dove il mio cuore è

Missing Cardinal Sin

2011-09-08T12:59:00.000+08:00

By Archbishop Socrates B. Villegas
August 31, 2011

Do you still care to remember Jaime Cardinal Sin? He passed away only six years ago. How time flies! How fast we forget! He would have been eighty three years old today. I wonder if people still remember. As for me, how can I forget? I will always remember and I still miss him.

Cardinal Sin had something to say about almost everything happening to the Church and Philippine society. He did not have to go to Luneta to be heard. Even if he whispered to the wall, society somehow caught his opinion, media was swift to publish and gossipers were quick to exaggerate.

I lived with him as his secretary for eighteen years. I lived with him longer than I lived with my own parents. He taught me. He guided me. He allowed me to care for him. I knew he cared for me as much as he cared for the millions who belonged to his flock. He knew the meaning of living a dangerous life. He knew the meaning of being ready to die to protect his beloved.

What would Cardinal Sin tell us about what is going on the country now? What would Cardinal Sin do about the situation of the Church and government now? Only Cardinal Sin can answer for Cardinal Sin and only Cardinal Sin can answer like Cardinal Sin.

As I remember him and as I knew him, I offer these conjectures of a nostalgic former secretary.

I close my eyes and imagine him in the car on our way to an engagement. I imagine him say: The real battle about the reproductive health bill is not with the legislature where the debates are ongoing and where the voting will be done. The real person to wrestle with is not the President who has sadly called the bill a priority bill. The real battle is in the minds and hearts of our youth. The youth are being misled by wrong teachings. The youth are like parched dry sponge. In their thirst, they absorb all and retain them regardless of the purity of source. I pity our youth. The Church cannot impose its right and authority in this highly pluralistic society. It must be willing to join the arena of public opinion, use new methods and approaches and even jejemon vocabulary to make the message of God convincing. It is not the duty of churchmen to lobby in government offices. Our duty is to teach Christ and only Christ. Our duty is to form people’s minds and prick consciences and let those formed consciences speak up in the plaza of public opinion. This is lay empowerment. This is youth empowerment. This is the church of the people not the church of bishops.

There is a problem deeper than the anti life and anti family bills in the legislature. The blasphemous art exhibits point to a deeper and more alarming issue. The irreverent calumny thrown at religious leaders are symptoms of deeper problems. It is due to the wrong understanding of freedom and the misplaced primacy that is laid on conscience.

After EDSA 1986, we all discovered a fresh breeze of freedom in the air. Lost liberties were restored and the freedom to express was held in high esteem. Freedom is indeed a noble human right and a sublime aspiration but it not unlimited. Freedom since EDSA 1986 has been abused, terribly abused. Freedom is not absolute. The limit of freedom is love. The exercise of freedom must make us more loving. If the use of freedom violates the freedom of another, it is licentiousness; it fails to love. That freedom is lewd and obscene.

There is no absolute freedom. Freedom has limits. Its limit is truth. When freedom violates or assails truth, it can no longer be called freedom. It is debauchery and brute arrogance.

Freedom must respect the law. Freedom without respect for law is anarchy. Laws do not restrict freedom. Laws help us to live in order. When life is orderly, freedom is also safeguarded.

Our countrymen who declare themselves Catholics because they attend Catholic liturgies but disregard the commandments of God and the precepts of the Church are gravely in error. To be a Catholic, it is not enough to pray the Catholic prayers. To say you are a Catholic, you must also live as a Catholic. It is not enough to act according to conscience. Before listening to that conscience, we must first insure that the conscience is sensitive to the laws of God. Conscience is not the ultimate tribunal. The Truth that God has taught us is the highest tribunal. That Truth is in the bible. That Truth is handed to us in the teachings of the Church.

How I miss Cardinal Sin! He taught me to cherish freedom but he also warned me not to raise it to a value more than it deserves. Freedom is one of the great gifts of God to men but the greatest gift is love. Use your freedom to be more loving because “the greatest is love”. Aim for the greatest. Freedom must recognize unchanging truths. Freedom must not enchain truth. Truth is the mother of freedom and it is the height of ingratitude to enslave your mother, isn’t it?

He taught me: Follow your conscience when it speaks but make sure the ears of that conscience are ever attuned to God. When a deaf conscience speaks, ignore that voice. That is the voice of error. Knowing what is right and what is wrong is not inborn. Conscience must be formed and molded unto Christ. The duty of conscience is to listen to its God so that it may be credible when it speaks.

The legacy of Cardinal Sin is freedom. Let us understand freedom in depth. The love of Cardinal Sin was the youth and children. He taught them well. I will honor him by loving those he loved and living as he lived and believing in what he stood for.

Forgetting

2011-01-19T17:09:00.002+08:00

It's been nearly a year.

It isn't funny how I find myself here. Now. After nearly a year. A year!

It makes me sad thinking how much I've lost and how far I've gone and how nothing's been written. Am I no longer a writer?

It's a valid question. I have barely written anything of myself and my ideas, my adventures and mishaps. Whatever I've written is, essentially, nothing. Air. Spit. Sand. Ghost. And, I have had so much to write about and wanted so much to write about them. But when it came down to it, to words and coherence and logic, all energies went flying out the window and I died. Each and every time I died. I was content to be ghost, to be sand and spit and air. I flew this way and that and I had a crazy fun time and I was nothing.

It's fun being nothing. Having been spent and lost and forgotten. Thriving in others. Fungus. Shallow. Flighty. And sad.

I guess, at the end of the day, I still want to come home even if I've forgotten how.

Chapter 11

2010-01-25T21:38:00.002+08:00

"Time goes on, and your life is still there, and you have to live it. After a while you remember the good things more often than the bad. Then, gradually, the empty silent parts of you fill up with the sounds of talking and laughter again, and the jagged edges of sadness are softened by memories.

Nothing will be the same, ever...But there's a whole world waiting, still, and there are good things in it.

It was September, and time to leave the little house that had begun to seem like home...

It is hard to give up the being together with someone...

Somewhere, for (Tatay), I thought suddenly, it would be summer still, summer always."

-Lois Lowry, A Summer To Die

2010 Resolutions

2010-01-23T19:58:00.002+08:00

Twenty three days is not too late to come up with resolutions for the new year.

I have always been wary of resolutions, knowing that they have every risk of never being met, but I have always found them quite irresistable still. And so, every year, I always come up with a list. Sometimes lengthy, sometimes brief, but always seemingly unattainable.

This year, has proven to be no different. After twenty-three days of dragging my feet, here is my list.

1. I am resolved not to buy another pair of earrings for the entire year. Those silly shiny dangly things have been my ruin, and I now have a collection to rival Imelda Marcos's shoe closet.

2. I am resolved to build up my savings anew, which through no fault of its own, has grown steadily leaner the past year.

3. I am resolved to write a children's storybook, as promised to my wide-eyed, simple-minded, all-believing students. It is never a good idea to make promises to children. No matter how silly or impossible, they will believe it to be true and demand that you deliver.

4. I am resolved to learn something new. What it is, I have yet to decide...

5. I am resolved to travel out of my comfort zone...which is not really a very good resolution seeing how unspecific it is, but I commit to it anyway.

It's not much, but a short list does not make it any easier than a long-winded one. In the end, it doesn't really matter how many one comes up with. Resolutions were never meant to be easy. They were meant to produce change, and change never goes over easy.

The question now is whether these resolutions would ever see themselves met. The challenge always lies in deciding if following them is better than leaving them for something else; something more apt for a situation you did not foresee, therefore making your resolutions exponentially more difficult to achieve, if not impossible altogether.

A Summer To Die: An Open Letter to Lois Lowry

2010-01-15T08:21:00.001+08:00

Dear Ms. Lowry,

You don't know me. I am a third-grade Language Arts teacher from halfway around the world. I am a fan of yours, though I’ve only read four of your books: The Giver, Gooney Bird and the Room Mother, Gathering Blue, and most recently (just last night, actually) A Summer To Die.

Allow me to digress a bit and provide you with a short background of myself before I get to why I am writing to you now.

A number of tragedies hit me and my family last year, my dad passing away and floods inundating our home being the most heart-wrenching ones. I lost all my books in that flood. My students, with whom I shared my survival story, since then have been sharing their books for me to read. One has lent me your Gathering Blue and A Summer To Die. And I loved, love, both dearly. A Summer To Die especially. It wasn’t until I as in the middle of reading it that I realized it reminded me of my father.

My father was my best friend. I can’t get to the details of our relationship here because it would simply take up too much time and space, but it was a lot like Meg’s relationship with Will Banks combined with her relationship to Molly. He was also sick. He was diagnosed with diabetes in his forties and lived with it for nearly thirty years. He would be seventy-three now, if he lived.

The past couple of years, my dad went in and out of hospitals as his organs started bailing out on him, which was a consequence of his having diabetes. He started dialysis last 2008, which terrified him greatly, then had his worst attack last April. He spent nearly a week in the ICU while we slept on the cold, hard floor of the hospital waiting area. When he recovered, he gave us firm orders not to put him through that again. It must have been a million times more excruciating for him that for us who were just stuck watching helplessly, agonizingly. We knew that the end would come soon.

It did only a month after.

I wasn’t even there when he was rushed to a small hospital nearby (no big, ultra hi-tech hospitals for him anymore), which I didn’t really dwell on at that time. It didn’t really bother me at all because there were too many other things to think about then. Now, I realize it must’ve been God’s way of working things out. See, weeks before that my mother told me she couldn’t just stand by and follow my dad’s wish of not getting the best medical treatment there was to save whatever frail life was left in him. My mother said that if my dad wanted to be left in peace, she would have to stay out of the hospital. But in the end, she didn’t. Which was how it should be. Just the two of them. My mom stayed by my dad’s side ‘til the end.

My dad’s passing was a cheerful event for me, or so it seemed at that time. He was such a cheerful soul that literally moments after his death, I was left laughing with unexplained joy.
I did not grieve, for a long time. When I finally started to four months later in September, a super typhoon came and dumped the heaviest rainfall our country’s seen in decades. The ensuing floods swept away everything: our home, our car, all our belongings, our memories, everything. It was like a Divine Hand telling us to move on, don’t waste time holding on and grieving over a happy soul.

Now, we’ve all started over. We’ve left behind our old house with all the memories of my dad. Of course, we haven’t forgotten still. I just remember the happy times.

Reading your book, it touched my heart. Though starkly different in many ways, our stories have eerily similar circumstances, including the important fact that my dad died in May (which is summer in our country) and that we left our home, too (or rather, the flood drove us away), one September day like the Chalmers. I also felt a strong connection with Meg. Our attitudes and behavior are remarkably the same (yes, even at my present age) and interests, too. I was a good student with an eye for art. And I have always felt somewhat unpretty and slightly out of place wherever I go.

Ms. Lowry, of your four books that I read, A Summer To Die is not my favorite but it has struck me the deepest and will not be easy to forget. I will probably never read it again, but such are great books, I think, that are difficult to read (for one reason or another) and must only ever be read once. I wanted to write to you to share this all with you, though I’m not entirely sure now why. If it offers any enlightenment or consolation, another great book I’ve read but which I cannot read again is Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude. Have you read it? I read it a long time ago. The main character, Jose Arcadio Buendia, reminds me very much of my father.

Joy!

2010-01-01T18:27:00.004+08:00

Because I am HAPPY. And this song makes me HAPPY. It makes me want to JUMP!
This video is so HAPPY. It makes me HAPPY. I am HAPPY. Welcome 2010!

12.29.2009

2009-12-29T09:38:00.003+08:00

Where is my heart? Where has it gone?

I had gone and lost my heart. It slowly dried up til nothing was left but ashes, and the wind went and blew it all away.

The past few months have been hard. So many things happened after my father's passing. I fell in love, and out of love, worked through an epidemic, survived a flood, left home and almost every trace of my 27 year long mortality behind. Harder, still, that I had to endure it all without time enough to even blink. And so I didn't.

I stared unblinkingly, like seeing it all through someone else's eyes, I didn't really have any real idea of what was happening. It was much like a bad drama on t.v. where the lead just gets slammed with one tragedy after another. It all seemed so unreal.

I broke my heart. And before I could glue myself back up, it broke again. And again. And again. I can't recognize it anymore.

Where is my heart?

The holidays have proven much more difficult this year. It felt like a newspaper. Dry, gray, and flat.

Where is my heart?

The year nears its close. Thank God for that. 2009 has been the most heart-wrenching year I've ever lived through. Though it wasn't without its good, and such good there was like I've never seen, but so was the bad...the universe can't help itself.

Where is my heart?

I never thought I was so strong. Am I? I lost my heart in all this. I could not hold on long enough.

Where is my heart?

...There also will your treasure be.

2009-10-11T19:03:00.004+08:00

Mark 10:17-30
17 And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, "Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 18 And Jesus said to him, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. 19 You know the commandments: `Do not kill, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.'" 20 And he said to him, "Teacher, all these I have observed from my youth." 21 And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said to him, "You lack one thing; go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me." 22 At that saying his countenance fell, and he went away sorrowful; for he had great possessions. 23 And Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, "How hard it will be for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God!" 24 And the disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said to them again, "Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! 25 It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." 26 And they were exceedingly astonished, and said to him, "Then who can be saved?" 27 Jesus looked at them and said, "With men it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God." 28 Peter began to say to him, "Lo, we have left everything and followed you." 29 Jesus said, "Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, 30 who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life.

What gives hope and satisfaction to our desire for happiness and security? A young man who had the best the world could offer – wealth and security – came to Jesus because he lacked one thing. He wanted the kind of lasting peace and happiness which money could not buy him. The answer he got, however, was not what he was looking for. He protested that he kept all the commandments; but Jesus spoke to the trouble in his heart. One thing kept him from giving himself whole-heartedly to God. While he lacked nothing in material goods, he was nonetheless possessive of what he had. He placed his hope and security in what he possessed. So when Jesus challenged him to make God his one true possession and treasure, he became dismayed. Why did he go away from Jesus with sadness rather than with joy? His treasure and his hope for happiness were misplaced. Jesus challenged the young man because his heart was possessive. He was afraid to give to others for fear that he would lose what he had gained. He sought happiness and security in what he possessed rather than in who he could love and serve and give himself in undivided devotion.

Why does Jesus call his disciples to "sell all" for the treasure of his kingdom? Treasure has a special connection to the heart, the place of desire and longing, the place of will and focus. The thing we most set our heart on is our highest treasure. The Lord himself is the greatest treasure we can have. Giving up everything else to have the Lord as our treasure is not sorrowful, but the greatest joy. [See Jesus' parable about the treasure hidden in a field in Matthew 13:44.] Selling all that we have could mean many different things – letting go of attachments, friendships, influences, jobs, entertainments, styles of life – really anything that might stand in the way of our loving God first and foremost in our lives and giving him the best we can with our time, resources, gifts, and service.

