you would say sorry. It's really cute when you say 'Sorry na...' in that cute baby voice. It makes it hard for me to be angry with you. If you use that against me, I will bash you mister!
- When you would hold my waist when walking or crossing the street. I'm sure you've never really given this a moment's worth of thought, but it makes me feel protected. Like Superman to Lois Lane, I do not feel like I have to watch my back when covering a story for the Daily Planet because Clark Kent is looking out for me.
- When you have your arms around me in a tight bear hug. I literally feel like I could stay that way forever.
- When you would attempt to deliver a corny joke. The joke doesn't make me laugh. It's the way you say it that never fails to crack me up.
- You might not have realised this but I love how you, not only take care of me, but how you take care of our relationship as well. I love how you make me feel that what we have is important. I love how you give our relationship as much attention as the other things you have to deal with on a daily basis - even when you don't have to. Despite how I am unbearably missing you, I've never felt the distance because you made me feel like all those landforms and bodies of water are immaterial to our relationship.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
bayanihan
I have lost tract. Shamefully lost perspective.
I started out with such high spirits, visions floating about in my tireless, thinking brain, I had this insatiable desire to narrate a story. I suppose a few days of absence doesn't necessarily count as an epic fail but it sure does feel like it to me. Besides, who would want to read the trivial-daily-goings-on of some twenty-something, complex person who uses too much words and writes too much of the mundane right? It isn't a question of the amount of people lurking about in this blog but about the desire to write. I was never one for an audience - all I ever set out to do was to satisfy this passion for writing. I had forgotten. Waking up, the sweltering morning air unusually suffocating, unable to drift back to sleep, I am reminded of why I am in love with writing. Today, I shall set out to do something that will not benefit me, but will shed light into the collective experience of my country and my people at a time like this.
I suppose it would not be a far off assumption to say that we had underestimated it. We have always thought ourselves used to the idea of having to endure the plight of the typhoons especially since we are the most vulnerable to experiencing it as opposed to those who live in other parts of the globe. We waved our hands in response to what we thought of as inconsequential, shrugged our shoulders, and went on with our dailies. The first few, seemingly harmless weather reports quickly turned into gruesome updates on the number of dead bodies found and numerous others who were (and still are) missing. Cars were strewn across every nook and cranny of the metropolis, homes were submerged in flood water - nothing was spared. It was something straight out of an apocalyptic movie.
How easy it is to lose everything in a turn of a second.
Living in the far south did not exempt us from having to experience a few hours worth of stormy weather. It left our house with just a leaking roof and a few days worth of having to trudge in puddles of mud. It did not, however, leave our city without anything to mourn. Last I heard, a family living in one of our city's slums lost a child to a raging river flood. Families in the country's metropolis suffered a fate that would make any director of a drama film hide in his shallow portrayal of emotions. The word Grief somehow does not seem to cover the feelings of those who have lost everything they have, those who have lost their mothers, fathers, siblings, friends. The word does not even seem appropriate for those whose humble means of living were washed away. Grief just doesn't sum it up. It does not give anything justice.
Now that we are about to endure Pepeng's wrath, let us remember the things that Ondoy taught us. That a house is something that can be washed away but the lives of your loved ones that make it a home are irreplaceable. That things are just that - things. That we should learn to be a little less materialistic and a little more humanistic. That the word help is a verb and not a word meant to simply decorate one's sentence to make it feel like it has a purpose. That the Filipino people has shown how generous we can be to others - to our countrymen - despite having very little ourselves. That not having much doesn't mean that we ought to give less. That we can share more than what our pockets can afford.
On that note, you can visit Bianca Gonzales' blog or visit ABS-CBN News Online to know more about how and what you can do to help the typhoon victims. More than money, the country needs all the help we can get - we need volunteers and people who are willing to donate their services (financial or otherwise) to help rebuild what we have lost. If you live overseas or live in the country but are too far away to volunteer your services (like me), please help spread the word. Prayers are needed and are more than appreciated as well. One super typhoon down, one more to go.
This is what writing is all about. Viva Filipinos!
I started out with such high spirits, visions floating about in my tireless, thinking brain, I had this insatiable desire to narrate a story. I suppose a few days of absence doesn't necessarily count as an epic fail but it sure does feel like it to me. Besides, who would want to read the trivial-daily-goings-on of some twenty-something, complex person who uses too much words and writes too much of the mundane right? It isn't a question of the amount of people lurking about in this blog but about the desire to write. I was never one for an audience - all I ever set out to do was to satisfy this passion for writing. I had forgotten. Waking up, the sweltering morning air unusually suffocating, unable to drift back to sleep, I am reminded of why I am in love with writing. Today, I shall set out to do something that will not benefit me, but will shed light into the collective experience of my country and my people at a time like this.
I suppose it would not be a far off assumption to say that we had underestimated it. We have always thought ourselves used to the idea of having to endure the plight of the typhoons especially since we are the most vulnerable to experiencing it as opposed to those who live in other parts of the globe. We waved our hands in response to what we thought of as inconsequential, shrugged our shoulders, and went on with our dailies. The first few, seemingly harmless weather reports quickly turned into gruesome updates on the number of dead bodies found and numerous others who were (and still are) missing. Cars were strewn across every nook and cranny of the metropolis, homes were submerged in flood water - nothing was spared. It was something straight out of an apocalyptic movie.
How easy it is to lose everything in a turn of a second.
Living in the far south did not exempt us from having to experience a few hours worth of stormy weather. It left our house with just a leaking roof and a few days worth of having to trudge in puddles of mud. It did not, however, leave our city without anything to mourn. Last I heard, a family living in one of our city's slums lost a child to a raging river flood. Families in the country's metropolis suffered a fate that would make any director of a drama film hide in his shallow portrayal of emotions. The word Grief somehow does not seem to cover the feelings of those who have lost everything they have, those who have lost their mothers, fathers, siblings, friends. The word does not even seem appropriate for those whose humble means of living were washed away. Grief just doesn't sum it up. It does not give anything justice.
Now that we are about to endure Pepeng's wrath, let us remember the things that Ondoy taught us. That a house is something that can be washed away but the lives of your loved ones that make it a home are irreplaceable. That things are just that - things. That we should learn to be a little less materialistic and a little more humanistic. That the word help is a verb and not a word meant to simply decorate one's sentence to make it feel like it has a purpose. That the Filipino people has shown how generous we can be to others - to our countrymen - despite having very little ourselves. That not having much doesn't mean that we ought to give less. That we can share more than what our pockets can afford.
