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.

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.

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.

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...

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.