Those who are generous towards God and towards their neighbor find that they cannot outgive God in his generosity towards us. God blesses us with the priceless treasures of his kingdom – freedom from fear and the griping power of sin, selfishness and pride which block his love and grace in our lives; freedom from loneliness, isolation and rejection which keep his children from living together in love, peace, and unity; and freedom from hopelessness, despair, and disillusionment which blind our vision of God's power to heal every hurt, bind every wound, and remove every blemish which mar the image of God within us. God offers us treasure which money cannot buy. He alone can truly satisfy the deepest longing and desires of our heart. Are you willing to part with anything that might keep you from seeking true joy with Jesus?

Why does Jesus issue such a strong warning to the rich (as well as to the rest of us who desire to be rich)? Was he really against wealth? We know that Jesus was not opposed to wealth per se, nor was he opposed to the wealthy. He had many friends who were well-to-do, including some notorious tax collectors! One even became an apostle! Jesus' warning reiterated the teaching of the Old Testament wisdom: Better is a poor man who walks in his integrity than a rich man who is perverse in his ways (Proverbs 28:6; see also Psalm 37:16). Do not wear yourself out to get rich; be wise enough to desist (Proverbs 23:4). Jesus seems to say that it is nearly impossible for the rich to live as citizens of God's kingdom. The camel was regarded as the largest animal in Palestine. The "eye of the needle" could be interpreted quite literally or it could figuratively describe the narow and low gate of the city walls which was used by travellers when the larger public gate was locked after dark. A normal sized man had to "lower" himself to enter that gate. A camel would literally have to knell and crawl through it. Why is Jesus so cautious about wealth? Wealth can make us falsely independent. The church at Laodicea was warned about their attitude towards wealth and a false sense of security: "For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing" (Revelations 3:17). Wealth can also lead us into hurtful desires and selfishness (see 1 Timothy 6:9-10). Look at the lesson Jesus gave about the rich man and his sons who refused to aid the poor man Lazarus (see Luke 16:19ff). They also neglected to serve God. The scriptures give us a paradox: we lose what we keep and we gain what we give away. Generosity will be amply repaid, both in this life and in eternity (Proverbs 3:9-10, Luke 6:38). Jesus offers us an incomparable treasure which no money can buy and no thief can steal. The thing we most set our heart on is our highest treasure. Material wealth will shackle us to this earth unless we guard our hearts and set our treasure on God and his everlasting kingdom. Where is your treasure?

"Lord Jesus, you have captured our hearts and opened to us the treasures of heaven. May you always be my treasure and delight and may nothing else keep me from giving you my all."

(c) 2009 Don Schwager
http://www.rc.net/wcc/readings/oct11.htm

Where the heart is...

2009-10-02T13:52:00.005+08:00

What can I say to stop the pain? What words are there to ease the sadness?

I have lost all that I had.
I always thought I had little more than nothing.
Then, I lost everything.
And around me,
everywhere,
people have lost more.

I have looked to the faraway place of my dreams, and now I weep for home.

Detours

2009-09-21T08:15:00.002+08:00

It has become increasingly difficult for me saving money for my eventual date with destiny. And even with religious tips in my jar, it'd take me at least 4 years to get the money that I need to fly. What more with debts to pay, my new addiction to online vintage shopping, annual interest and the ever unpredictable inflation. I'm starting to have serious doubts I could ever get to il mio cuore.

I used to be able to save up quite easily for whatever I wanted, whether it was a vacation, the holidays, a new cellphone, a piece of furniture, or some new family emergency. Though it must be said that I have never been able to save a whole lot because something always came up. And logic states that money saved is money spent so, "Thar she goes!" My savings go under and I am left staring like Ahab wondering if it was all just some phantasm disturbing my consciousness.

Given this increasingly apparent failure of mine to currently jumpstart my fundraising for my eventual trip to Italia, I had to find a creative solution so as not to completely sound pathetic and unfaithful to the cause. I have resolved to prepare myself mentally instead, educating myself on common Italian phrases I would need to survive in the streets of Italia. I am also planning to read up on my Italian history, food, and the local culture of the places I wish to visit -- starting with Toscana.

That being said, I am hoping I can finally get rid of the guilt that has been eating me up as I slowly use up my savings.

I know, I know. It doesn't really solve my problem. It's just...

Right now, I feel the need to treat myself to something. Something that's immediately tangible. I need something to hold on to. I need my happiness to be apparent right now. Even if it is in something quite material and trivial and vain. I just need something to get me by.

Parlare l'Italiano

2009-09-19T13:06:00.000+08:00

Hello! - Ciao!
Good morning! - Buon giorno!
Good afternoon! - Buono pomeriggio!
Good evening! - Buona sera!
Good night! - Buona notte!
How are you? - Come lei è?
My name is (your name). - Mi chiamo (your name).
What is your name? - Che è il suo nome?
Which way is Rome? - Quale maniera è Roma?
Thank you! - Ringraziarla!
You are welcome! - Lei è benvenuto!
Goodbye! - Arrivederci!

How to Speak Italian

2009-09-13T17:26:00.004+08:00

Italian Pronunciation Tips

The first step to learning how to speak Italian is knowing how to pronounce the words. Once you know how to pronounce the vowels and certain consonants, you can say any word.
Indo-European Languages has a list of how to pronounce vowels and consonants here.
Figure 1: Indo-European Languages Italian Pronunciation Guid
About.com includes practice words in its pages on how to pronounce Italian Vowels, Consonants, Double Consonants, and also General Word Pronunciation.
The "r" in words is always trilled.
Italians stress the second to last syllable in words, even if the word only has two syllables. So "Signore" would be pronounced "Seen-YORE-ay", and "Scusi" would be pronounced "SKOO-see".
For a fun, 10 minute video on pronunciation, go here.

Tutte le strade conducono a Roma

2009-09-11T21:26:00.006+08:00

One fine day, I'll fly away. Don't you know that Rome wasn't built in a day.

The Art of Mendicancy

2009-09-09T15:58:00.002+08:00

It is only three more days until I can sufficiently support my simple lifestyle of eat-sleep-breathing. It's surprising how far I've come whilst completely staying clear of spending. It is during these times of complete and utter stupidity-thus-resulting-to-pitiful-disgrace that one appreciates the simple things in life many usually ignore and take for granted.

Over the past few days, I have learned to appreciate the substantial nutritional value of soda crackers and the crisp smooth feel of crystal clear water on an empty stomach. They provide one with the necessary energy boost just when the heavy curtain of sleepy hypoglycemia threatens to overcome you in the middle of processing the tallest pile of papers this side of the world has seen. Just take note not to overindulge in all that crystal cleariness as it could very well bring about a searing ulcer that would burn a very unpleasant hole in your vain stomach.

Leftovers may also very well turn out to be one's greatest ally in this Darwinian fight. Raiding the fridge doesn't seem all that gross anymore once your stomach has emitted its most ornery rumble that the thickest sweater and arms crisscrossed twenty times can no longer muffle. It's also good to note with gratitude that one's stomach does not bear any capacity for visual perception, thus saving it from possible revulsion towards the kind of former edibles one can find seeking shelter in the cold, dark recesses of the refrigerator.

And of course, the human factor is perhaps the greatest contributor to one's chances in surviving the next few days.

Humans are a wasteful animal. A wise and patient hunter need only to sit quietly and wait for the veritable feast dropping from a human walking by and going along its own life, heedless of others. A slice of cake, a cookie, half a sandwich, and candies are just some of the treats one can snag from humans always buying too much, in too large a quantity, or humans on perpetually ineffective diets. Manifesting a worried brow, a wide-eyed melancholic stare, or the softest sigh might even score one a bonus of a completely unopened treat.

In the end, insurmountable as it may seem getting through the next three days in utter privation, we are all well equipped to fend for ourselves and suffer the consequences of our extravagant vanity.

Tough Choices

2009-09-07T11:08:00.003+08:00

...And so I have this 380 bucks credit from when I returned a purchase that didn't fit me.

A new collection's being released tonight, 50 pieces this time...

What else could I do with my credit?

...It'd be a waste if I just leave it for naught...And what of my promise not to spend?

Although, technically, it's money already spent...

Does that answer my question???

I guess I don't really have a choice do I? The money IS spent. I just have to go and make sure it is...spent.

A Survivor's Guide to Living the Life Not to Live

2009-09-06T20:40:00.005+08:00

Coming out of a crippling online speed shopping experience nearly a week ago, it's been nerve-wracking trying to live off of my empty wallet and make it to my next salary. Not only did I have virtually nothing, I thought it would be the perfect time to step out of my diet and just abuse my appetite.

It wasn't that I didn't have the money to spend. It's that I didn't have a lot. I could still afford to go out and order that Big Mac with large fries, but how can I expect to get myself to Italia with all this heedless and needless spending going on?

I realize it's a completely bizarre case to argue after spending more than I was worth on funky vintage (which in some countries, by the way, is referred to as used) clothing about five minutes after receiving my salary. But what was a girl to do? Faced with the choice between looking good and surviving the rest of my life, there was only one choice to make. Every girl wants to look good, even on her death bed.

So where did Italia come in, in the midst of all this confusion between fashion and living? I'm ashamed to say it flew out of my mind at the first sight of a lovely pink blouse and a funky leather jacket. Then it came walloping back into my head once I added up all my purchases that I had to let out a deep inward groan that only the darkest, dankest bowels of the earth could hear. Then, having to wake up the next morning and realizing there were fifteen more days before I saw the light of my next salary, it was almost too much to bear.

Which is why I simply have to praise the Lord for family! Where would I be without them?

Thank God I was born last and that my elder siblings get paid more than me thus earning them the inalienable right to sport the bill. And I thank God that He created mothers so that they can take pity on their kids who need new pretty shoes that go well with their fabulous new clothes bought so imprudently within a span of ten minutes online, which means that there wasn't even opportunity to make sure that the fashionable purchases fit.

Mothers, being the amazing creatures God made them to be, will not only clothe your bare feet but also feed you and give you the money to spend to go and feed yourself too.

Oh God, what did I do to deserve this?

In any case, I am resolved to survive the remaining eight days without spending any more on food. Without spending period. (Forgive the redundance.) And I shall return any remaining amount left to me from the money bestowed upon me after subtle innuendos and blatant begging.

I shall pull the reins and take control. I'm gonna be a man, damn it! And I'm going to Italy. Someday.

Setback 1.0

2009-09-01T11:59:00.003+08:00

My friend manages an online business selling funky previously owned clothes. I have drooled over them for the past eight collections. Been referring friends to her site. Been an altogether unofficial PR person for her business. I finally couldn't resist staying on the sidelines so I jumped in with both feet into neck-deep waters, without taking the slightest crash course on swimming -- let alone swimming with sharks.

And so the expected happened.

I spent whatever meager budget I had and then some. Now, I even have to tap into my virtually nonexistent Italia budget.

Tsk, tsk. I was weak.

Let it never happen again. At least not to my Italia savings.

dove il mio cuore è

2009-08-31T19:23:00.003+08:00

Consider it a trail of bread crumbs. Because that's quite honestly how it looks right about now. Now that I start.

7, 282 bucks is exactly what it reads in my personal savings account. Plus another 1,563 left in my salary which is unlikely to survive the rest of this pay period's expenditures. This is all that I have to work on to get to the 260,000++ that I need to get to where my heart is.

Slowly but surely is what I told myself. My mind is set. My feet shall fly, walk, run, skip to the end of the rainbow that is Italy.

My heart has left, I don't know why. It's the place, the people, the love and the life, the language, the history, simplicity and complexity. My heart has left me for somewhere else.

As I dig deeper, my arms reach further out. Perhaps it's the age I am at, just hitting that stage of wanting to leave the nest and trying out my wings. I'm wishing to leave everything behind. My endless, direction-less, perpetual sprint has turned into a compulsion to fly.

My home is no longer mine. And I want for nothing more than to come home.

Invisible Wars

2009-08-22T09:16:00.002+08:00

How does one go about fighting battles that can't be seen?

Insanity is proving much more evasive than previously believed. Coming out of nowhere it hits then vanishes in the blink of an eye. Hitting back is a stupid yet compulsive attempt at putting up a useless defense against an attack that's already been fought and won. Negotiating only buries you deeper into its dungeons and in the end you lose all your limbs and your soul to boot.

How does one go about fighting battles that can't be seen?

No rhyme nor reason. No shame, no holds barred. No end in sight. No beginning to speak of. It came. It saw. It conquered.

How does one go about fighting battles that can't be seen?

Sit and hold. Stand up and glare. Stare. No use in closing your eyes, it comes to you from all sides. Insides and outsides. Clench, grit. Sweat and focus, and last.

Battles that can't be seen aren't meant to be fought, but to outlast. This, too, shall pass, so sayeth the wise. Not triumphant. For there are no winners in such battles. No prize to be had except the wisdom of living. Shut up and live.

Sadness Apparent

2009-07-04T08:40:00.007+08:00

Pagmamahal Atbp. Ayon Kay Bob Ong

2009-07-02T20:16:00.002+08:00

1. “Kung hindi mo mahal ang isang tao, wag ka nang magpakita ng motibo para mahalin ka nya.”

2. “Huwag mong bitawan ang bagay na hindi mo kayang makitang hawak ng iba.”

3. “Huwag mong hawakan kung alam mong bibitawan mo lang.”

4. “Huwag na huwag ka hahawak kapag alam mong may hawak ka na.”

5. “Parang elevator lang yan eh, bakit mo pagsisiksikan ung sarili mo kung walang pwesto para sayo. Eh meron naman hagdan, ayaw mo lang pansinin.”

6. “Kung maghihintay ka nang lalandi sayo, walang mangyayari sa buhay mo.. Dapat lumandi ka din.”

7. “Pag may mahal ka at ayaw sayo, hayaan mo. Malay mo sa mga susunod na araw ayaw mo na din sa kanya, naunahan ka lang.”

8. “Hiwalayan na kung di ka na masaya. Walang gamot sa tanga kundi pagkukusa.”

9. “Pag hindi ka mahal ng mahal mo wag ka magreklamo. Kasi may mga tao rin na di mo mahal pero mahal ka.. Kaya quits lang.”

10. “Kung dalawa ang mahal mo, piliin mo yung pangalawa. Kasi hindi ka naman magmamahal ng iba kung mahal mo talaga yung una.”

11. “Hindi porke’t madalas mong ka-chat, kausap sa telepono, kasama sa mga lakad o ka-text ng wantusawa eh may gusto sayo at magkakatuluyan kayo. Meron lang talagang mga taong sadyang friendly, sweet, flirt, malandi, pa-fall o paasa.”

98 til 27

2009-07-02T18:55:00.003+08:00

I am twenty-six. Turning twenty-seven in a few more months.

In a few more months, I'd no longer be in my mid-twenties. I'd be going up another notch to my late twenties. What have I done to deserve this? All this life. All these years. What have I done to deserve them all?

For a while there, at least for a year or so, I was able to distract myself from myself. For a while, I forgot to look at my face in the mirror and see myself. But I'm back to staring at the mirror. And it hasn't gone away. My sadness remains. I'm starting to think it never does go away. I seem to have had it forever. It comes and it goes, like a pesky colds virus. It's just there. And there's no real cure for it. The best you can hope for is to take something that would let it hibernate til the next rain. Or the next burning heat. Or the next cold wind.