On that note, you can visit Bianca Gonzales' blog or visit ABS-CBN News Online to know more about how and what you can do to help the typhoon victims. More than money, the country needs all the help we can get - we need volunteers and people who are willing to donate their services (financial or otherwise) to help rebuild what we have lost. If you live overseas or live in the country but are too far away to volunteer your services (like me), please help spread the word. Prayers are needed and are more than appreciated as well. One super typhoon down, one more to go.
This is what writing is all about. Viva Filipinos!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
back
The last day of September has come. It's hard to believe I've actually reached the one month mark.
Looking back on all that I have written, I now realized, I have been keeping a lot of things in my head. The trivial and the mundane, sometimes even those that are too deep for my mental faculties to analyze. It feels good to have this blog as a medium for my mental flushing, an avenue of sorts that is keeping me sane by excreting all of the mental crap that is plaguing my stressed brain.
These past few days saw the first mental breakdown. Intellectual constipation. A disarray in the heavens caused a cataclysmic, cosmic effect that resulted in the absence of the great moi. May I enumerate instead? Good words are sucked into the great black hole and I have to finish this before midnight. Just so I can feel like it's actually a month instead of twenty three days. To build myself up despite this fake achievement. Let us hope I can actually remember what transpired the previous week.
September 24 - The rain decided to make a visit and tagging with it the cold wind. It was blissful at first but quickly turned horrific when thunder and lighting decided to join the group. My dog still did not feel like eating or drinking. She just slept all day. Worry raised to the power of ten.
September 25 - Errr.. I do not remember. Pass.
September 26 - Daddy and I were now into full blown panic because the dog seemed extremely weak. Because she hasn't eaten anything for days, tail-wagging looked like a herculean effort to her. I cried.
September 27 - Morning. We took her to an uncle who was a retired veterinarian. The sweet little furry darling was still too weak. We had to carry her around like a baby. She was uncharacteristically non squeamish. Afternoon. We took her to a clinic and the vet started her on intravenous fluids. It was a long night.
September 28 - I had to keep a close eye on her lest she decides to wrench the IV off her leg. She was very good about keeping her arm straight at all times. I could see she understood that she needed that to get back to her healthy old self. Fought sleep for a second night.
September 29 - We decided to take off her IV since I could see her arm was swelling and the fluid was no longer dripping. I did not want her to have to endure phlebitis so I took it off. She was eating by then and it was good to see her gulp her water without having to introduce it to her via a dropper. We were relieved to see her eating a plateful of food and drinking lots of fluids.
September 30 - Prepositionally challenged day. Speaking like a jungle person. Jungle person now need sleep. Jungle person say goodnight.
Jungle person log off.
Looking back on all that I have written, I now realized, I have been keeping a lot of things in my head. The trivial and the mundane, sometimes even those that are too deep for my mental faculties to analyze. It feels good to have this blog as a medium for my mental flushing, an avenue of sorts that is keeping me sane by excreting all of the mental crap that is plaguing my stressed brain.
These past few days saw the first mental breakdown. Intellectual constipation. A disarray in the heavens caused a cataclysmic, cosmic effect that resulted in the absence of the great moi. May I enumerate instead? Good words are sucked into the great black hole and I have to finish this before midnight. Just so I can feel like it's actually a month instead of twenty three days. To build myself up despite this fake achievement. Let us hope I can actually remember what transpired the previous week.
September 24 - The rain decided to make a visit and tagging with it the cold wind. It was blissful at first but quickly turned horrific when thunder and lighting decided to join the group. My dog still did not feel like eating or drinking. She just slept all day. Worry raised to the power of ten.
September 25 - Errr.. I do not remember. Pass.
September 26 - Daddy and I were now into full blown panic because the dog seemed extremely weak. Because she hasn't eaten anything for days, tail-wagging looked like a herculean effort to her. I cried.
September 27 - Morning. We took her to an uncle who was a retired veterinarian. The sweet little furry darling was still too weak. We had to carry her around like a baby. She was uncharacteristically non squeamish. Afternoon. We took her to a clinic and the vet started her on intravenous fluids. It was a long night.
September 28 - I had to keep a close eye on her lest she decides to wrench the IV off her leg. She was very good about keeping her arm straight at all times. I could see she understood that she needed that to get back to her healthy old self. Fought sleep for a second night.
September 29 - We decided to take off her IV since I could see her arm was swelling and the fluid was no longer dripping. I did not want her to have to endure phlebitis so I took it off. She was eating by then and it was good to see her gulp her water without having to introduce it to her via a dropper. We were relieved to see her eating a plateful of food and drinking lots of fluids.
September 30 - Prepositionally challenged day. Speaking like a jungle person. Jungle person now need sleep. Jungle person say goodnight.
Jungle person log off.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
baby
At twenty-something, I haven't yet thought about parenting. Despite discussing future plans about marriage with ze boyfriend, I've always thought kids were an idea never to be discussed except when they actually happen. I do love babies. Babies. Pudgy cheeks and cherubic features that smile and need not be fed or changed. The kind that you could borrow for a couple of hours, something that can be returned to the person who spawned it when it poops. So you see, I am not ready to parent a tiny, screaming, high-maintenance infant yet. I still need parenting myself. As to why I thought I could handle a dog is still a mystery to me.
Five years ago, sophomore year in college, a close friend asked if I would be willing to adopt a dog. Because I had cared for a cat when I was younger, I thought caring for a dog would be the same. Feed it, bathe it, a little pat now and then and that's it. Only a few months after did I realize what a big responsibility it was to take care of something so fragile as a pup. I expected my Mother to take care of the darling little thing since I always had school work to finish. Oh boy. When your parents teach you responsibility, they teach you responsibility. There were times when I'd come home from the hospital late at night, folders bulging with things I needed to finish by dawn, that Mum covered for me.
For someone who has always been cared for, caring for something besides myself felt like a chore. Like doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. It was hard work. It felt like hard work. A year passed and the sweet little pup grew big enough that I couldn't lift her without breaking my spine. Because she dislikes bathing, I always had to carry her around when it was time to clean her up. It was then that Mum decided I needed help. It did not even take a year for us before we felt like we had another member of the family. A baby.
She has always been there for me, an unfailing support system that kept me sane. Someone I could confide in without fear of ridicule. Someone who loves me unconditionally. She sleeps when I sleep, eat when I eat, do everything I do. Like a shadow. Like an extension of myself, an extension of my personality. She is spoiled rotten and given everything she wants. She hates dog food and prefers human food instead. She loves ice cream and cake frosting. She adores meat too. She has sole ownership of the couch and she knows when to demand that we take things off her territory. She knows how to ask for attention too.
This afternoon, I noticed she wasn't in her best mood. I don't think she is feeling as fit as a fiddle as of a while back. Mother's instinct, you know. Now I am worried sick. I hope it's not a tummy bug or something. She doesn't have fever and she seems to be sleeping soundly. Tongue out, she's sprawled over her favorite place. Beside me. I think I'd stay up late. Just to watch her breathe. In case she would ask for anything, ya know. I really hope - and pray - she'll be okay and back to barking at new things by tomorrow. Yes, that's her and Mums legs. Haha.
Five years ago, sophomore year in college, a close friend asked if I would be willing to adopt a dog. Because I had cared for a cat when I was younger, I thought caring for a dog would be the same. Feed it, bathe it, a little pat now and then and that's it. Only a few months after did I realize what a big responsibility it was to take care of something so fragile as a pup. I expected my Mother to take care of the darling little thing since I always had school work to finish. Oh boy. When your parents teach you responsibility, they teach you responsibility. There were times when I'd come home from the hospital late at night, folders bulging with things I needed to finish by dawn, that Mum covered for me.
For someone who has always been cared for, caring for something besides myself felt like a chore. Like doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. It was hard work. It felt like hard work. A year passed and the sweet little pup grew big enough that I couldn't lift her without breaking my spine. Because she dislikes bathing, I always had to carry her around when it was time to clean her up. It was then that Mum decided I needed help. It did not even take a year for us before we felt like we had another member of the family. A baby.
She has always been there for me, an unfailing support system that kept me sane. Someone I could confide in without fear of ridicule. Someone who loves me unconditionally. She sleeps when I sleep, eat when I eat, do everything I do. Like a shadow. Like an extension of myself, an extension of my personality. She is spoiled rotten and given everything she wants. She hates dog food and prefers human food instead. She loves ice cream and cake frosting. She adores meat too. She has sole ownership of the couch and she knows when to demand that we take things off her territory. She knows how to ask for attention too.
dream home
It must be beside a huge lake.
The clear water reflecting the beauty of the blue sky, its floor tickling my feet and looking down, you can clearly see the bottom of it filled with underwater beauties. A fish or two would be nice too. A diving board at its deepest part would tempt me to swim to its depths and I would not know fear. The lush green mountaintops and trees covering every part of it, shadowing the blazing rays of the sun. The scent of flowers perfuming everything and every time I would decide to leave it for a while, I would always smell like them.
It must have a bridge. As to what it bridges, I don't care, as long as it has a bridge. It must be made of wood, dark and sturdy bridging two unreachable ends. The ends must be covered in a canopy of vines with flowers sticking out of it everywhere, of blue and yellow and pink, of all colors of the rainbow. A carpet of soft grass catching every tumble and fall. Because I am exceptionally clumsy, tripping over the smallest things isn't unusual. A carpet of soft grass would do the trick. It won't help with the constant battle with the vertical but it would make the fall much more desirable.
The yard must be wide. A hammock nestled between two large trees and a birdbath situated a little to the left. It would have enough room for a dog or two to run around without care. The carpet of grass providing us with cushioning lest we decide to take a nap outside. A picnic would be nice. Maybe every Sunday. It would never feel scorching under the shade of a hundred trees, with the wind blowing every now and then keeping us free from sweat.
Tall lemonade glasses would keep us refreshed all throughout the afternoon. Our hair blowing about in response to the cool wind, we would spend time talking about the most mundane things in the world. Time would not exist in this paradise. There would be no clock to remind us of what time of the day it was.
The porch must wrap around the two story abode. Entwine it in its beauty. There must be window seats too. Rooms must be flooded with light coming in from numerous wide windows. Beds must be made with only the softest sheets and a hundred fluffy pillows to lay our heads at night. In this place, I shall only dream of pretty pink and blue dreams, never a nightmare to wake me up at night. And when the roosters would call out reminding us of sunrise, I would wake up with him next to me.
The clear water reflecting the beauty of the blue sky, its floor tickling my feet and looking down, you can clearly see the bottom of it filled with underwater beauties. A fish or two would be nice too. A diving board at its deepest part would tempt me to swim to its depths and I would not know fear. The lush green mountaintops and trees covering every part of it, shadowing the blazing rays of the sun. The scent of flowers perfuming everything and every time I would decide to leave it for a while, I would always smell like them.
It must have a bridge. As to what it bridges, I don't care, as long as it has a bridge. It must be made of wood, dark and sturdy bridging two unreachable ends. The ends must be covered in a canopy of vines with flowers sticking out of it everywhere, of blue and yellow and pink, of all colors of the rainbow. A carpet of soft grass catching every tumble and fall. Because I am exceptionally clumsy, tripping over the smallest things isn't unusual. A carpet of soft grass would do the trick. It won't help with the constant battle with the vertical but it would make the fall much more desirable.
The yard must be wide. A hammock nestled between two large trees and a birdbath situated a little to the left. It would have enough room for a dog or two to run around without care. The carpet of grass providing us with cushioning lest we decide to take a nap outside. A picnic would be nice. Maybe every Sunday. It would never feel scorching under the shade of a hundred trees, with the wind blowing every now and then keeping us free from sweat.
Tall lemonade glasses would keep us refreshed all throughout the afternoon. Our hair blowing about in response to the cool wind, we would spend time talking about the most mundane things in the world. Time would not exist in this paradise. There would be no clock to remind us of what time of the day it was.
The porch must wrap around the two story abode. Entwine it in its beauty. There must be window seats too. Rooms must be flooded with light coming in from numerous wide windows. Beds must be made with only the softest sheets and a hundred fluffy pillows to lay our heads at night. In this place, I shall only dream of pretty pink and blue dreams, never a nightmare to wake me up at night. And when the roosters would call out reminding us of sunrise, I would wake up with him next to me.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
faith
Today has been utterly frustrating. It was one of those days that left me without anything to keep me busy that I resorted to enumerating the things I haven't yet achieved at this age and in this stage of my life. I look at all those boasting about what they had already achieved and their current status in life and it was something you don't want to see when you are contemplating your career and ticking off the things you don't have at the moment.
It took a while before I remembered something I read a very long time ago that never fails to make me feel like I have a fighting chance. The author wrote a very touching and inspiring piece of written work. It wasn't famous and I don't think the author had popularity in mind. It was something that was written in the simplest way using the simplest words. It sought to inspire and it did inspire me. It was God talking through a letter published in a local magazine and the message said something like: Stop looking around at the things I have given others. Just keep looking up at me. It never fails to snap me out of my envy and remember that I have more than what I want and even more than what I need. He will provide. I just need to believe in Him and believe in the me that He believes in.
In his name, I will push through.