And a cold wind rises from depths of my history. And I feel another sneeze coming, so I hold my nose. But the pressure only continues to build up inside me.

I am twenty-six, for the next few months. I don't think I've deserved it.

What does it mean to be twenty-six? I have my ideas...but that's all they are. Born of hundreds of hours of television, film, and pages and pages of literary frill. I am twenty-six in theory. Not in reality.

What does it take to be twenty-six?

Success? Security? Family? Fame? Fortune? Independence? Contentment?

It's hard to say if I've achieved success yet... Security is relative... Everybody has family (or at least was born into one)... No fame. Never had material wealth. Independence? What is that? Contentment...

Sometimes, I think I am...content. Is that enough?

I guess if I have to ask, it probably isn't. So what do I have? What am I? I am back to where I started. With my sadness, to begin with. With my sadness to throw all my questions back at me.

I am twenty-six. What have I done to deserve this?

Gray Skies and Pouring Rain

2009-06-30T16:18:00.003+08:00

I've been thinking a lot, since it happened. I haven't cried much, since it happened.

People find it strange. I suffer their looks.
Surprise. Awe. Fear. Worry. Contempt.
I am not stone.

It isn't that I don't feel anything. It is that I don't feel grief.
Okay, so maybe that doesn't help my cause.

Can I help it that I do not grieve over death?
It is what it is. A finality. A certainty. I've known that for a long time. I've accepted it for its inevitability and my abject inability to do anything about it. It is a point you don't argue. A point we all get to. It is objective in its choice of victim, manner, and schedule. It must. It is.

I don't grieve for death. It is just an object. I grieve for life.

I grieve over wasted time, effort, love, opportunity, gifts, and good. I grieve over wrong decisions, stupidity, lies, and meanness. I grieve over crippling fears and senselessness. I grieve for the loss of life, not death.

I do not cry over death.

Stage 4

2009-06-24T07:25:00.001+08:00

I don't think I'm okay yet.

I wonder how long til I am...

2009-06-24T06:03:00.002+08:00

Oh, god...how do I tell you? I still think about you...

Don't flatter yourself. I worry.

I wonder how your uncle's doing...is he better now? I wonder how your grandmother's doing...who's taking care of her now? Is it still you? I wonder about your parents, your friends, your work. How's everything at work? Are you tired? Do they treat you well?

I wonder about the weather there...how are your allergies? Have they gotten any better? Are you taking your meds? How's the heat? Has it become unbearable? How's your hair? Has it grown long now? How are your bills? Are you able to manage them?

I don't even ask myself how often you think of me, if you do at all. I don't know why it doesn't bother me as much. I just care. And I don't know if you care at all that I do.

I've come to know so much. I've cared so much.
Even now. I want to ask. I want to talk. But it's no longer my business. It's not my place anymore. I just hope you're taking care of yourself...

I can't imagine anymore, what it would have been like. You stopped me dead in my tracks. I can't see our faces anymore. But I still worry...I worry about you.

Maybe because I can't see you anymore. Maybe because I can't care anymore.

I wonder, will I ever end this wondering? Will I ever find my answers?

Even the Wind and the Sea Obey Him

2009-06-21T11:27:00.002+08:00

Biblical Reflection for the 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time B
Father Thomas Rosica, CSB

TORONTO, JUNE 17, 2009 (Zenit.org).- There are many biblical passages that reveal the imagery of the angry sea. The Lord redeems his people from slavery in Egypt by turning the sea against the Egyptians [Exodus 15:8]. Other times the roaring waves of the sea are tamed only after fierce struggles [Psalm 89, Isaiah 51:9-10]. The sea mythology of the Old Testament underlies the first reading, psalm and Gospel for the 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time [B]. In the Scriptures, the sea becomes a hostile, angry, dangerous area.

The question of Job is one asked by humanity throughout the ages: "Why do good, innocent people suffer?" Throughout the book, Job has been asking God to justify his actions, and God's response forms the key section of the whole book. Chapter 38 begins the next to the final section in this book, in which God finally answers the ultimatums hurled at the divine throne. God responds by firing questions at Job about creation, implying that Job cannot explain his suffering because God's response basically challenges Job's right to question the Almighty!

Today's small excerpt from the magnificent speech of God surrounds the Lord with the most awesome imagery. The Lord addressed Job out of the whirlwind and questioned him about the control of the ocean waves. "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding" [Job 38:4]. "Or who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb?" [Job 38:8] The implied question is: If Job cannot understand God's providence for the sea and the powers of nature, how will he ever grasp divine care for humans? For the author of Job, power means service.

Psalm 107 points out the mercies of God as demonstrated in the fate of individuals, and provides some insights into the multiplicity of ways in which God's loving-kindness is displayed. The psalm speaks of a variety of dangers that confront believers: travel by land, imprisonment, sickness, and travel by sea. Consider the rich images used throughout this psalm: "stormy winds that lift up the waves of the sea" [107:25]; waves that mounted up to heaven then had their courage melt away" [107:26].

The storm and the waves hold people prisoners, and now that their own resources are at an end, they realize that the Lord alone can deliver them from the grasp of these elements. In desperation the people cry out, God intervenes and the people admit indebtedness. The transformation of the storm into a gentle breeze dramatizes the Lord's response to people in need. When the psalmist says that the waves of the sea were hushed, the Hebrew word used means not so much to be silent but rather to grow still. In fact, in biblical literature this word is used only here and in Jonah 1:11, 12 with reference to the calming down of the turbulent sea and in Proverbs 26:20 in connection with the cessation of contention.

Love at the center

In today's second reading [2 Corinthians 5:14-17], Paul speaks of his love of Christ and his personal conviction of that love which is the central motivation in his ministry. The Greek phrase for "love of Christ" includes both our love for Christ and Christ's love for us, whereby Christ is both the object and subject of love. Only if Christ loves us first, by dying and rising, can we love in return. Because we share in his death and resurrection, we can no longer live for ourselves but are to live a new life of service in imitation of Christ. Paul also notes that he had to change his view of Christ and see him not from a merely human standpoint but in the light of revelation in the Spirit. If we see Christ from God's viewpoint, then we should view everyone from the same perspective. Paul then brings the passage to a climax, insisting that everyone who is in Christ is a new creation and that everything is new -- "everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" [2 Corinthians 5:17]. The power of God in Jesus is a reality, which, for our benefit, restrains itself so humbly and so completely, that we experience it as holy freedom -- a freedom that removes fear and gives us the courage to act.

In the New Testament, the sea almost always represents a moment of conversion. It is along the sea that Jesus calls others to join him in his prophetic ministry and outreach to the poor and the sick. A sudden squall on the Sea of Galilee provides the crisis in today's Gospel story [Mark 4:35-41] that takes place after a full day of teaching for Jesus. The calming of the storm is also a great teaching moment for Jesus. When the disciples awake him, they address him as "Teacher."

Throughout the entire storm at sea, Mark insists on Jesus' calmness and rootedness in God. He is "in the stern, asleep on the cushion" [Mark 4:38], trusting in God, in contrast to the disciples, who are frightened. When they rebuke Jesus for sleeping, he rebukes them for their lack of faith. In Mark's account, both the disciples' words to Jesus and his responses to them are quite harsh. Matthew and Luke soften both statements, but here the disciples really rebuke Jesus -- and his rebuke to them doesn't merely speak of "little faith" but of "no faith."

The calming of the storm reveals much to us, for as the first reading from Job has indicated, only God can control the wind and sea. Jesus does much more than quiet the storm waves roaring across the sea and tossing the boat from side to side or tipping it dangerously into the waters. Jesus shares God's control of the seas, emerging as the new creator, bringing peace and order out of the primordial chaos and establishing himself as Ruler over the new Kingdom of Israel.

Riding the waves

Besides indicating Christ's divine power over nature, the calming of the story suggests his power over evil -- for the sea commonly symbolizes evil and chaos. The boat is already a symbol of the Church, so the story also challenges us to trust in Christ's power so that we can persevere through the storms that assail us as individuals and as a Church. Mark writes to his own community, which experiences chaos in the Lord's absence. It's almost as if the Lord is sleeping -- uninvolved. Jesus challenges this lack of faith and affirms his continuing presence with power.

On the sea nothing happens normally, but always in abrupt or marvelous or very difficult ways. These are moments of decision with far-reaching consequences, in which the circumstances and even the timing are not in our control. The biblical passages of Jesus on the Sea of Galilee, especially today's calming of the storm, can help us in recognizing such moments in our own lives and in guiding us through them.

A boat was a common symbol for the Church -- here it is a symbol of a storm-tossed community crying out for help. Christ seems asleep and unconcerned, but he is in total control of the situation. The statement of peace recalls the greeting of the risen Christ. With Christ we pass through the raging sea and already share in his calm strength -- even though like Job our questions may remain unanswered.

Today's readings clearly show that power must ultimately take the form of loving involvement. Who are the holders of power in our day-to-day experience? Power resides with parents, teachers, elected officials, Church leaders, and many others. The measure of genuine power is found in self-sacrifice. Parents give all for their children; teachers labor long hours for their students; pastors gladly spend themselves for their communities. The result of all this is new life for both the leader and the follower. Jesus gave his life in history's ultimate display of power and service. His life, especially in the midst of the storms, teaches us how to live in the midst of the storms of our own lives and times.

This week, let us take some time to reflect on the following questions that flow from our Scripture texts for the day: What are my deepest fears? How have I experienced God bringing order out of the chaos of my life? How is our Church storm-tossed today, and by what signs do we know that Jesus is fully in control of the situation?

[The readings for the 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time B are Job 38:1, 8-11; 2 Corinthians 5:14-17; and Mark 4:35-41]

Love, Love, Love

2009-06-13T19:20:00.003+08:00

04 April 2007, Unsolicited posted by Winnifred

http://plunkert.blog.friendster.com/

these past few days, i’ve been thinking a lot. and since i can’t seem to wrap my head around the thoughts i’ve been trying to contain, i’ve been singing a lot.

strange.

a friend reminded me a few days ago how it’s better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. yeah. i used to think i agreed with that, until he asked me to look it in the nose and say it in one breath. i don’t believe in it. even though i really want to (i think), i can’t. i don’t know if i can BE wrong about something so invaluable. i don’t know if i’d be willing to "have loved and lost". love is too precious. and too abused. turned too tepid. been dealt with too callously. i don’t want to be another who would do that to SOMETHING that has been my life’s blood.

but i still am wanting love, perfect or no. just now needing someone to knock my head senseless to give me some sense.

what is love anyway? do i dare discuss? all the songs never really give you a good idea of what it is, no matter how good the melody. poetic words only seem to manifest its emotions, but not really its life. here’s what i found from deep inside my head where the barump-bump suddenly made sense:

love is a verb. it is something that does. strange. love is choice. an act of will.

one now begs to argue, is there still love when a person does something unwillingly? is the love true when there is no sincerity? yes. i would say yes.

it’s easy to just look at everything from the surface. i think that’s pretty much how we function as human beings. it would drive us nuts if we tried to figure out the essence of every action, every thought. but it doesn’t mean that we never do. what are we here for?

doing something unwillingly, without sincerity, can be love. if the reason was to act in love. else, why would you do something you would not want to do if it wasn’t out of intimidation, fear, invevitability? some would say ‘loved’ ones can be quite intimidating. loving is intimidating. if you love someone, you won’t have any choice but to do what is asked, even if unwillingly. and is that love? true love? true love. true, if it is done in love and nothing else. not in basic human need which can be quite similar, or even in basic human want. it can be quite complicated since love can turn into both. but it doesn’t have to be. true or no, is it love? yes. loving IS intimidating, because it means laying down one’s freedom for the sake of another. if you love someone, you will do what is asked because you forego other options for the sake of another, and that’s ALL that you see. you won’t have a choice simply because you CHOSE it to be so. you love. the action is without sincerity, but the choice to do such insincere action for the sake of another is real. you love.

we love what we know. and i mean, KNOW. through and through. of course. what we know, simply is not part of our existence. and those we care to stop knowing, we don’t love, or have lost love.

and here, my thoughts pour out, of the past few days i have sung. there is no greater love than this, that one should lay down his life for another. ideally, it wouldn’t matter if we KNEW the other, through and through. but we are too human to be ideal.

to those i love, i do what i do, i hope for reasons you would understand. but i cannot always guarantee that.

i do for love. i do in love.

i have fallen. but i have not lost. no one has ever lost me. take my hand and lead me away.

A Lesson on S&M

2009-06-13T15:38:00.001+08:00

7 Mistakes That Prolong The Misery Of A Breakup
by YourTango, on Tue Jun 9, 2009 5:37am PDT
http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/7-mistakes-that-prolong-the-misery-of-a-breakup-473522/

Breaking up is hard to do. What can be even more difficult than the actual split is the aftermath: getting over the loss and trying to start fresh. Many people can get stuck after a breakup by finding excuses to stay in contact with their former lover.

In her new book, Getting Past Your Breakup, Susan J. Elliot says that a rule of "No Contact" with an ex is necessary to fully heal and grieve after a tough breakup. Although she understands how difficult this notion can be (she has personal experience in the department of contacting exes), she says, "in order to truly get past your breakup, you need to separate emotionally, physically, and psychologically from the relationship, and the primary way to do that is to stop talking to your ex."Read: Stay Together or Break Up? How To Decide Now

In her blog, GettingPastYourPast, Elliot learned from people who struggled with contacting exes. She found seven major excuses that we use in order to rationalize remaining in touch.

1. Why can't we be friends? This sounds nice but in reality an ex does not make a true friend, especially immediately after the breakup.

2. I must have closure. Closure can be difficult to obtain no matter how many conversations one has. The best closure can come from resisting the urge for dialogue and moving on.

3. I just need to make sense of it all, and I just have one more thing to say before you go. Another version of closure and another reason to stay in contact when in reality this just gives your ex another opportunity to hurt you. Not fun.

4. I want to be available for reconciliation. Wanting to get back together is a fair feeling to have. Even if you do end up reconciling, the relationship will undoubtedly be different. It is still important to take some time without speaking in order to mourn the relationship and contemplate how you really feel.

5. I just need to give his stuff back. Do it quickly, in the first couple days. After that, use one of our many mail services.

6. I miss the physical intimacy. And your ex is familiar because you know him or her (and it won't increase your "number"). But again, this is just prolonging the inevitable and will keep you stuck in the past. Time to cut off the ex and find someone new (or maybe even just yourself) to get jiggy with.

7. We run in the same circles. If this is the case, you won't be able to help running into your ex, but that does not mean you need to get in touch afterward. Keep your conversations polite, brief and away from anything that can bring up negative feelings from the past. Obviously easier said than done.

So while our natural reaction to a breakup may be to keep in touch, whatever the reason, in order to successfully move on, the No Contact rule is a good place to start. No matter how much we want to rationalize, the sooner we stop talking to our ex, the faster we'll move on.

Waking Up To Life

2009-05-08T09:08:00.001+08:00

Fidelity Rings True

2009-05-07T17:48:00.001+08:00

Story of My Life

2009-05-07T14:35:00.004+08:00

Do I dare write about the details not normally brought to light by authors driven by the fantasy and escapism, not the little inconvenient and ugly details that actually make up reality?