It took a while before I remembered something I read a very long time ago that never fails to make me feel like I have a fighting chance. The author wrote a very touching and inspiring piece of written work. It wasn't famous and I don't think the author had popularity in mind. It was something that was written in the simplest way using the simplest words. It sought to inspire and it did inspire me. It was God talking through a letter published in a local magazine and the message said something like: Stop looking around at the things I have given others. Just keep looking up at me. It never fails to snap me out of my envy and remember that I have more than what I want and even more than what I need. He will provide. I just need to believe in Him and believe in the me that He believes in.
In his name, I will push through.
Monday, September 21, 2009
waterworld
I had planned to immortalize yesterdays excursion into a blog post but as it turned out, all I had in me was a sentence. I was too tired and too sleepy that I could not even think of anything but my bed and how comfortable it looked to my aching muscles.
You see, the family went to a resort to celebrate our cousin's ninth birthday. I did not plan on swimming my ass off but the pool water looked extremely tempting and very blue. I learned later on that it was spring water that filled the adult pool and the kiddie pool - which would explain how refreshingly cool it was. It was like dipping in warm ice. It was surprisingly soft on the skin unlike hard and salty beach water. After traveling that far and sitting my ass on the vehicle for that long, it was worth it.
We took tons of pictures, ate a week's worth of food, laughed a lot, and while the women gossiped to their heart's content, the men kept themselves busy with barbecuing that when it was time to eat, we were all famished that we ate everything with much gusto and without care. For once, ignoring table manners felt extremely liberating and fun. After stuffing ourselves we went back to the pool and while everybody who could reach the floor of the eight-feet deep pool swam like dolphins in a frenzy, I settled for dipping myself by the pool stairs. I used to swim. If you can call floating about the water swimming. After a drowning incident at a pool a few months back, I do not think I am ever going to attempt to swim anytime soon. I am content with just immersing myself in water.
After our last hurrah at the water and after the last few shots of pictures were taken, we all headed back home while the rain poured. It was just unfortunate that I had water stuck in my ears. This morning I woke up happy because the water left no evidence of its visit in my ear canal. It was quite a different story for the other parts of my body. My neck, back, arms and legs feels exceptionally sore and I'm betting on this to last a few more days.
A little message to all of those stressing themselves out at work: Take a day off and spend it with family. It may be expensive and tiring but it's worth it and fun. Enjoy!
You see, the family went to a resort to celebrate our cousin's ninth birthday. I did not plan on swimming my ass off but the pool water looked extremely tempting and very blue. I learned later on that it was spring water that filled the adult pool and the kiddie pool - which would explain how refreshingly cool it was. It was like dipping in warm ice. It was surprisingly soft on the skin unlike hard and salty beach water. After traveling that far and sitting my ass on the vehicle for that long, it was worth it.
We took tons of pictures, ate a week's worth of food, laughed a lot, and while the women gossiped to their heart's content, the men kept themselves busy with barbecuing that when it was time to eat, we were all famished that we ate everything with much gusto and without care. For once, ignoring table manners felt extremely liberating and fun. After stuffing ourselves we went back to the pool and while everybody who could reach the floor of the eight-feet deep pool swam like dolphins in a frenzy, I settled for dipping myself by the pool stairs. I used to swim. If you can call floating about the water swimming. After a drowning incident at a pool a few months back, I do not think I am ever going to attempt to swim anytime soon. I am content with just immersing myself in water.
After our last hurrah at the water and after the last few shots of pictures were taken, we all headed back home while the rain poured. It was just unfortunate that I had water stuck in my ears. This morning I woke up happy because the water left no evidence of its visit in my ear canal. It was quite a different story for the other parts of my body. My neck, back, arms and legs feels exceptionally sore and I'm betting on this to last a few more days.
A little message to all of those stressing themselves out at work: Take a day off and spend it with family. It may be expensive and tiring but it's worth it and fun. Enjoy!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
stuck
If it wasn't for the water that is clogging my ears, I wouldn't cry like a freakin' baby without formula.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
finally!
I was supposed to grudgingly create another nonsensical post but decided against it a few minutes after I started typing the first few words. I only had about a couple of hours of sleep before the very warm air of dawn woke me up. I was too sleepy to even think of anything worth writing but I felt like I owe it to myself to make good on my dailies. It was then that I realised there was something odd about the net. It was as if a chorus of angels suddenly appeared out of nowhere belting out the words Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! It took all of my zombie strength to snap myself out of thinking that I also heard bells. The freakin' internet is back!
Oh yes, it's back!
Oh yes, it's back!
Friday, September 18, 2009
happiness
I was supposed to awake at the crack of dawn because the stupid internet connection is still acting up and two in the morning is the time when it doesn't get too stubborn that I am seething with anger. Now that did not happen. Yes, it's still running at the speed of snail but no, I wasn't able to get up because I was enjoying my sleep.
Last night was ze boyfriend's scheduled off and for two nights in a row we'll be talking from eleven 'til sunrise. You see, ze boyfriend is working in the country's capital and moi? I am living somewhere in the far south. We have developed a routine and the relationship is going strong. Unlike other couples who were forced to part because of distance, neither of us believed that it is a force strong enough to drive us apart. I admit, it is difficult, but it is not entirely impossible.
Anyway, despite my very good sleep a while back, I still feel as though my eyelids are made of steel and I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I need to get back to bed and wait for tonight when once again, I would get to hear his strong, comforting voice that never fails to exude the feeling that, no matter what happens, I am safe because I am with him. Five days of insomnia and very bad sleep is worth two nights of listening to him speak. Because I am sure that, a few hours after, sleep will be blissful with him in my thoughts and his voice singing me to sleep.
Heck. I am a lucky girl.
Last night was ze boyfriend's scheduled off and for two nights in a row we'll be talking from eleven 'til sunrise. You see, ze boyfriend is working in the country's capital and moi? I am living somewhere in the far south. We have developed a routine and the relationship is going strong. Unlike other couples who were forced to part because of distance, neither of us believed that it is a force strong enough to drive us apart. I admit, it is difficult, but it is not entirely impossible.
Anyway, despite my very good sleep a while back, I still feel as though my eyelids are made of steel and I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I need to get back to bed and wait for tonight when once again, I would get to hear his strong, comforting voice that never fails to exude the feeling that, no matter what happens, I am safe because I am with him. Five days of insomnia and very bad sleep is worth two nights of listening to him speak. Because I am sure that, a few hours after, sleep will be blissful with him in my thoughts and his voice singing me to sleep.
Heck. I am a lucky girl.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
slow
I slept for all of two hours and woke up around three-ish. My phone's alarm was set on vibrate and goodness, to someone who was still half asleep, it felt like the earth was shaking. I got up despite feeling the magnetic pull of my bed. I decided I could sacrifice another morning of blissful sleep if it meant relief from the warm morning air. I have been sleep deprived these past four years at least, one morning wouldn't cause the apocalypse. I drank my water, ice cold. It was good.
I was planning on writing right out of bed but the 'rents were hovering so I decided against it and waited 'til no one lingered around where I was. The living room atmosphere was pleasantly cool with a small-sized industrial fan keeping me calm and free from perspiration. I proceeded with reviewing the things I already wrote and decided to delete one post. Go figure. I'm not saying which. Besides, I don't think anyone is reading any of this so there really is no point in publishing the demise of one of my written works. It's hardly Shakespearean material. The world will live.
Fighting hunger, I resisted the urge to wolf down a chocolate coated, chocolate filled, chocolate cookie (yum!) and decided to wait for real breakfast food. I don't know how long I'm going to last knowing that a sweet treat is lurking around the house just waiting to be devoured. I give myself fifteen more minutes.
The tv was alive and a morning news show was on but I was ignoring the hum of enthusiastic voices, drowning them out with the constant buzzing of my thoughts. I am at a loss for words and feeling a little frustrated that I couldn't come up with something sensible to blog about. I suppose nothing ever happens at this time of the day so I just have to make do with something mediocre and trivial. Like that chocolate coated, chocolate filled, chocolate cookie. Too bad we're out of fresh milk.
Ha. It's just a little over fifteen minutes. I can see that my effort at trying to control my human wants are improving. I hope that my effort at trying to think of something intellectually stimulating to write would somehow follow suite. In the meantime, I can feel the sweetness calling me...
I was planning on writing right out of bed but the 'rents were hovering so I decided against it and waited 'til no one lingered around where I was. The living room atmosphere was pleasantly cool with a small-sized industrial fan keeping me calm and free from perspiration. I proceeded with reviewing the things I already wrote and decided to delete one post. Go figure. I'm not saying which. Besides, I don't think anyone is reading any of this so there really is no point in publishing the demise of one of my written works. It's hardly Shakespearean material. The world will live.
Fighting hunger, I resisted the urge to wolf down a chocolate coated, chocolate filled, chocolate cookie (yum!) and decided to wait for real breakfast food. I don't know how long I'm going to last knowing that a sweet treat is lurking around the house just waiting to be devoured. I give myself fifteen more minutes.
The tv was alive and a morning news show was on but I was ignoring the hum of enthusiastic voices, drowning them out with the constant buzzing of my thoughts. I am at a loss for words and feeling a little frustrated that I couldn't come up with something sensible to blog about. I suppose nothing ever happens at this time of the day so I just have to make do with something mediocre and trivial. Like that chocolate coated, chocolate filled, chocolate cookie. Too bad we're out of fresh milk.
Ha. It's just a little over fifteen minutes. I can see that my effort at trying to control my human wants are improving. I hope that my effort at trying to think of something intellectually stimulating to write would somehow follow suite. In the meantime, I can feel the sweetness calling me...
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
hunger
It isn't unusual for me to wake up in the break of dawn with the sweltering heat covering me up like a warm suffocating blanket. I have always preferred cold weather hands down. Perhaps as a result of having to endure the tropical weather all my life, I love what is inherently something I can never have. Assuming of course, that I have no plans of searching for it. I am not one to settle for something simply because it is what is given to me. I make do with what I have but I do not let myself get caught up in comfort when there is a whole world out there to explore.
I turned the computer on and to my delight, the net is soaring in speeds unlike the last two weeks. Unfortunately, the mmorpg I am addicted to, refuses to patch. I'm not sure whether I'm going to jump for joy because of the faster internet speed or complain that it hasn't yet lived up to it's normal lighting quickness. I think I'll settle for the latter. I hope uninstalling would do the trick. I'm not exactly a techie so I'm going through trial and error here. Work with me people.
There is something else that gives me strength to struggle to get up at such an unholy hour when a normal person would just snore 'til noon - food. While everyone leaves the house to work on their purpose - work or school - I get left behind because my purpose refuses to make an appearance at a time when I need it badly. Waking up at half past twelve doesn't make breakfast all that appetizing, but at four in the morning, when it is just being whipped up magically in my mum's kitchen, the food tastes just right. Warm and inviting on my cold and hungry stomach. I could smell the delicious scent as I type and it only heightens the hunger as excitement rushes through my veins as if demanding that I stand and devour the contents of the pan immediately. You see, I am quite enthusiastic about breakfasts. I don't think anyone could match up with my longing for it after hours of idling in sleep without food.
The desire that is harbored for a significant length of time, without which that satisfies you, only makes the pursuit much more exciting that when you could actually hold it, smell it, when the tangibility of it overpowers your senses, it is as if you could no longer take that feeling of accomplishment. For a second or two, you actually feel alive. Perhaps, that sense of achievement is what we're all really after and hunger is simply the device that allows us to recognize our thirst for it. Our thirst for life.
I turned the computer on and to my delight, the net is soaring in speeds unlike the last two weeks. Unfortunately, the mmorpg I am addicted to, refuses to patch. I'm not sure whether I'm going to jump for joy because of the faster internet speed or complain that it hasn't yet lived up to it's normal lighting quickness. I think I'll settle for the latter. I hope uninstalling would do the trick. I'm not exactly a techie so I'm going through trial and error here. Work with me people.
There is something else that gives me strength to struggle to get up at such an unholy hour when a normal person would just snore 'til noon - food. While everyone leaves the house to work on their purpose - work or school - I get left behind because my purpose refuses to make an appearance at a time when I need it badly. Waking up at half past twelve doesn't make breakfast all that appetizing, but at four in the morning, when it is just being whipped up magically in my mum's kitchen, the food tastes just right. Warm and inviting on my cold and hungry stomach. I could smell the delicious scent as I type and it only heightens the hunger as excitement rushes through my veins as if demanding that I stand and devour the contents of the pan immediately. You see, I am quite enthusiastic about breakfasts. I don't think anyone could match up with my longing for it after hours of idling in sleep without food.
The desire that is harbored for a significant length of time, without which that satisfies you, only makes the pursuit much more exciting that when you could actually hold it, smell it, when the tangibility of it overpowers your senses, it is as if you could no longer take that feeling of accomplishment. For a second or two, you actually feel alive. Perhaps, that sense of achievement is what we're all really after and hunger is simply the device that allows us to recognize our thirst for it. Our thirst for life.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
success
Social networking has replaced good old hanging out. At least, that's how it looks like to me. No one ever says "Hey let's go get a cup of coffee!" anymore. I suppose some people find it comforting though. I know I do. It's just awkward when you decide to show up at some shindig (whoever says that anymore?) trying to keep the subject off of "what have you been up to these past few years?"