It has been my preoccupation for the greater part of my young life to hold myself back, seeing the terrible and awesome consequences of never holding on. As such, every single opportunity brings for me dread so intense that it nearly always paralyzes not just my carnal being but renders me witless as well.

Countless well-meaning and hard-earned friends have tried their damnedest to placate my silly fears only to bring themselves to shame once the most terrible things I prophesied reveal their true form. And so, I fold in to myself scared a hundred times more at the accuracy with which I consistently condemn myself.

Coming out of my shell has become such a rare occurrence that I have earned the reputation of being an ice princess -- cold, untouchable, unreachable...virgin. But most are never aware of the agony of opening even just to catch an elusive whiff of air. I am fraught with the intense pain it takes for me to force my hand to pull open the door handles and the heaviness pushing massively on my heart representative of the dread that lies unknown beyond the slightest opening.

It is such a painful experience that I have early on resolved to only allow myself to suffer through that if the the light were bright enough coming through the gap between the door and the floor or if the torture of loneliness drove me into becoming a shallow little headless chicken running amok until the impassive facade of the door slams hard into my faceless, headless self. And once open, the brilliance blinds me instantly that I never truly know the face of what is beyond the door.

Blind, I am left with no choice but to hold out my hands, letting go of all things that anchor me and keep me safe at the illusion of greatness; greatness that reveals itself to be unkind to those that closed their doors on it. And I closed my door on it, a long time ago. Thus, I am the victim of my own foolish unkindness, my fears. I turn into a messy and ugly whirlpool swallowing itself alive. And it goes on and on. In my crazed attempt to protect myself, I cursed myself.

This is the story of my life.

TAG

2009-05-02T15:31:00.004+08:00

How strange is it to find so many people with same name as you, spelled exactly the same way you naively thought was quite unique and original?

Yes. I've been Googling myself. I was awestruck at the number of things that can be called...well, me! Am I having an identity crisis?

Anyway, the reason I Googled myself was because I had recently developed a friendship with another person online. And, strange as it may seem since I knowingly and willfully entered into this friendship and decided to pursue it, I've since developed into a witless 'closet' case. I pursue the friendship yet I don't allow it to catch hold of me. Like playing tag and being 'it' and chasing all the other kids around but not really wanting to actually 'tag' them. I hate that my friends are so right about me when they say I'm so darn afraid of being vulnerable. Damn it!

So why am I so itching to play tag when I obviously don't wish to follow the rules? Because once I tag somebody, then they get the chance to chase me. And I've never enjoyed being the prey. But isn't that what's so fun about playing tag?

I hate being afraid. I mean, let's face it, who isn't? Well, to be honest quite a lot of people actually. Because once the fear kicks in, adrenaline just goes flooding into your veins and it's a high like nothing else -- I've heard.

And there you go. I just lost all ideas about how to play tag. Do I let myself be tagged, or wait til I get chased? Do I tag someone else right away or just keep running around like crazy hoping that nobody's noticed you haven't tagged anybody yet? I'm just afraid people will realize I'M NOT VERY GOOD AT TAG. But shouldn't that make it more fun? And why ask all these questions you know the answer to? There is nothing you can do. People will tag you if they want to, run after you if they could. They'll let themselves be tagged by you or run like hell away from you. All you can do is run with your arms flailing out in front of you and let everything take its natural course.

2009-04-13T13:36:00.004+08:00

I've finally found time to write. Type.

It hasn't actually been that long, but it HAS been that long. I ached for the time when I could finally pour myself out onto something, and then having realized the power of paper...I couldn't.

The past couple of weeks were chaos for me. And I haven't been through all that since the ground was snatched from under me when I was eleven. I accumulated so much anguish, relief, anxiety, joy, weariness, frustration and peace that it wasn't long until I simply had to find some random toilet to vomit it all out. It was a struggle to keep it all in and sort it all out on my own. Well, maybe not completely on my own...

The only thing keeping me anchored throughout all of this was reading. I read. For the life of me, I read and kept on reading. In four days I finished three books. In a week I finished five, and now I'm half past my sixth. And it was then, while I kept my nose buried in all those pages, that I found a new appreciation for The Page, The Printed Text.

Everything came to life and suddenly had a mind of its own, lending itself onto one's consciousness. It was now history and memory and potential. It was influence and passion and dream. It was reality. And then I was afraid. I felt fear, and awe and new found respect. Paper and Print had the ability to come alive, living and breathing, not by the author, no. But, by every reader that comes and lifts off its every word.

And how deeply it affected me, I cannot say. All I know is that apart from being Writer, I find I am now also Editor. It is no longer easy for me to keep the words flowing. Some have to be kept, and some restrained. Some, even, must be erased or altogether changed - deliberately. Necessarily. Because who knows how these words will be read? And unless I can guarantee that mine shall be the only pair of eyes to set on them, who knows what they can do?

And so all I've written, typed, here are not all I've wanted to say. Even though Virtual Text isn't quite as powerful as its printed counterpart, one cannot be too careful anymore.

For Good

2009-03-29T12:30:00.004+08:00

For all who changed, all who leave. For all who stay. For what we were. For what's become of us.

I've heard it said

That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for

But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share

And none of it seems to matter anymore

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood

Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

And because I knew you...
I have been changed for good...

Audacity

2009-03-10T19:16:00.002+08:00

Damn.

Tom Cruise has started advertising himself.

Somebody give him a want ad.

Have pity on the poor thing and end his suffering.

If I'd only kept my daddy's gun...

"Ugly" Attraction

2009-01-24T21:18:00.012+08:00

Growing up in the late 80's-90's era Philippines, afternoon telenovelas were a staple for me. Don't ask me to enumerate which ones were my favorite, else you'd never hear the end of it. From neverending local rags-to-riches, warlord-cum-damsel-in-distress plotlines to Spanish high society melodrama, I breathed it all in.

Spanish telenovelas have always been popular, even stateside. In fact, one of their more recent hits was eventually pirated into its own Hollywood version, "Ugly Betty". That one, I didn't really catch on to. I was already in college and into the indie hype when it hit Filipino national TV. I tried to watch a few bits and pieces of the american version every now and then. I figured, hey, if it won Emmys and Globes they must be getting something right. But quite honestly, I found the show a little bit too -- er -- orange.

But I caught a season 2 rerun of one of the later episodes aaand, you know, it wasn't all that bad. The charm really came from the character of pregnant Charlie and how Betty simply wanted to strangle her. Don't ask me to retell the story. This is not THAT kind of blog. I found that I did, too! I would've quite happily strangled her and skipped on to the nearest mall and shopped for a cute new pair of shoes. I tried going regular from that episode hence (tried being the operative word) and found myself getting caught once again by that treacherous web telenovelas spin upon their audience. Granted, the american version is more of a comedy/drama -- once famously known as a "dramedy" popularized by the late great show "Ally McBeal" of the same creator as "Grey's Anatomy" -- than the telenovela of its Spanish mother and therefore could not be expected to be quite as spellbinding, but it does make its audiences happy.

Particularly addictive is that traitorous love triangle abruptly brought on by the unwanted return of Betty's former beaux Henry. If you're a fan of the show, I don't have to tell you who I'm rooting for. Ass. Whoever said happy endings are overrated? Do you know how long it's been since I've HAD a happy ending? Jeez, man. I felt for Betty, through and through, at the same time wanted to scream into the telly to CHOOSE GIO, DAMMIT! I honestly, can't believe that Henry still had the gall to comeback, and with a Ring, mind you, after everything that's happened between him and Charlie, and him and Betty and Charlie. For a nerd, he really isn't all THAT smart.

Now, see, here is where I admit I have a problem.

My life and all the grey hairs it has afforded me has faded into a teeny little pinhead compared to Betty's love problems. Her life has now become mine. Her insecurities, mine. Her heartaches, mine. I have gone ORANGE.

I, honestly (for now, anyway), don't care. AS LONG AS YOU CHOOSE GIO! Don't ask me why. Go watch the reruns yourself. Or get to another blog. I'm not like THAT. Which is, quite frankly, pretty pathetic and sad really.

But the cherry that tops it all off really is that in spite of Betty's horrible sense of overwhelming nonfashion and frighteningly dangerous mouthful of metal, two incredibly cute guys are after her whereas I, who have neither a masochistic sense of self-image nor armed and dangerous chompers, have none. Maybe there's something to all of that colorful clothing and shiny metal that blinds cute men. I dunno...

Upchuck The New "Chuck"

2009-01-10T21:11:00.008+08:00

One fine day sometime in the year of our Lord, 2008, I grasped my ole Faithful remote in my hand and switched on Lady TV. There, I first laid eyes and ears to Chuck. And I was hooked.

Taking from someone else's page, Zachary Levi starred as computer geek and social misfit Chuck Bartowski in this heady NBC combination of comedy, fantasy, espionage, teen angst and wish fulfillment. While working a technical-support firm called the Nerd Herd, Chuck accidentally downloaded millions of megabytes of government secrets into his own brain! This made him an invaluable commodity to his former college roommate Bryce Larkin (Matthew Bomer), whom Chuck had always assumed was an accountant but was actually a CIA agent. Recruiting Chuck as a human "secret weapon", Bryce was also saddled with the responsibility of keeping our hero alive--or at least, out of the hands of the Enemy. Lightening Chuck's burden considerably was his sexy contact person Sarah Walker (Yvonne Strahovski), who somehow managed to shed most of her clothes in each episode. Also in the cast were Adam Baldwin as irascible CIA boss Maj. John Casey, Joshua Gomez as Chuck's goofy best friend Morgan Grimes, Sarah Lancaster as Chuck's troublesome sister Ellie, and, at Nerd Herd headquarters, Mark Christopher Lawrence as manager Big Mike, C.S. Lee as assistant manager C.S. Lee, and Chuck's coworkers Anna (Julia Ling), Lester (Vik Sahay) and Jeff (Scott Krinsky). And it all may seem too much, too confusing, but really all the details fall together perfectly like one crazy bag of nuts. I followed the show religiously for its entire first season and quite truthfully was absolutely pinching and squinching for the second season.

I was patient. Chuck was hot, and I knew it would take some time before it reached the subterrains of our broadcast systems. And so when I caught the last 3 seconds of its second season premiere, I just about jumped out of my skin in outrage at the total lack of warning. The complete absence of notice of its airing. I didn't even get to take note of its time slot I was so incensed!

I groped around the TV Land looking for another glimpse of the show, until it finally dawned on me to ask my equally TV-dependent brother if he knew anything of Chuck's new season. Armed with his barely reliable man-data of Chuck's new time slot, I finally tuned in to my first dose of second season computer-spy-geek-action two weeks later.

Aaaand, my oh my. Money does change everything. Apparently, even computer-spy-geeks normally known to staunchly never sell out in spite of the overabundance of vanity in modern society.

What was so great about the first season was that Chuck was such a breath of fresh air from the cliche lineup of overdramatized forensic shows, promiscuity-flavored medical shows, soft-porn-masquerading-as-teen-shows, and tabloidish reality shows. It was quick and sharp. Plotlines were simple and easy to follow even if they lay them one on top of the other, and best of all, the cast was GENUINE! Who wouldn't believe that Zachary Levi, Joshua Gomez, Julia Ling, Vik Sahay, and Scott Krinsky were really the geeks of Buy More's Nerd Herd? That Adam Baldwin and Yvonne Strahovski were spies? They looked, breathed, and lived it! At least til before the second season aired.

One episode. All it took was one episode and I knew, I wouldn't be watching this show anymore. Gaaaad. Everybody was wearing HAIR PRODUCT! And the geeks were dolled up in MAKE-UP! Joshua Gomez now sports a mohawk and Vik Sahay looks like a girl, for heaven's sake. How completely insulting. Even Chuck, tsk tsk. What, have I missed celebrity Beauty and the Geek featuring the cast of Chuck?!?

And the problems go down to the core. Lines were cliche and the plot so damn OBVIOUS! Gaaaad. If this was what I asked for, I would've watched CSI: Miami instead. But this is Chuck man!

How could you, Josh Schwartz? You should be ashamed of yourself.

And I had such high hopes for you when you finally decided to kill off Mischa Barton in the O.C. I mean, something had to finally work, right? She's been drugged, drunked, raped...whodathunk a simple car accident would finally do the trick? Are you trying to do the same for Chuck Bartowski?

Have some mercy, man! It's only his second season and the show's got a bit more life left in its loins. Lay off the cosmetics and lay off your lousy writers! You just wasted the total star power of Jordana Brewster and the cult attraction of a lovable spy geek in Zachary Levi.

Sigh.

I guess I should've known. The moment I found out that Josh Schwartz, creator of the show O.C., came up with this completely fresh and witty new action-comedy Chuck, I felt it was too good to be true. Looks like he's proven me right.

Ass! I am NOT happy.

Going Pro

2009-01-03T10:22:00.003+08:00

I don't have one of those easy engaging personalities some people are cursed with from birth. I am what some people would enviously call a snob.

Har-har.

Starting out a weblog, I understood the very essence of it and in my own personal attempts at it, resolutely stuck to it in order to maintain its integrity and would not, would never, succumb to corrupting it to satisfy my baser and more superficial material needs. Until now.

Since its conception, I have always scorned the professional blog. What the f*** is that? It's like professional sharing of your personal person. Wouldn't that be tantamount to whoring? Accepting, sometimes even soliciting, payment in exchange for self? I cannot conceive of a more appropriate word.

Of course, the outcome isn't quite as graphic nor sexually inclined as my former description might imply. The outcome can be as dry as a paid article on the latest innovations on electronic gadgetry or a discourse on the newest leisure establishment in town. But who cares about the outcome when the means toward such ends is the same?

Well, now I guess all that doesn't matter because now here I am jumping on the bandwagon. And,oh, how I hate riding bandwagons. But what makes me change my mind now, you ask? Desperate times. And maybe even a little bit of my pride served on a spoon.

And so I ask myself, why not? People have always told me I'm a decent writer and could benefit from it if I wanted to. But see, those who know me most know that I can't. Not if it's for the money alone. Great writers never penned for the money. The money was a fortunate side effect. So do I now pen (or type in this case) for money? Am I a writer or just another technology whore?

A little of both, I guess. Yes, an important object is profit but I wrench myself inside out trying to preserve the integrity of my writing. It is still supremely important to me to focus on the technique and to bring out beautiful ideas -- no matter if the ideas are on sale. And if there is a bite, to some degree I have some consolation that they who did recognized the effort in putting up the bait. Or at the very least, are biting into refined taste.

Come visit theloveblug.

Wanted:

2008-12-01T15:41:00.003+08:00

A wedding date for three (3) nearly consecutive weddings coming up within the next six weeks.

The first one comes right after Christmas, on December 26, is an afternoon wedding with an early evening/cocktails reception at a fine hotel.

The second comes two days after, on the 28th. A little less formal, though on a slightly larger scale. Reception is, uh, still unbelievable therefore shall remain unconfirmed.