People tend to measure achievement by the amount of time you've spent doing something. A profession perhaps. No one ever measure success by how happy you are anymore. It's always about how much you earn on a monthly basis. Six-figures usually define it. When you're just happy? That's when people assume you have been bumming around all these years wasting your life away and the statement "I'm happy" doesn't cut it.
Well. I am happy. Six-figure or not.
People tend to measure achievement by the amount of time you've spent doing something. A profession perhaps. No one ever measure success by how happy you are anymore. It's always about how much you earn on a monthly basis. Six-figures usually define it. When you're just happy? That's when people assume you have been bumming around all these years wasting your life away and the statement "I'm happy" doesn't cut it.
Well. I am happy. Six-figure or not.
Monday, September 14, 2009
fair?
We all know the world isn't fair. But sometimes, when you see someone living your dreams, you just can't help but feel resentful. Because you know, deep inside your heart, if you were in their place, you would reign and be the best in that field. I suppose the world is fair for those who can afford it. You just have to accept the limitations of being financially challenged eh?
Sunday, September 13, 2009
thanks
Because yesterday was my birthday, I was not able to take a few minutes to even come up with something mediocre to post.
There was no birthday bash of the year, so you can cross that one out of the list of things I did yesterday. Instead, I visited the dentist. It wasn't all that pleasant having to endure the news that I needed surgery to take a couple of teeth out. The tools were a monstrosity to say the least. The thought that the dentist had to insert them inside of my very tiny, very aching mouth scared me to bits. Seriously, the apparatus she had on hand could fix a tire. I breathed a sigh of relief after she said, "Well, first we need an x-ray before we can schedule the surgery". I nearly jumped with joy. If it wasn't for the aching, throbbing feeling in the inside of my face, I probably would have.
On that note, I'm going to start off this belated birthday post and say thank you to the Big Guy who have always been generous to me:
* Thank you for another year of life. Despite the disappointments the last year brought me, I still have to say thank you. If it wasn't for those disappointments I probably would have never learned the art of patience.
* Thank you for giving me wonderful parents, amazing friends, and the most awesome boyfriend in the history of forever. They make me feel loved - not only on birthdays - but everyday of my life. And that is enough reason for living.
* Thank you for keeping them safe.
* Thank you for the food that never fails to make a scrumptious appearance in our dining table every day.
* Thank you for the basic necessities that you have showered upon me and despite the everydayness of these things and activities, I thank you for giving me the strength to continue doing them all.
* For the chores I usually detest, thank you. They make me a stronger person and they teach me the importance of motion.
* For being able to bathe, walk, run, skip, hop, touch, hold, carry without difficulty and hindrance, thank you.
* Thank you for the small house that never fails to exude a sense of homeyness and safety.
* Thank you for the warm bed that I sleep in.
* And finally, thank you for the gift of appreciation and recognition. If it wasn't for these things, I wouldn't be reminded of how you are the perfect provider for a soul in need. Thank you for never failing to give me the things that I need, and the things that I want. Thank you for everything.
What are you thankful for today?
There was no birthday bash of the year, so you can cross that one out of the list of things I did yesterday. Instead, I visited the dentist. It wasn't all that pleasant having to endure the news that I needed surgery to take a couple of teeth out. The tools were a monstrosity to say the least. The thought that the dentist had to insert them inside of my very tiny, very aching mouth scared me to bits. Seriously, the apparatus she had on hand could fix a tire. I breathed a sigh of relief after she said, "Well, first we need an x-ray before we can schedule the surgery". I nearly jumped with joy. If it wasn't for the aching, throbbing feeling in the inside of my face, I probably would have.
On that note, I'm going to start off this belated birthday post and say thank you to the Big Guy who have always been generous to me:
* Thank you for another year of life. Despite the disappointments the last year brought me, I still have to say thank you. If it wasn't for those disappointments I probably would have never learned the art of patience.
* Thank you for giving me wonderful parents, amazing friends, and the most awesome boyfriend in the history of forever. They make me feel loved - not only on birthdays - but everyday of my life. And that is enough reason for living.
* Thank you for keeping them safe.
* Thank you for the food that never fails to make a scrumptious appearance in our dining table every day.
* Thank you for the basic necessities that you have showered upon me and despite the everydayness of these things and activities, I thank you for giving me the strength to continue doing them all.
* For the chores I usually detest, thank you. They make me a stronger person and they teach me the importance of motion.
* For being able to bathe, walk, run, skip, hop, touch, hold, carry without difficulty and hindrance, thank you.
* Thank you for the small house that never fails to exude a sense of homeyness and safety.
* Thank you for the warm bed that I sleep in.
* And finally, thank you for the gift of appreciation and recognition. If it wasn't for these things, I wouldn't be reminded of how you are the perfect provider for a soul in need. Thank you for never failing to give me the things that I need, and the things that I want. Thank you for everything.
What are you thankful for today?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
pain
I am exhausting all of my mortal strength trying to force this one post out of my pain-filled brain.
I know it isn't nice to be all whiny about pain when there are so many people out there struggling through pain that is much deeper than I am currently enduring. It leaves a bitter taste in other people's mouth to hear (or in this case - read) someone whine about how it is difficult for them to hurdle pain when a greater percentage of the population is battling chronic illnesses that brings more than the very superficial stinging.
But this isn't stinging. It's like a jagged knife searing through my already swollen mouth, my very tired body, and my sleep-deprived brain. A few nights ago, I was drinking cold water and was taken aback at how much pain such activity could cause. My teeth had never been extra sensitive to heat or cold so this is strange ground to me. And then last night saw the dawn of this overwhelming sensation. I just kept tossing and turning and my bed was a big mess of sheets by morning.
It feels like very sharp pointed stones are shooting out of my gums instead of a very tiny decaying tooth. I've never experienced tooth decay before. Like I said, strange ground. I am just going to stop here. I need another dose of pain killers. And food.
Dang it.
I know it isn't nice to be all whiny about pain when there are so many people out there struggling through pain that is much deeper than I am currently enduring. It leaves a bitter taste in other people's mouth to hear (or in this case - read) someone whine about how it is difficult for them to hurdle pain when a greater percentage of the population is battling chronic illnesses that brings more than the very superficial stinging.
But this isn't stinging. It's like a jagged knife searing through my already swollen mouth, my very tired body, and my sleep-deprived brain. A few nights ago, I was drinking cold water and was taken aback at how much pain such activity could cause. My teeth had never been extra sensitive to heat or cold so this is strange ground to me. And then last night saw the dawn of this overwhelming sensation. I just kept tossing and turning and my bed was a big mess of sheets by morning.