The third and the last comes nearly three weeks after, on January 17, providing one ample time to prepare as it is the most important wedding of the three. It will be a garden wedding with relatives painfully scrutinizing one's, uh, singlehoodedness (singledom?). In addition, there will be overwhelming pressure to participate in the bouquet (and garter) toss as yours truly is the still-shamefully-single-younger-sister of the groom. Expect heavy teasing and 20 million questions as regards your personality, family background, medical history, mental capacity and resume. One is also expected to stay til end of the reception.

REQUIREMENTS:

a decent suit -- or at the very least, dress pants and long-sleeved dress shirt, and gleaming dress shoes; that all three should match is a given
a clean face and all-around physique -- though an Adonis-type is not required, it is a definite advantage
a list of acceptable topics to fill in awkward moments of silence (ex. weather, food, movies, etc.)
an attention span of at least 90 seconds; less than that, would unfortunately be rejected immediately
a response time of not more than ten seconds, or else I should be doubtful as to one's mental health
a repertoire of basic dance steps for the subsequent reception

COMPENSATION PACKAGE:

free food and entertainment immediately succeeding the wedding ceremonies
transportation to the wedding location and reception shall be provided for
guarantee of pleasant, if not downright, handsome partnership of yours truly
inclusion in photo and video package of the wedding couple
possibility for post-wedding affiliation, of friendly or romantic nature, as depends on degree of attraction and mutual consent

Interested parties have the option to apply for any of the three wedding dates, though there is greater demand for applicants willing to attend all three. You may contact me through this blog for up to two days before a wedding date -- first, second, or third.

Antidote

2008-11-30T13:26:00.006+08:00

An interview with Eric Gudan, senior clinical extern at Alpha Omega Clinic and Counseling Services, and a doctoral candidate at the Institute for the Psychological Sciences, a Catholic graduate school of psychology, may just hold the key that unlocks the door.

Gudan: Gratitude is the positive emotional experience resulting from the recognition that another person has given you a benefit.

Gratitude is a positive moral affect. In other words, it is a pleasant feeling arising from the good action another has done to you, from judging that it has been good for you.

Almost everyone has experienced gratitude and regards it favorably, but some people are more grateful than others.

A more grateful individual will experience gratitude toward more people, for more events, more deeply, and for a longer period of time.

Multiple studies have shown that gratitude can inspire people to "pay it forward," responding to the gift of a good deed by giving another person the gift of a good deed, in addition to another gift returned to the original benefactor.

Thus, a grateful person is sensitive to gifts and goodness in the world. He sees good things around him and it lifts him up, moving him to action for others.

Q: What effect can the virtue of gratitude have on our mental health? What does the lack of gratitude do to our psychology?

Gudan: Studies have shown that most people upon making an expression of gratitude found that it contributed to feeling "extremely happy" or "somewhat happy."

A growing number of studies have linked gratitude with higher general feelings of happiness and have found that more grateful persons are more satisfied with life. This includes people who may not necessarily feel grateful, but attempt to arrive at the virtue by mental exercises such as thinking about the gifts that they received.

Thus, whenever you feel grateful you are happier, and when you practice gratitude you are happier.

Q: In particular, how can the virtue of gratitude affect the life of someone who struggles with depression?

Gudan: Depression is a complicated thing, an inter-related web of multiple causes and consequences involving genetics, brain chemistry, attitudes, behaviors, and interpersonal relationships. It is difficult for psychologists to distinguish what is the cause and what is the consequence of the various aspects of depression.

However, one way of confronting depression is seeing the power that negative attitudes have upon our experience of the world and our relationships, affecting our behaviors and ultimately even our brain chemistry.

Depressed persons generally have a negative attitude and are frustrated with all the bad things that are happening to them. They feel like "they just can't get a break, that they just can't get what they want."

This negative attitude becomes a filter that focuses and amplifies all the bad things that happen.

For some reason, it is far easier for us to remember bad things that have happened to us rather than good things. Depressed persons think that "they are getting a raw deal from life and just don't have the ability to get what they want."

Gratitude, on the other hand, is the uplifting feeling resulting from the recognition that another person has done something good for us. Instead of a negative self-focus, gratitude has a positive other-focus.

Furthermore, gratitude naturally pushes us to act. Depressed persons have difficulty focusing and mustering the energy to do much of anything.

Gratitude helps us to be altruistic, which has multiple positive effects.

Q: Sometimes, a person who is depressed has trouble taking that "first step" toward getting better. What is the "first step" toward the virtue of gratitude?

Gudan: Yes, depression can be like a dark cloud that darkens thought and makes all movements sluggish. Little sparks of gratitude seem insufficient to start a blaze of positive activity in this damp environment.

However, I believe gratitude acts in a positive spiral. The depressed person can start by simply attempting to recognize gifts from others in order to begin to feel more grateful.

The "fake it 'till you make it" can be very effective.

But you asked me about the first step. Gratitude is not a "Pollyanna-ish" rose-colored glass that makes all of our problems go away.

The depressed person should not expect that feeling grateful will, overnight, turn around his negative attitudes or habits that his depression has been pushing him into for weeks.

First, I would tell someone to take realistic stock of where he is.

Yes, life is not as good as you would like. Yes, there are things you don't like about it. But this attitude simply leaves you less motivated and less happy. Would you like to try a different way to look at things?

Then, I would propose gratitude exercises, to build the virtue of gratitude by repeated practice. Again, although gratitude will not solve all your problems, it does help you see the problems in perspective as well as hidden resources and benefits.

Since the depressed person usually has weak gratitude muscles, it will take some building up to feel gratitude more easily, more often, and more intensely.

But it is definitely something we can get better at and will make us happier if we do. Sonja Lyubomirsky, a well-respected researcher on happiness, has theorized that while external circumstances and genetics account for a good portion of our happiness, 40% of our happiness is totally within our control.

A first exercise that I would recommend is keeping a gratitude journal every day for a week, and then once a week after that.

Simply list three things you are grateful for, and the person responsible. Allow yourself to feel positively because of these little benefits, which could be as small as a chance encounter with an old friend, the beauty of a sunset, or dinner made for you.

Another exercise that is particularly powerful is a gratitude visit. Reflect upon someone in your past who has significantly helped you, such as a teacher, whom you have never really explicitly thanked. Then, write that person a letter. For maximum benefit, deliver the letter in person.

Q: Do you think that the virtues are a cure for depression, or any other mental illness?

Gudan: I think that gratitude builds up the resources that help a person out of depression. It should not be seen as a cure for everyone, but it is helpful for anyone.

Gratitude improves a person's relationships with the human community and even with God so she can receive strength from others, including another person as well as the divine Person.

Furthermore, I believe it improves the person's resiliency so that circumstances that would otherwise start a depression do not overcome him.

Tough times will come and the person will not always be euphoric, but gratitude is a personal characteristic that anyone can work on to feel better and be better.

A grateful person is more psychologically healthy. Building virtues like gratitude is the psychological equivalent to eating healthier and getting more exercise; character strengths make us psychologically stronger and help us to flourish.

Q: What advice would you give to someone who is feeling "down" in a particular way around the holidays?

Gudan: Sometimes, a person might think she is obliged to feel thankful. Thanksgiving day, for example, may make people feel guilty for not being particularly grateful.

The holidays, when everyone seems to be so very happy, may augment the negative focus and push the person to think that he is somehow defective for not being more grateful or happy.

While gratitude is a very healthy attitude to increase, I would clarify the emotional from the cognitive components.

If you have received a gift but it still does not cheer you up, there is something else going on. You may have other concerns which are preventing you from seeing the gift as good as it is or you may judge that there are strings attached to this gift.

Indebtedness, the negative emotion arising from the reception of a gift, is not gratitude. If a person judges that the other gave the gift so that he would be in the benefactor's debt, it is easy to see why that would not cheer up the indebted individual.

Sometimes emotions can be so strong as to make it difficult to sort through what is going on in these interpersonal relationships. In these circumstances it sometimes requires the help of a therapist to see relationships as they are.

While some people do not give totally altruistically, most people do not give in a completely selfish way, either. It might help to ask: Is there any modicum of generosity that I can look at from this gift I have received?

When it is difficult to see any goodness in the action, our faith can help us to see things in a greater perspective.

Some saints have been able to feel gratitude toward their persecutors, at times, because the sufferings they endured allowed them to show their love for God. With this perspective then, it can help to consider something like: Is it possible to "reframe" the situation of the person who cut me off in traffic as an opportunity to learn patience?

In a more general way, every person that exists is a gift for you. Starting, of course, with you.

You did not have to exist, but God chose to give you the gift of life. Any other benefit you may possibly have, including eternal life in heaven, is possible because you have been given existence. Have an attitude of "gift" to see the good things that have been given to you.

We have been created to love and be loved. There is a way to consider every person you come into contact with as a gift, an opportunity to love in order to become the person you were made to be.

In addition, any love that you have experienced through another person is a gift. Thus, with this attitude, there is always something to be grateful for.
(By Genevieve Pollock. ALEXANDRIA, Virginia. Nov. 26, 2008.)
--- --- ---

I get it now.
That's why.

Chest Talk (Dibdibang Usapan)

2008-11-03T17:48:00.011+08:00

I am at a proverbial fork
in the road.

Which path do I take.

There is a certain sense of foreboding on either path that makes me hesitate to take another step. Forward. Any-ward.

Tell me which bit of mushroom will take me where I need to go? To a safe place where this heavy gloominess will release its hold on me. I am not happy.

I no longer find joy in the noble pursuit of my profession. I am devoid now of any passion for my work and my students and am left only with this dry bitterness and irascibility identified with a coarse spinster. I am automatic.

And I am sad. Because I love my work. Pardon the contradiction, but I can explain it no better.

I love my work and I should love my work. But I hate working. I hate it so much with such a deep deep dryness that turns my insides to dust. And I weep sand for what I do not have and cannot grasp.

I love the work. But it no longer makes me happy.
It doesn't make me sad.
It doesn't make me anything.
There is no joy. There is no hurt. There is no anything.

And I cannot bear that there isn't.

I hate that I am nothing. That I want nothing and work for nothing, and that I exert nothing for what is worth nothing. I am not happy.

Shall I then take the road that in my pride I once spurned?
The past couple of years I have, with great difficulty but nevertheless successfully, learned the valuable art of swallowing one's pride along with tattered remnants of my dignity. It gets easier with time and with frequency, because eventually there isn't much left of either to swallow.

It doesn't, however, make the decision any easier.

The road not less frequently traveled. It has, in fact, grown quite bumpy and riddled with debris by the innumerable people who have decided to stomp along it.

The wide and open gate fronting the wide and open road. Ultimately, that is all it really is. Nothing but cold, hard concrete. Asphalt, if you prefer. But, still, cold.
How, then, does this help my predicament? Am I not in a conundrum?

Yes.
But my desperation leads my feet to face this road.
And I am desperate.
I am desperate.

Cold and hard it may be, riddled with refuse but the smooth concrete will provide me (us) some sense of relief. And maybe I can breathe. Maybe I can finally breathe.

What will I do? Which road shall I take?
In spite of sincere words of care and caution, I am desperate. And you know what they say about the desperate...

I am desperate, and unhappy. I am unhappy.
I am unhappy.

Mouth-ful

2008-10-12T19:44:00.005+08:00

Sigh. I don't know what to say.

Does it follow now that I should say nothing? Logic seems to strongly advise me so. I've always listened well to logic. But then again, I need to sort things out and speaking out seems to help. Or at the very least, it's quite calming.

Soooooo many things on my mind. Just how many? Well, suffice it to say, even asleep my mind can't stop hollering things at my ear. I wake up groggy from a decent length of sleep as if I've just been watching late shows all night. I might as well have the way things were going.

What were - are - those prickly things nipping at my consciousness (and subconsciousness, mind you)?

1. The incredibly slow, almost static, cash flow I'm wading through right now - like quick sand it seems the more you struggle, the more suffocated you become. It almost makes it worth considering just staying still and letting yourself be overcome. Almost...almost. Nearly there...

2. My incredibly long list of tasks - it just leaves me dumbfounded. I need to: collate a booklet/handout for a lesson we're about to have (that we should've had), discuss the lesson we should've had - making use of my yet-to-be-collated-booklet/handout, prepare a letter informing everyone about a writing project we're initiating, initiatethewriting project,preparealayeredcurriculumcenteredonachosenchapterbook,openthechosenchapterbookandactuallystartdiscussingitsowecanstartonthelayeredcurriculum,contactacompanyforademowe'rerequestingintwodays,prepareatestwe'dbeadministeringinfourdays,prepareaworkshopwe'dbeconductinginfourdays,checkpapersandnotebookstobereturnedintwodays-attheverylatest,budgetmylessonplansinordertopredictandprepareanitineraryfortheendoftheweek,preparealistofcomprehensionbookstohelpamule-headedcouplecometogripsabouttherealityoftheirstrugglingdaughter,follow-uponmytragicheadcasesforthesakeofmyownsanityandthesanityoftheirparents,comeupwithsomesortofcontingentplantomakeupformybumblingidiocyatforgettingtogiveoutprizesinduetime,typemygoalstoformallysettheminescapablyinstone,andset(andactuallygothrough)anappointmentwithaparentwhosedaughter'sfutureisinmysweaty,shakinghands.

I think that's about it.

I.think.

3. My incredibly stressed and distressed colleague, whose future and sanity is on the brink, drives me up the wall just trying to toss her an inflatable and teaching her how to swim for it.

4. A moral dilemma and my own responsibilities in pursuing it plagues my conscience to no end like the Furies.

5. The impending turnover of an entire household and all its history, memory, afflictions and posterity just bears down on me and almost delivers the final blow. Almost...

6. My own personal sense of unfulfillment and constant search for all the things out of my grasp threatens to render me foolhardy and battles with my habitual tendency to rationality, stability, and bore.

7. And, the never-ending struggle to find a happy medium to my incredibly reactive intense emotionality and public decency and charity completely exhausts me down to the very dregs of my being.

Another week.

More time to ponder on all these things trying to find some way of reconciling all in order to, at the very least, resemble a walking-talking robot.

And so ends my soliloquy, solving nothing in its conclusion. I have sorted them neatly, as neatly as could be expected from such vicissitudes - that much I can say.

Now...now...it starts all over again. And again, waging a quieting battle with my mind, just to get some good night's sleep.

Retracted

2008-10-01T13:36:00.003+08:00

How difficult it is not to fight back when spat on and stepped on and slapped.

Your gut jacknifes and curdles and throws up on itself.

It is hard to see the dignity of holding back and stepping off to the side when your face is all red and your person is something to be picked up off the floor. Where's the dignity? Covered in gunge, a little bit cracked, but still okay. Better than the festering one with it's shoe holding you down.

From down here, you sort of get a different perspective of the world and society at large. An epiphany of how and why everything's falling apart. The surprise is gone and all things settle down like silt at the bottom of a murky river. The feeling's heavy and quite suffocating. What is one supposed to do at a time like this?

The strong urge to vomit comes upon me. Without being able to instinctively reach out as we are programmed to do, instinct has to find other ways of getting heard.

Dreams torture your mind so that your brain dries up and turns to stone. I am strong, it says. I am rock. Stone. Nothing can hurt me. Nothing can break me, when it lost its soul and all that remains is an echo of its voice.

There is a dignity in accepting blows. In being the anvil in this relationship. In the end, it's the hammer that takes the beating and has to be replaced.

Shut Trapped

2008-09-13T20:59:00.002+08:00

There is something to be said about things that don't get said. There are undoubtedly infinitesimal little tweaks in between verses composed in the minds that never find their ways out of lips or onto surfaces screaming with text. These seemingly innocent tiny little edits must eventually end up somewheres, but the question is where?

If it's tiny enough, maybe nowhere somewhere in the dark recesses of forgotten thoughts of baby steps and embarrassing moments, surfacing sometime after ten million gallons of alcohol or during a deepest, most troublesome sleep. Too tiny, a hiccup in the middle of REM, a slurr of a slip of a tongue. Watch out that it doesn't multiply, else it'll seep through cracks on gritted teeth and clenched jaws. Then those edits become one big raging cuss burning ears and paper with its venom.

And what if it's care? Folded neatly into squares and tucked tightly into corners away from all things fragile and alive, carefully sealed, so that all that is left is crisp, white and taut devoid of richness and flavour. It is plastic that bends and stays cool and warm in the same instance. No soul. No life. It is engineering sprouting thoughts and spewing words that clink on a shiny hard surface. Dead from the moment of conception.

There is something to be said about things that don't get said. The earth has ears and the winds answer back. Talk to trees and leaves for the sun shines on all even if it only rains on some. Words were never meant to be quiet. Otherwise, they'd be punctuation.

White Noise

2008-08-20T19:45:00.006+08:00

What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?
I am dissatisfied with my life. Who isn't?

What do you call it when you get sick of counting your blessings and you totally get the point already and still somehow you know--YOU KNOW--there's something missing and it makes all of those things you so meticulously counted seem completely and utterly insignificant and you can't really decide whether you're blessed or cursed or conceited or simply going insane at what's supposed to be the penultimate peak of what you now feel to be a pathetic life?

Crisis would be a good name to call IT.
Frustration?
Castration? Is this how it's like, boys?
AAAARGH!

A friend of mine has encouraged me to attend this talk at the end of the month about "Educating the Emotions". It's supposed to be a series leading up to what is now known as the quarter-life crisis. Thus, she has unknowingly given me what could be the antidote to all of these ageing angst which I've dragged with me all the way from pre-puberty (yes, I do believe I was that angst-y). Haha. I could be all daisies in my next post.

Follow That Rabbit

2008-08-01T20:23:00.003+08:00

"Pa'no mo nagagawa?"

I never even stopped to think about it.
Not 'til just then. I did. I do.

Now, I can't stop thinking. I never thought about where I got IT. Where I get IT. IT's just there. And IT just kept going. Kept me going. Everyday, one day, at a time.

Stepping back (a little) I do realize now I have more on my proverbial plate than I've ever had. I can't imagine where I put all of that baggage. Must've lost some of it...stowed it away... Dropping them off, one at a time, here...and there... Picking them up again, one at a time, as I get on with my day...

It didn't seem a lot. But now I realize it is.
If someone served up this plate to me right now, I'd refuse it. I don't know why I didn't.

The decisions seemed so clear cut. No room for second-guessing, calculating. Just jump.

And I kept on jumping. And jumping.

And where am I now? Where did Alice go? Lewis did not have time enough for me. He gave it all to the rabbit.

"Pa'no mo nagagawa?"
Eyes closed. Fists clenched. Bite your tongue. Don't think. And l.............e..............a...............p................

earth quakes (borrowing from myself)

2008-07-26T19:47:00.006+08:00

October 18, 2006
shifting rocks

it's been a while since. have i learned anything?

i learned that one should unplug appliances in the event of a power outage. that all the time in the world cannot make you finish your work. that not sleeping can actually make one gain weight (surprise). that i can still lose weight. that i can still read. that i lost the ability to dance. and that i can barely sing.

that when one thing in your life makes a turn for the good, something's gotta give. then everything else follows.

that growing up entails a grueling and painful hating and breaking off of filial ties. that it means becoming and realizing that you wish you belonged to another tree, but not really.

that when it comes to an abundance of money, you do the opposite of what you would normally do.

that you can't be a lazyass forever. because old people who are lazy get fat, ugly, grumpy, and old.

that a pile of papers is not the worst thing in the world.

that people will continue to despise you in spite of your best efforts to be a saint. that it's normal. that it's not okay, but it's nobody's fault.

people are people.

that in spite of spending your entire life trying to be different, you're still no different from everybody else.

that i've probably changed little, if not at all, over the past ten thousand years. and that people are still surprised by me.

And people still surprise me.

Truth hurts. And it doesn't change.

Worth

2008-06-29T12:53:00.002+08:00

June 1-15:
6,990 (approx)
- 1,000 monthly mobile
- 3,000 forcible savings (untouchable)
- 2,000 househelp
- 350 transportation for ten days (two weeks approx -- til next payday)
- 500 help to a friend more desparate than me (if you can imagine)
140

June 16-30:
8,313 (exact)
- 5,876 monthly electricity
- 3,000 forcible savings (untouchable)
- 350 transportation for ten days (two weeks approx -- til next payday)
- 913

*not yet included: everything that matters

Prayer

2008-06-29T11:48:00.003+08:00

Where do people get the strength? I'm just tired. Lord, I'm tired.

I don't see the end.

God Is In The Rain

2008-06-22T17:39:00.004+08:00

12 noon morning

2008-06-21T12:56:00.002+08:00

I'm not washing my face.

Not bathing
or brushing my teeth.
I'm keeping the muck of yesterday on me.

It's the weekend.
I don't have to care about shite.

Isang Linggo

2008-06-21T11:28:00.004+08:00

Don't ask don't tell.
You know who you are.
Let me speak and leave me be.
I have nowhere else.
I have nothing else.

It only lasted me a week.
Not even.
By Wednesday I was crying my eyes out
sobbing for air.

I'm fighting for my life here.

What do I have to do to jolt myself out of this pit?

I am afraid of being home. What it holds for me.
All that I love and all that I hate.
I have to shut my eyes tight and buckle myself down
just to keep myself from running.
To remind myself
I have nowhere to run to.

And so I drag myself home.
Drink my coffee.
Sit myself on my mattress.
Grip my heart and fall to pieces on my pillow.

I can't even lose myself in sleep.
Somehow I wake up just
before I get lost,
just when I loose myself enough from the grips of reality.
From waking up.

Oh joy. Why do you hide from me?

It's hard to explain
to people
all this.
That I'm feeling.
My heart, my soul
runny on my left sleeve.

I choose to heave this on my breaking, untempered back.
It's my own fault that I can't run from the anvil strapped to my shoulders
like disgruntled Wiley Coyote.
I guess I never thought it would get heavier with every lumbering baby step.
The weight just keeps piling on
and I was never good at recognizing
a helpline til I'm completely over the edge.

No questions. No begging.
I don't think it's pride.
Just blatant and utter stupidity on my part to think that people will do things on their own
out of the goodness of their hearts.
That somehow they're so in tune with me and with everything else, that
the world somehow just has this mysterious awareness and that everything will just fall into place oh so naturally without the slightest bit of anything. ANYTHING.
And I'm so stupid and completely selfish, I know. And what's even more stupid and unforgivable is that I know
and I know and still
I won't budge
and I will wait
and wait until
everything falls naturally into place
of their own free will.
And it seldom, if it ever, does.

And I hold myself helpless.
Weeping and moaning over my own bull-headedness.

I've stopped bleeding but the blood
the blood is still there.
Thick coppery smell
like I always remember it.
I'll never forget it.
That the bleeding's stopped doesn't matter anymore.
I've gotten so used to all the blood I can barely recognize when it's there or not.
It's all the same now.
And my mind
is on cloud nine
raining flood waters on some blissfully ignorant, indistinct town.
I could drown all of them.

What holds me in my seat, I don't know.

My job has flown away from me.
And there's so much of it.
Like a flock of blackbirds circling a storm.

Muscle Spasms

2008-06-15T16:02:00.002+08:00

Don't ask don't tell.
You know who you are.
Let me speak and leave me be.
I have nowhere else.
I have nothing else.

Words cannot describe what's happened this week.
If it were at all possible, my body would've been cussing to eternal damnation.
As it is, it remains silent and liplocked.
But its genius has found ways to scream out its protests to me so that I can no longer ignore.

Blood seeps out of the first available crevice,
while doors that were open remain adamantly shut.
Dirty secrets creep slowly out in the open, boiling over the cracked surface.
The mirror reflects only the shit I wade through.
Paint peeling, eyes drooping.
I can't catch a break.
Caffeine has eluded me.
Sleep forever taunts me.
The weight I lost threatens to come back with a vengeance.
I have to remind myself, slap myself, to wakefulness.

WAKE UP!
WAKE UP, DAMN IT!
WAKE UP!

Take me away, take me away. Takemeawaaaaaaaaaaay.

I am so exhausted just biting down the tears screaming out of me.
All my energy's spent and I am nothing.
Would that I could not feel.
But I always feel. Too much I feel.
Like heart mass wrapped around a skeleton talking smartass.
What will it take for me to arrest? To seize
myself and quit
from too much.

My fault.
I never know when to stop myself.
I don't.
And I keep on going and going and going til my body bleeds through my ears and my head cracks from madness and my eyes pop out their sockets for lack of willingness to just hang on. "I quit!"

Help.

Saturday did me good.
More than anything else has.

I am still bleeding.
Still sleep deprived.
Still shitty.
Physically, nothing seems to have changed but me.

Don't ask don't tell.
You know who you are.
Let me speak and leave me be.
I have nowhere else.
I have nothing else.

Channeling The McBeal

2008-06-08T11:02:00.003+08:00

Don't ask don't tell.
You know who you are.
Let me speak and leave me be.
I have nowhere else.
I have nothing else.

I guess I was pissed.
Can you blame me?
It's hard being left hanging in the air. You don't really know what to do.
It's quite easy to make a fool of yourself.

At least now I know.
But not until after making a fool of myself.
But it was a conscious decision I made. I was totally willing to do it.

Was I wrong to be pissed?
I set myself up for it, didn't I?
Oh well.

I guess it's better this way anyway.
I'm completely naive that way.
Gullible, some would call it.

I was watching The Last Kiss yesterday, starring Zach Braff.
I wondered why I couldn't be like Rachel Bilson and just be altogether forward and take charge. Just go up to the guy and make him pay attention. But then towards the end, I realized I didn't want to be that girl who feeds on the weakness of men and breaks up great relationships. Even at the expense of my own love life.

“I think I need to believe that it works. Love. Couplehood. Partnership. The idea that when people come together they stay together. I have to take that with me to bed every night, even if I’m going to bed alone. That’s a McBealism”
— Ally McBeal

I love that show.
I was sad when it went off the air.
I saw a lot of myself in Ally. Minus all the sex and the short skirts. Plus a few more pounds.

Anyway, I, too, believe in the value of Love. Of a good relationship.
Especially when most people don't realize it's so hard to come by.
When they don't realize that what they have isn't necessarily Love.
That it's not even a relationship, let alone a good one.

Some people would blame my standards being set so high.
But they don't understand.
That's how much Love's worth.
More than me.

More than you?
Not if you put it before you.

Soundbytes

2008-06-07T20:49:00.002+08:00

Don't ask don't tell.
You know who you are.
Let me speak and leave me be.
I have nowhere else.
I have nothing else.

I'm a very emotional person. I can't help but show it sometimes. And sometimes I'm beside myself trying to hide all of it. A lot of times my emotions get the better of me. That's when I implode...

I admit I'm desperate. I'm desperate for someone to talk to...

Maybe that's why I write...

All of my life, I just realized, I got along best with people I had great conversations with...

The rest I just leave behind...

Surprise. I, too, can make an outstanding fool of myself...

I'm sorry I'm color blind. I can't see gray. There's black, and white, and a rainbow behind you...

A friend once said I was melancholic...

Get Shorty

2008-06-06T17:41:00.004+08:00

For too long, short films have remained the forgotten art form; a consistently underrated medium that has never been given the exposure it demands. Even with the emerging popularity of independent films in the Philippines, short films are still seen as “front acts” for full-length features or “sidebars” at local film festivals.

The Katorse Writers’ Group , a group of young writer-filmmakers who were part of Ricky Lee’s 14th Scriptwriting Workshop, addresses this problem by coming up with a full program of short films to be screened at Robinson’s Galleria Indie Sine.

On June 11-17, KATORSE SHORTS will showcase 7 short films with themes ranging from the romantic to the absurd to the tragic - a program that is meant to bring to the consciousness of Filipino audiences the short film as a form that can hold its own.

Katorse shorts line-up:

Ang Kapalaran ni Virgin Mario by Ogi Sugatan, starring Yul Servo and Forsyth Cordero
Ambulancia by Richard Legaspi, starring Alan Paule and Nor Domingo
Manyika by John Wong, starring Bor Ocampo and Sheenly Vee Gener
Puwang by Anna Isabelle Matutina, starring Elmo Redrico and Roence Santos
Dead Letter by Grace Orbon, starring Gamaliel Nicolas
Lababo by Seymour Barros-Sanchez, starring Nerissa Icot and Virnie Tolentino
Walong Linggo by Anna Isabelle Matutina, starring Joey Santos and Jaymee Joaquin

For more info: email a_isabelle78@yahoo.com

Watch the omnibus trailer at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMlVX2r-I5s

Walong Linggo trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWoqgPqQEnU
http://annaisabelle.wordpress.com/

2008-06-05T18:15:00.001+08:00

XOXO

2008-06-01T11:08:00.003+08:00

Don't ask don't tell.
You know who you are.
Let me speak and leave me be.
I have nowhere else.
I have nothing else.

I went back the way I came. I went back to see, maybe I shouldn't have.
I saw myself as I was.

I'm telling a different story from the one I penned last night. I guess I let the dark get to me.
It's different waking up to a bright new day. When did I stop being a morning person?

I caught myself today before I totally lost it. What could I do?
Why do feel that I can't tell anyone?
It isn't conceit. At least I don't think so. I hope not.
I've twisted myself inside out hoping desperately to share with someone. But would you hand someone a cup of arsenic just so you'd feel the ease of sharing the burden of your insanity? How can I do that to someone?
Or should I give them benefit of choosing for themselves? Is it presumptuous of me to think that they'd need help deciding from me? That they wouldn't be wise or maybe that they'd even appreciate this 'kind gesture' from me.

Maybe I don't give them enough credit.

This morning I woke up with the conclusion that the more you love, the more you fear.
How did I ever get to that conclusion? It's full of rubbish.
I tore myself to pieces and drove myself so far into the ground I made absolutely no sense anymore. That loving means fearing for those you love. Silly stupid.

Real love should drive away fear. Fear is no more.
Love is complete.
It leaves no room for doubt. For pause.
Even with uncertainty, love takes no breath. Because it doesn't matter.
All things and nothing is important.

With love comes faith, and hope, and freedom.
I guess that's why people say you fly 'on the wings of love'
and that 'all you need is love'.