It feels like very sharp pointed stones are shooting out of my gums instead of a very tiny decaying tooth. I've never experienced tooth decay before. Like I said, strange ground. I am just going to stop here. I need another dose of pain killers. And food.
Dang it.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
999
Everybody's excited about today. If you have just woken up from hibernation, or have lived in caves this past century, today marks the last day of the repetition of single-digit number dates. September 9, 2009. Of course you can count on the next century if you happen to suddenly develop amnesia and forgot about today. But I suppose that's a valid excuse. Aren't you glad our generation was lucky enough to witness these anomalies since the turn of the 21st? I know I am.
If it wasn't for one tiny thing, I would be ecstatic. As of this moment, I have been awake for 24 hours straight. And obviously, haven't had any sleep yet. I hate to think that I shall, somehow, miss today's happenings since in about a few hours, I am sure to be asleep.
At least I got to blog about it in the wee hours eh? Have a great ninth!
If it wasn't for one tiny thing, I would be ecstatic. As of this moment, I have been awake for 24 hours straight. And obviously, haven't had any sleep yet. I hate to think that I shall, somehow, miss today's happenings since in about a few hours, I am sure to be asleep.
At least I got to blog about it in the wee hours eh? Have a great ninth!
fame
I have thought long and hard about what I was going to write next. The literary drought is starting to get to me and I have no idea how long I'm going to last ranting about the very hot weather or publishing my gibberish. I have this sinking feeling that six months from now I am going to barf at my shallowness. Oh, such a very healthy self perspective, don't you think?
Let's cut to the chase, shall we?
I have been told - countless of times - about how, as a toddler, I had 'begged' my mother to take me to an audition for a kid's pageant only to back out when it was my turn at the stage. Even then I was exceptionally smart eh? I was never one for those kinds of exposure. Unlike the greater percentage of the world's female population, I have never harbored the desire to strut in front of strangers who were chosen - as if by the gods of Olympus - to pass judgment on how I would look in a bikini. Except that one time, but you really can't hold it against a four-year-old you know. I wasn't introduced to logic then. I wasn't one of those who ached to act in front of the camera either. Despite my undeniable talent for the art. Ahem.
I just find it extremely fascinating how people today would kill for a lifetime of fame. Seriously, I don't find the fish in a fishbowl life all that tempting. But that's just me. Certainly there are perks to the life of glitz and glamour. The designer clothes, the expensive freebies, the luxury cars, the monstrosity that is your house, everything seems to be exceptionally sparkly and shiny in the other side of the fence.
But I don't think we have been missing anything at all. For one, the freedom that comes with being a complete stranger is not a downside if you really think about it. Getting your groceries in peace without those annoying cameras in your face, hanging out with your real friends, barbecuing in your front yard with your neighbors and waking up, hair messy, clothes crumpled from sleep, knowing that you don't have to look pretty to uphold your image. You don't have to think about how people would react to your choice of clothing because normalcy dictates that your comfort is your priority.
I really don't think I am an authority when it comes to the life of the rich and famous, because for one, I am not a member of the high society. I am not publishing a post that aims to judge their life choices and throwing a tantrum about how dare they choose to be famous. I am simply writing about how lucky I feel because I am a normal person living a normal life, away from the glare of the public eye. I am just writing about how it feels like to be in this side of the fence. Counting my blessings so to speak. Taking comfort in the fact that, I can take a walk in peace. Knowing that when I decide to walk home, I am going home to a wonderful family who loves me not because of how much I am worth, but because of who I am. And the knowledge that, no matter how unruly my hair gets or how ugly my clothes are, ze boyfriend will always look at me as if I am the most perfect creature to have ever existed.
I can truly say that I have never felt deprived in the sparkly and shiny department :)
Let's cut to the chase, shall we?
I have been told - countless of times - about how, as a toddler, I had 'begged' my mother to take me to an audition for a kid's pageant only to back out when it was my turn at the stage. Even then I was exceptionally smart eh? I was never one for those kinds of exposure. Unlike the greater percentage of the world's female population, I have never harbored the desire to strut in front of strangers who were chosen - as if by the gods of Olympus - to pass judgment on how I would look in a bikini. Except that one time, but you really can't hold it against a four-year-old you know. I wasn't introduced to logic then. I wasn't one of those who ached to act in front of the camera either. Despite my undeniable talent for the art. Ahem.
I just find it extremely fascinating how people today would kill for a lifetime of fame. Seriously, I don't find the fish in a fishbowl life all that tempting. But that's just me. Certainly there are perks to the life of glitz and glamour. The designer clothes, the expensive freebies, the luxury cars, the monstrosity that is your house, everything seems to be exceptionally sparkly and shiny in the other side of the fence.
But I don't think we have been missing anything at all. For one, the freedom that comes with being a complete stranger is not a downside if you really think about it. Getting your groceries in peace without those annoying cameras in your face, hanging out with your real friends, barbecuing in your front yard with your neighbors and waking up, hair messy, clothes crumpled from sleep, knowing that you don't have to look pretty to uphold your image. You don't have to think about how people would react to your choice of clothing because normalcy dictates that your comfort is your priority.
I really don't think I am an authority when it comes to the life of the rich and famous, because for one, I am not a member of the high society. I am not publishing a post that aims to judge their life choices and throwing a tantrum about how dare they choose to be famous. I am simply writing about how lucky I feel because I am a normal person living a normal life, away from the glare of the public eye. I am just writing about how it feels like to be in this side of the fence. Counting my blessings so to speak. Taking comfort in the fact that, I can take a walk in peace. Knowing that when I decide to walk home, I am going home to a wonderful family who loves me not because of how much I am worth, but because of who I am. And the knowledge that, no matter how unruly my hair gets or how ugly my clothes are, ze boyfriend will always look at me as if I am the most perfect creature to have ever existed.
I can truly say that I have never felt deprived in the sparkly and shiny department :)
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
book
It has been a long time.
I have not felt you in my hands, or caught your warm scent for years - at least, that's how it seems to me. I have not traveled through time or lived in a different century, have not met new people either. My heart is filled with such desire that I could feel the pain coursing through my veins with every beat. I long to feel you in my hands. I long to have my eyes travel along your spine and open you with much enthusiasm. I am trying my very best to live without a glimpse of you, but somehow, life doesn't feel right. Days are long and nights are exceptionally dull without you. I am trying to fill this void and writing seems to be the most logical outlet, yet, I only feel even more detached from you and every word is a painful reminder of your absence. Such sorrow is unbearable.
I really would not mind if you happen to fall from the sky, old and dog-eared, tattered pages and broken spine. I would not mind if you're new and well bound, pages white and reeking with newness either. I really don't care! All I want is to immerse myself in an intellectually stimulating you.