You are good at what you do

2008-05-31T10:17:00.002+08:00

You are good at what you do
so much so you take me too.

To and fro
I let be thrown
and hold
my breath as you
You breathe my air.

Standing still, a pawn,
I take your lead.
To my folly
I break the board

and you defeat.

Backstage

2008-05-30T20:41:00.005+08:00

I love the stage.
I miss theater.
All the drama pent up inside of me found an outlet under the spotlight.
I was by no means the best. Maybe not even that good. But it was probably the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I loved it.

Here's something from one of my absolute favorite plays.
The amazing Bernadette Peters sings "Stay With Me" as the Witch in "Into The Woods". Makes me cry just watching her. You cry, too.

Home of the Brave

2008-05-30T19:33:00.002+08:00

Why does Truth scare the bejeezes out of people?
Even the bravest people I know scurry away from it tails tucked between their legs.
Something about the thick concentration of purity, integrity. It's more than daunting.
People are simply floored.
They run about senseless like headless chickens, beside themselves at weaving lie after lie til they're up to their noses in shit (bullshit to be precise) just to avoid the Truth.

I put a high premium on Truth.
But even I fall short of my own expectations.
Of Truth's expectations, truthfully.
I am awed at people who prove themselves ballsy enough to step up to plate.

Suffice it to say, the floor's stayed glossy and spotless.

Having the kind of job that I have, I often find myself eating my pride with a side order of my own words trying to be the kind of person people expect me to be. It's not a very pleasant meal to say the least. And preaching Truth on my high horse, I've had to get up to bat and take a swing at it.

It scared the bejeezes out of me.
And that's me. Miss I'm-all-about-honesty-and-straightforwardness.
It took me the better half of a year telling myself "I'm dealing with it" when I was actually eating shit. And when at last I finally couldn't take another mouthful I had to stop, screw my chicken head back on and face the music. This was it. Do or die, drowning in the stinking shit.

And so I do. I mean I did.
Amidst all the tears and the hissing and wailing, I did it. Served Truth up like a bowl of spine-tingling, blood-curdling, sweet, succulent fruit.
And it turned out not quite as bad. Not quite as horrifying or mortifying as the stomach aches and migraines built it up to be. And I couldn't understand why I felt it would be so.
But now I understand why I said so, that Truth is the bomb.

Because the Aftertruth makes so much sense. It makes everything so clear and calm and bright. Like a brilliant blue sky after the rain. It makes so much sense, I'm completely baffled at the entire complexity of getting to it.

Growing up with some of the most opinionated people ever to walk on two legs, I put a high premium on Truth.

I continue to hold on to that belief.
Despite all the hype and the greatness of ease that follows it, I still don't think I've overestimated its worth.
I think it is precisely because of that ease and the ridiculous sweat that one builds up to get it that makes it more valuable. The fact that brave men, heroes even, would cower at the very idea of telling the Truth about themselves. It's priceless.

Just Gas

2008-05-27T19:12:00.004+08:00

I think I can handle not being popular.

It doesn't seem so bad once you start to realize that
heartburn's just gas.

You still have to get rid of it, though.

It's still just gas.

Great Expectations

2008-05-26T18:47:00.002+08:00

See how I started this blog. I wanted to get outside of myself.
Because somehow it didn't seem possible anymore.

There is nothing I do more than think. I think like I breathe. With every breath comes something. Every heartbeat a thought. Every thought a heartbeat.

Not always with coherence. Not always whole.

Sometimes I can't hear myself think. When the voices in my head get to be too much. Too loud. I can't hear myself. And it's like trying to scream in a vacuum. Blinking in the dark.

Sometimes it's better to speak through someone else.
To talk in pictures and song.

And sometimes words fail me.
When there's so much to say, what can you say?

I fear the freedom.
When freedom is not witheld, one realizes its immense value. And the massive effect of its slightest quiver. How all things tumble.

I keep myself.
And many times I keep everything else.
And people say they see much of things I keep. Maybe they do.
But underneath everything else, there's still me.
Under the voices, the colors, the shadows, and the songs.

And people sometimes sense that. Them.
And the fear I keep, they hold in themselves.

Getting in isn't always a prospect they'd be willing to pursue.

Getting out isn't always up to me.

Whole In My Heart

2008-05-23T19:36:00.003+08:00

Struck to the very core of my heart, I found these words.
They rang true.
And this is what I do.
I am a teacher. This is what I do.

Only A Broken Heart is Whole http://profiles.friendster.com/3078207
Education is not a process that continues for some years and then ends. Education has only one sovereign purpose: to prepare one for more education. All else is subsidiary to this. Education should create hungers spiritual, moral, and aesthetic hungers for value.

There is a beautiful saying that comes to us from Hasidic lore: There is only one thing that is whole in the entire world, and that is a broken heart.

Reflect for a moment: Here is a world that has not yet been redeemed, a world in which there is tragedy at the root of things. How could a moral and sensitive man walk about with a heart that is not broken?

The broken-hearted paradoxically and profoundly are the whole hearted. And the task of education should be to break your heart. Unless it breaks your heart it is a false education, a pseudo-education. The gift of education will be a heart that is whole...

-Israel Knox-

The Invitation

2008-05-23T19:24:00.004+08:00

I wandered lonely as a cloud, a famous poet once said.

And I did. And I found. A good friend I didn't really get the chance to be friends with.

And I saw. And I felt. We would've been great friends.

He comes inviting. And I echo his echo posted on his page. http://profiles.friendster.com/3078207

The Invitation
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

When Life Hands You Lemons...

2008-05-18T16:17:00.010+08:00

When Eve Bites into Newton's Apple

2008-05-16T18:47:00.004+08:00

You can't tell me I didn't learn anything.
I can't stop myself even if I tried. This is what I do.

Lesson: A physical body will remain at rest, or continue to move at a constant velocity, unless an outside force acts upon it.
Learned: Ignorance was bliss. I was okay until you. And now I can't stop. Make me stop.

Lesson: To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Learned: I come, you go. You talk, I'm mum. I run, you hide. You won, I lost.

Lesson: What comes up, must come down.
Learned: Don't get my hopes up, because from where I'm standing, there's nowhere to go but down. Just give me the damn truth.

I love life, and I

2008-05-16T18:37:00.005+08:00

I love life, and I love love. Which is what makes this so hard. That I love, the ugly and thetrue. The painful and the glorious. The slow s..l..o..w..........s.....l.....o.....w.......... carefulness and the LOUD brashness. All the small things, and the great things in betwee. I love as light. Shining, upon, bouncing off and bending. Reflected but
isn't.

10 More Things I Hate About You

2008-05-13T18:06:00.005+08:00

1. You're gay. And I told you that you were gay and that's when you realized I was right. And because you're gay, you're sooo much prettier and get way more action than me.

2. We get along so well that you make me your friend, your very best friend, when you know Harry was always right about Sally.

3. You open the door for me and carry my things, then you go and hit on my friend. And I'm thinking I'm okay with it because she's such a good friend and you make her so happy til she dumps you and I stand before a door again.

4. You invade my world and make friends with my friends then parade around with your girl who nobody likes and so you check out my friend thinking she would do much better, but she's sorry because it's just waaaaaaaay too much and you're not nearly worth all THAT.

5. We talk all the time and you love to hear my voice, so you send over your girl to meet that voice you love so much.

6. You never let a day go by without telling me how the world's so fine, then you stop. And you stop. And you're gone.

7. You never call when you should.

8. You let your best friend do the talking. And she's a girl.

9. You're married. You were married the whole time.

10. And, just when I'm so certain that you're gay, you're NOT and you just fell for the girl two spaces to my right, six inches above me and about a hundred yards out of your league.

My genius II

2008-05-11T19:26:00.002+08:00

if i love You by e.e. cummings

if i love You
(thickness means
worlds inhabited by roamingly
stern bright faeries

if you love
me) distance is mind carefully
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of complete dream

if we love each (shyly)
other, what clouds do or Silently
Flowers resembles beauty
less than our breathing

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

more than anyone on the earth and i
like you better than everything in the sky

-sunlight and singing welcome your coming

although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such a darkness
noone can quite begin to guess

(except my life)the true time of year-

and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each

nearness)everyone certainly would(my
most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love

since feeling is first

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a far better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
--the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for eachother: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

My genius

2008-05-11T19:06:00.006+08:00

excerpt from Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore

"Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

When thou commandest me to sing, it seems that my heart would breakwith pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes. All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony- and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.

I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before thy presence.

I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which I could never aspire to reach.

Drunk with joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my Lord."

Here Kitty...

2008-05-11T17:39:00.003+08:00

pet peeve
-n. a particular and often continual annoyance; personal bugbear: This train service is one of my pet peeves. (Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.)
-n. (informal) something about which one frequently complains; a particular personal vexation. (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth EditionCopyright © 2006 by Houghton Mifflin Company.)

1. the misuse and abuse of the diminutive apostrophe -- don't ever take it for granted
2. arrogance in the face of obvious stupidity, I like to call this one the Pinocchio syndrome ("I'm a real boy! Can't you feel the smooth sturdiness of my stump?")
3. sweaty limbs smacking together, and trying to get them into sweaty sleeves and pantlegs
4. synthetic personalities -- I'd rather face the gruesome than suffocate in the celluloid
5. tardiness without valid excuse or forewarning
6. backing out of a commitment two seconds before
7. fashion fatalities due to over-styling, over-labeling, or going the opposite extreme stereotype
8. emo
9. chain text messages and emails
10. illogical and irreverent chirpiness
11. unwarranted invasion of personal space, this one I affectionately call the Quebral tendencies
12. rain-soaked feet in open-toed shoes or slippers
13. greasy hair
14. B movies
15. the Tyra Banks show, and the Tyra Banks eye flutter (watch out for it every elimination at ANTM)
16. sour-stale cigarette chain smoking and coffee drinking breath mix
17. green tea (tastes like grass) and jasmine tea (tastes like flowers)
18. bland coffee -- don't ever try to cheat me of my caffeine
19. mayonnaise on fruit (ewww...)
20. social climbing

*There's probably more, but I'll settle for twenty for now. Don't want to sound too whiny -- which could be another thing to add to the list. Maybe next time.

Hallelujah, My Love

2008-05-08T20:28:00.004+08:00

fare thee well, oh dreaded one

The Art of Questioning

2008-05-05T16:20:00.002+08:00

Strange how sometimes people get asked the same questions again and again. As if the entire world thought you were kidding the first hundred times you answered and totally expected you to have thought better about it now and give the kind of answer that would stop that kind of question from ever being asked of you ever.

People always ask me "May boyfriend ka na?" And while I appreciate the general tone of concern most people would adopt when asking this of me, it seems an awfully personal question to ask especially when the inquiree is usually someone I haven't seen in a gugillion years. After a quick 'hi-hello' the question is just dropped right off the bat like the h-bomb on Hiroshima. No mercy. And just like the bomb, an awkward silence follows whether it's because 'No, I don't have a boyfriend yet and I haven't had one since we last saw each other a gugillion years ago,' or 'Yes, but I never told you because it's really none of your beeswax anyway but here you go, and now I can't avoid you."

Another question I often get asked is "Talaga, you're teaching? Why?" Really now. Ow.
I happen to like my job. Even if you don't. And just because your job sucks doesn't mean you can trash others' careers with wreckless abandonment.

A frequent follow-up to that insufferably tactless enquiry is "So sure ka na d'yan? (pause for answer, then as if answer completely did not exist at all) Tatagal ka na talaga d'yan?" Oh gaaaad. I can't decide if this question's worse than the last one. And the worst is that it gets asked so damn often.

No, I can't tell what'll happen in the future. Not even an hour ahead into it (I can expect something of it, but who knows if things will really happen the way you want them an hour from now). And yes, I do enjoy my job right now but who the hell knows what can happen so stop making me feel bad about one of the few things I really love to do.

And don't you ever listen? If you don't believe me why ask if I'm soooo sure when you know you wouldn't believe any answer contrary to what's been ingrained into that remarkably dull and yet so painstaikingly tactless brain of yours?

And you, are you sure? Are you sure? Really? How do you know? For sure? For real? Are you sure? How can you be so sure? So, you're sure? You're absolutely sure? Sure?

Job hunting in the jungle called "Life"

2008-04-29T16:35:00.005+08:00

Everyone knows that in order to survive in this money-crazed-paper-pushing-newsgray world of ours one needs a job. If you want to be recognized as a citizen, you need to be able keep a job. And as furiously as you wish for a world where everybody's free from the puppet strings that hold you up and make you walk like a man, Pinocchio's gone and done that already and the fairy's just about used up her magic on silly fairy tales. So wake up and smell the smog.
At least you get paid (should get paid) for being tied up.
Now, in order to get the most out of your puppet strings one has been known to put one's self "out there". Build yourself up as the greatest wooden puppet on the shelf and you're priced much higher than the rest.
One of the best, if not THE best out there, is a quirky old guy by the name of Leonardo da Vinci. Highly inestimable, this guy can write a resume. No resume has ever been more "out there" and yet most probably true at the same time.

He writes:

"Most Illustrious Lord (Ludovico Sforza):
Having now sufficiently seen and considered the proofs of all those who count themselves masters and inventors in the instruments of war, and finding that their invention and use does not differ in any respect from those in common practice, I am emboldened … to put myself in communication with your Excellency, in order to acquaint you with my secrets. I canconstruct bridges which are very light and strong and very portable with which to pursue and defeat an enemy … I can also make a kind of cannon, which is light and easy of transport, with which to hurl small stones like hail … I can noiselessly construct to any prescribed point subterranean passages - either straight or winding - passing if necessary under trenches or a river … I can make armored wagons carrying artillery, which can break through the most serried ranks of the enemy. In time of peace, I believe I can give you as complete satisfaction as anyone else in the construction of buildings, both public and private, and in conducting water from one place to another. I can execute sculpture in bronze, marble or clay. Also, in painting, I can do as much as anyone, whoever he may be. If any of the aforesaid things should seem impossible or impractical to anyone, I offer myself as ready to make a trial of them in your park or in whatever place shall please your Excellency, to whom I commend myself with all possible humility." (Hal Gordon, The Speechwriter's Slant. October 2005. http://blog.ragan.com/archives/speechblog/2005/10/the_da_vinci_re.html )

In contrast, I leave it up to you to price this guy, I'd say probably somewhere off to the end of the shelf. In the bargain stacks, trying desperately to get sold before finally being shoved into the rubbish bin.