I haven't read a good one in ages.
I have not felt you in my hands, or caught your warm scent for years - at least, that's how it seems to me. I have not traveled through time or lived in a different century, have not met new people either. My heart is filled with such desire that I could feel the pain coursing through my veins with every beat. I long to feel you in my hands. I long to have my eyes travel along your spine and open you with much enthusiasm. I am trying my very best to live without a glimpse of you, but somehow, life doesn't feel right. Days are long and nights are exceptionally dull without you. I am trying to fill this void and writing seems to be the most logical outlet, yet, I only feel even more detached from you and every word is a painful reminder of your absence. Such sorrow is unbearable.
I really would not mind if you happen to fall from the sky, old and dog-eared, tattered pages and broken spine. I would not mind if you're new and well bound, pages white and reeking with newness either. I really don't care! All I want is to immerse myself in an intellectually stimulating you.
I haven't read a good one in ages.
Monday, September 7, 2009
walk
If only it was tangible.
It is a learned response I suppose. Or a state of mind if you must. Something we find ourselves in because we have learned that nothing good comes out of rushing things, doing it haphazardly or racing to beat the deadline. A shallow outcome would suffice - that's the excuse. Something to get you through just this once.
More often than not, we find ourselves unprepared to meet the tasks at hand because we feel that we don't have the necessary experiences. That our intellectual faculties cannot handle the demands, that emotionally, we aren't ready to face this. To face it. Now. We tend to rush everything in the hopes that when we get to where we want to get to, it will be smooth sailing. We don't, or rather, never take into account our readiness at the moment, if we are prepared or at the very least, expectant of the things we are to face. And then we face them. Only to realize that, if we had taken the time to just wait, we would probably be more than ready and maybe even willing to take on what we must.
This art is slowly dying. Stop and smell the roses, why don't you?
It is a learned response I suppose. Or a state of mind if you must. Something we find ourselves in because we have learned that nothing good comes out of rushing things, doing it haphazardly or racing to beat the deadline. A shallow outcome would suffice - that's the excuse. Something to get you through just this once.
More often than not, we find ourselves unprepared to meet the tasks at hand because we feel that we don't have the necessary experiences. That our intellectual faculties cannot handle the demands, that emotionally, we aren't ready to face this. To face it. Now. We tend to rush everything in the hopes that when we get to where we want to get to, it will be smooth sailing. We don't, or rather, never take into account our readiness at the moment, if we are prepared or at the very least, expectant of the things we are to face. And then we face them. Only to realize that, if we had taken the time to just wait, we would probably be more than ready and maybe even willing to take on what we must.
This art is slowly dying. Stop and smell the roses, why don't you?
Sunday, September 6, 2009
yellow
Because I live somewhere around the vicinity of the earth's equator, it isn't unusual to experience this kind of sickening heat. The kind that makes you see mirages on the sidewalk, or on the hood of your car. A cross between humidity and actual burning kind of heat. Like flames from a bonfire only ten times as huge and ten times hotter. Showering in the wee hours of the morning doesn't help - as much as we'd like to think it does, it really doesn't. You end up sweating two hours after you bathe that you'd feel extremely sticky and that, my friends, would only make you want to take a shower again. Not a very intelligent idea if you live in 2009 where water conservation is a very important international issue. Sometimes, I get all confused between global warming and the country's actual weather. Feels the same to me.
After two hours of pretending that the heat doesn't bother me, I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed myself a cold glass of mango juice. I have never been this wrong in my entire life. The jug was cold. Not the mango juice. I swallowed it with much enthusiasm, too fast, too soon. The sweetness burned my already very dry throat.
Lesson learned.
After two hours of pretending that the heat doesn't bother me, I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed myself a cold glass of mango juice. I have never been this wrong in my entire life. The jug was cold. Not the mango juice. I swallowed it with much enthusiasm, too fast, too soon. The sweetness burned my already very dry throat.
Lesson learned.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
leaves
I woke up late, beads of sweat dripping from my forehead. My back soaked and my bed a great, big, tangled mess. I have never felt this tired before. It felt as though I have been running a marathon instead of getting a good night's sleep. I tried shifting positions to no avail. The dream did not help relieve me of exhaustion either. I think I need to get into the habit of turning up early - which would be quite a feat for a night owl like me. I struggled to get up despite my body's call for a few more hours of sleep. It took all of my strength to get up, walk to the kitchen, open the fridge and gulp a generous amount of cold water. After hours and hours of struggling with the warm air, the cold water running down my throat felt good.
I settled by the door where the wind was sure to touch my face and play with my hair. It did not disappoint. It was pleasant. Having to sit here, nature fanning your warm face was the highlight of my suffocating morning. The tv - a comfortable blur of sound behind me, the music of my fingers on the keyboard, and the wind keeping me nice and calm - that doesn't happen on regular mornings when I am too busy to even notice anything. I am glad that today, I did. It was an inviting variety to the dull, routine morning I always have.
As I concentrate on the wind on my face, I didn't expect to notice such beauty in front of me. The body was slim and tall. Bumps everywhere and hands shooting out of it, catching the wind - something that I could not do. I was struck with awe. I expected it to cover me in the dark shadow. Instead, it was like a very big prism, reflecting the light, throwing it around and playing with the rays of the sun. The wind would constantly blow in our direction and it would bend in surrender to its force. But it was never knocked down powerless. It was challenging the breeze but there's nothing that the wind could do. Its slim body seemed vulnerable - breakable even. I never knew that such strength could be locked up inside something that looked that fragile.
But that was not what made me look up. It was its green glory that looked a tad brighter when the sun would shower it with its rays. When a cloud would completely cover the magnificent ball of light, it looked opaque - certainly, it was. But it looked surprisingly transparent when nothing was standing in the way of the sun and those beauties.
It was screaming in possibly every shade of green. Not my favorite color, but, surprisingly pleasant to my tired eyes. If I was talented enough, I would have immortalized this morning in a photograph. Unfortunately, I was not gifted with a photographer's insight - something I seriously envy in others. All I can do is write it for you.
I hope my words are enough.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
first
One doesn't need a purpose to write. One only has to recognize that the purpose is writing. I recognize the need, the desire, the enthusiasm within that is bursting at the seams begging my fingers to keep typing and my mind to keep thinking. I am not about to get myself into an obligation of writing for an audience. Rather, I am finally taking responsibility of teaching myself to write with discipline. To satiate this thirst for creating something that I might, someday, look back on and read. Without expectations or lists I need to keep up with, I shall write. Here's to hoping that I shall be able to maintain this fervor...
Cheers.
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