"WHO AM I?
I'm a theater and film addict! Fond of watching subtle movies in my room, would really like to think and enjoyed it immensely. Thinking and trying to do positive things is my way of living an optimistic outlook. It is a cozy habit better than being ripped. You never know? That I'm passionate for acting and spending most of my time learning from it. I dreamed of becoming a superb actor, it sounds bragging but no one can stop me for what i believe for. I fagged for it dude and wanted to sprout as a performer. I always passed on to my subordinates for what I have learned... It's a blessing!
Attitude?I'm a little sunk and mildly insane few months ago. The reason? ask me personally! Now quite fained, bonny and yelling for indescribable! I have this enigmatic character sometimes that people misinterpret. They thought I'm brat or in delusion mannered. Hahaha Apparently it is a big NO!!! Sophisticated for the purpose of motivation. The glimpse of truth? An artist character and yes I am a real actor but not a celebrity! hahaha My family knew how perilous am I when I'm piqued? Do not insult my intelligence it makes me pissed off or wicked! Vain? Liar? Traits that I really hates. No constancy or decency statement or a wayward one! Of course I never hates my enemy it affects my judgments. Be nice to me and I'm morally good too. I'm a vigorous person no matter how hard the adversities of life I encountered. I learned how to acquiesce defeats and failures in life as well.
Love?It brings grin on my lips! How irreparably my life has changed when love comes along my way? I know how to dispense when it comes to this sober matter. I'm not closing my door though... There is a saying goes like this "When you love too much lost everything" and i beg to disagree and impugn! Once in you it stays... I never lost at anything... The world moves for love..."

This masterpiece was seriously written for your amusement by actor Perry Escano. Seriously. Check out his multiply. Seriously.

Shame. Shame on us. And forgive us our trespasses...

2008-04-27T11:19:00.010+08:00

Attending a course on Law on Mass Media with one of the top professors of my college taught me the 'doughnut' point of view when it comes to journalism. How, staying close to a subject, one only sees the gaping hole; but upon taking a few steps back, one finds that there actually exists a sugar-coated surrounding which makes up the very meat of the issue. Personally, I think it's a particularly stupid way of thinking. The sugar-coated dough does not excuse the hole. The hole is present still, when you know you can do better without it. That is the idealism that feeds college coeds, and journalists (ideally).
At the time I didn't subscribe to it.
But then, I wasn't in college anymore. And it gradually became easier for me to just give in to the excuses rather than sticking my finger down that doughnut hole. I lost the habit of tuning in to local news, tired of the daily chaos brought about by the idiocity and arrogance of my very own countrymen. It all seemed so overwhelming when I was crashing through my own demons every minute of everyday. So.I.stopped.
I would hear about important news when it hit the international arena: CNN, BBC. Or when it got to be too much that people couldn't help but talk about it to anyone and everyone, incessantly.
That was how this bit of news got wind of me. I was so out of touch. And it sent me crashing back to the muck where I stood all this time. Oh, the horror. The pain. The shame. Heaven have mercy on us for what we do.
Absolution? Confession.
I am sorry for the things we do. For the things I did and the things I didn't do, when I should've done. I confess. I am monster like you.

(Original news item can be found in http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=f27_1208563235&p=1 )

What would you do

2008-04-24T16:32:00.003+08:00

What would you do
with a pound of flesh
or two?
a heart
a lung
would you
take it, too
they weigh not
a strand of hair. But
you,
a word
a glance
can stop a truck
and tear a bridge in half
for all it means
and dreams,
a heart
a lung.

Back to the Future

2008-04-22T19:12:00.004+08:00

How much does the future cost?

a day one day
a week sometime
five years from now

Is it worth today
and everyday?

you use it to pay
for something you don't see
you can't see

Is it worth a life
to ensure life?

tomorrow is a thing you can never have
you will never have
it is a joke
someone's played
on the unlettered optimist

a cruel joke, today is
actually tomorrow
the one you never saw
you will never see

I can smell the blood.

2008-04-19T21:48:00.003+08:00

As much as I try
to be brave
I can't.
How many people
can stand on one end of a needle?

Three nurses and a doctor.

I can't keep myself from shivering.
It's more
than just the chill of the ac.
There's nothing heartwarming
about scrubs
buzzing around your father.
Not when the stench of hemo
is on the verge
of overwhelming you.

It's like watching flies
gather around the dead.

Where is earth?
Where hides Gaea
and her warmth?

She has left
and we sit
on the glaring cold concrete.

Shelved

2008-04-17T13:36:00.004+08:00

I am a reader. And I pride myself for being a reader in the midst of a global conspiracy to wipe out all published intelligent material in favor of porn or the viral internet.

I have my preferences though, every once in a while I come across a stumbling block. The proverbial door stop of a book, if you may. And, for one reason or another, I have not been able to finish reading the following:

and even though I've had them for quite some time, I haven't gotten around to reading the following:

Maybe I've become a victim as well of that widespread illness that paralyzes one's capacity to read only the printed page. Heaven knows I can still read this pulsating page from the web. It's a conspiracy I tell you.

Friends in (other) places

2008-04-16T09:43:00.005+08:00

Vacation, for me, has always been one or the other. Either housebound or scot-free. Always. There was only this one year when I was neither and that was when I was patrolling the streets for my first job.

Last year was a good year for me. I was truly free. For the first time I was able to fly. I'd like to be completely profound and figurative about it, but it was simply the first time I got to ride a plane. Still, my imagination never failed me the whole time and I was imagining myself the companion to Icarus.

This year though, seems the tide of fate turns quite quickly and as high as I was flying before, I am now anchored in place to my house.

It hasn't been all bad though. I've always gloried in my 'alone-ness' (which is not at all the same as loneliness, mind you). My soiltude allows me to pull back myself and just be. These days I've even enjoyed playing the wholesome domestic manning the kitchen, preparing dinner and washing up. And after all that down time, I figured it was time to catch up on others as well.

The past couple of days I've been out with 'friends'.
Why can't I say that without smiling?

It was during dinner Monday when I realized the word 'friends' for me came to be a much more loose definition based on a far stronger substance. I sound insane.

Here's what happened. The 'friends' I was out having dinner with that night had asked me about my friends. Because we weren't officially friends so they were asking about those friends I was known for hanging out with. Are you following me? I sure hope so because it was around that point, as I was trying to figure out how to say that I haven't really seen those friends and that I haven't felt like a friend for quite a long time now that I realized it was all just crap. I mean the 'friendship'.

Since we all went off like little pigs out to make something of themselves in the mad mad world, we slowly lost touch. Or rather, I slowly lost touch. I let go.

As tightly as I held on to my friends back then, I just as adamantly refused to go back. I have not since gotten together with my friends unless it were some special occasion requiring an attendance, like birthdays and weddings. Whatever. They're like the family you never call except to say "Merry Christmas!" or "I'm getting married." or "I'm in jail". Except that I keep close to my family.

Looking back, I HAVE kept in touch with other people, people who were not my friends but whose company I genuinely enjoyed and sought out. They were the people of other people and other places; 'friends' who had other friends but were nevertheless true friends to me, too. I have seen more of them than my own friends.

Friends that I am now hiding from.

Being professional about it

2008-04-11T14:11:00.011+08:00

Making this world a better place takes work. And the path I've chosen to go about it demands that I be professional about it.

Today I officially took the first step towards becoming one (though, if you actually look at it, I am already way past this step as I was able to sideskirt it -- for a time -- and time's up). I went and applied for THAT exam you take to see if you've got the stuff to back up all that b***s*** you give to everybody.

It's actually not the first time I've tried to apply for THAT exam. Talk about pathetic, took me four tries before I could officially TRY to be a professional. And gaaaaaaad, I swear it almost makes me want to just up and leave the world to fend for itself. The world truly has problems.

Anyway, the positively optimistic idiot that I am, I can't just go and try for four times without picking up a nugget or two of wisdom. So here are some advice for those who are actually crazy enough to TRY and go change the world.

Things to bring on the day you file your application for THAT exam:

1) choice of portable air conditioning unit or oxygen tank to prevent suffocation from mob of applicants (I personally prefer the ac unit)

2) an identical twin to save your place in the ever growing line from here to kingdom come

3) a bodyguard to shove off "mga singit" (na mukha at amoy singit din)

4) first aid kit full of hypertension and migraine meds (believe me, you'll need it)

5) weighing scale to monitor weight loss (due to extreme perspiration from intense heat and from going up and down and up and down and up and down the f*ing stairs!)

6) water tank to replenish water loss due to extreme perspiration (it goes without saying that one must wear their best anti-perspirant deodorant for this special day of exam application)

7) Lysol or Glade air deodoriser (for we must care for our neighbors too)

8) a compass to help you find your way (the northern star doesn't come out till after dark)

9) a lengthy patience (say, Great-Wall-of-China-sized patience)

10) a big bag of crunchy cuss words (new or used, foreign languages included).

And of course, last but DEFINITELY not the least...LUCK! Bring lots of it. Grab every four-leaf clover, leprechaun, pot of gold tailing a rainbow, rabbit's tail, paw and all other extremities you can find. Because apparently people are not completely rational, and the most irrational of them rained on government offices.

PS: You will not need a watch as government offices apparently stand on their very own very personalized black holes where time and sanity do not exist. Seriously.

Anchors Away

2008-04-09T09:19:00.004+08:00

I am, at present, housebound.

Last year, I was fortunate enough to have been able to get a taste of traveling. I traveled more last year than in the last ten years combined. And now I'm housebound.

I go places in my mind. Without money, no company - just me and free.

Lives of Others

2008-04-08T09:25:00.003+08:00

There's this drama brewing in our local news right now, about high society not quite living up to its name. I don't know why I'm so affected by this drama when so many more things are troubling this country, not to mention my own personal drama to deal with.

I guess it got so very personal when somebody else actually stood back and poked a finger up our nose and we saw how desperately HORRIBLE we've become. Can't hide anymore.

I feel like joining the ruckus but at the same time, I feel so very hypocritical. How dare I empathize with a stranger hundreds of miles off when my own neighbors I can't even help (can't or won't?). Truth be told, I don't really know what to do. My sister would have me roll up my sleeves and go down to the trenches. I'm not so sure that's the place for me.

I feel uncomfortable being a spectator when something needs to be done. Years ago it would've been different. Now, I've gotten older I guess. Can't really afford to watch anymore when I now stand on two feet, pay my taxes and have my social security.

I feel uncomfortable being a spectator. But at the same time, what good will it do with me jumping in? It's not my scene even though it's happening here. And there are others in worse situations. And my own crap too.

Maybe that's it. The environment that feeds such drama. I'm part of that and I think that's where I'm supposed to act.

Catatonia

2008-04-01T16:49:00.006+08:00

Forgive me for not writing.

This is something not many understand about me. That when things get to be too much, tooo much, it's not at all easy to spit words out. Or feelings, fears, ngarrr, ngarrr, ngarrr. Lately, I've resorted to making strange noises just to cope with me heaving crap. That, or bawling. Just straight up and bawl.

There are gems to be found, once in a while, when something breaks through and a small bit of clarity, a whif of crisp fresh air allows me to speak with some degree of rationality.

This time, however, I was lost. This was how I imagined catatonia to be.

And I wanted to say so much and I had so much to say.

All the same, maybe I wasn't really meant to say anything. Maybe I was really just supposed to listen. And I don't think I did.

roman pep talk

2007-11-04T15:33:00.001+08:00

ROME NOTES, ZENIT - The World Seen From Rome
November 03, 2007

ROME, NOV. 2, 2007 - Last Sunday Benedict XVI read my mind. After a week of being trapped alone among very secular intellectuals smugly parroting anti-Catholic dogma, I passed St. Peter's Square to see an image of the newly beatified Spanish martyrs proudly emblazoned on the broad stone facade of the basilica.

"The martyrs had it easy," I thought, as I stood in the back of the square, just out of reach of Bernini's colonnade.

Laden with books and papers to prepare arguments against the mindless mudslinging of hate speech toward the Church, I envied a few short hours of witness in the arena with the lions. An afternoon of being mauled and chewed seemed preferable to a lifetime of inconclusive arguments.

Faced with the modern hypocrisy of false tolerance, where all beliefs are accepted except the "arcane and rigid" morality of Catholics, I longed for the intellectual honesty of Diocletian. The Roman emperor simply hated Christians and wanted them dead.

Stressed by the difficulty of bearing witness out in the world, and struggling to understand the best way of testifying to the truth without compromise or aggressiveness, I dreamed of the straightforward choice between the pagan idols and the executioner's sword. The martyrs always knew they had done the right thing.

A roar echoing through the piazza interrupted my moment of self-pity as Benedict XVI came to his window for the Sunday Angelus. Moving a few steps forward, I could see the tiny dot of the Pope at the window. I hoped that his blessing would fire me up to return to the fray, but Benedict XVI gave me much more.

As if privy to my inner musings, the Pope started to speak of "white martyrdom," no blood and guts, but the glory of earning one's way to heaven through "daily witness."

With terms like "heroic testimony," and "bold participation," the Holy Father presented the vocation of Christians in a different light from just attending Mass and being nice to others. He reminded us that we are called to be better than we are, to greatness.

The beauty of Christianity is that one can achieve greatness without fame or far-flung adventure. The Church recognizes the valiant endurance of men and women who bear witness to the Gospel in a world growing more overtly hostile to Christians every day.

Benedict XVI then observed that "this martyrdom of ordinary life is a particularly important witness in the secularized societies of our time." I thought he was speaking to me, but indeed, all of us have experienced these moments.

The Sunday Angelus had always seemed like a wonderful treat to see the Pope and get rosaries blessed; never before had I seen that short Sunday interval like a boxer's few moments in the corner between rounds when his trainer tends his wounds and preps him for next bout.

Standing in the embrace of St. Peter's Square, and looking up at the statues of the saints while Benedict XVI, from his window, urged me to join the cloud of witnesses, my books seemed less heavy, my battles less frightening and my path less unsure.

I started out this week feeling like Rocky, ready to fight "the peaceful battle of love."

Thank you, Holy Father.

Elizabeth Lev teaches Christian Art and Architecture at Duquesne University's Italian campus. She can be reached at lizlev@zenit.org

hable conmigo

2007-10-31T09:35:00.000+08:00

do you know that no matter how long you stare at your television, it will continue to refuse to talk to you?

i'm itching for someone to talk to. talk intelligent to. have profound conversation with.

four years of studying the brains behind the idiot box (what an oxymoron) and i still expect smart responses from it. to help myself, i've been flitting in and out of cyberspace looking for what the tv couldn't provide. and i realize they belong to the same family tree.

stupid. stupid.

people are all the same.

hiding under the pretense of something profound, they're all the same. stupid, shallow, and horny. case in point, a discussion of the mystery behind mona lisa's smile leads to allegations of leonardo's verging insanity and mona lisa's sex life. hay.

or maybe it's just me. art shouldn't have to have its boundaries, not even for the mindlessly insipid or the self-righteous hoity-toity. art should be defined by the artist with the sole condition that there be no expectations of reciprocity of appreciation from the viewing public. and so i don't respond.

and so i'm still devoid of a proper outlet, source of conversation.

the itch

2007-10-29T13:10:00.000+08:00

feeling the need to write, i have one week's worth of coffee and nap break and i can't believe i'm not using it to catch up on paperwork or even on my ages-old unfinished reading (of about ten million books that i keep buying but have yet failed to even crack open page one).

i guess with this one week's worth of coffee and nap break, i'm treating it just the way it should be treated. yes, yes. with one week's worth of coffee and napping. i am now, despite the all the availability of homestyle beverages (a.k.a. crystal clear drinking water and the ever present powdered sour-to-sweet colorful-though-not-necessarily-fruit-based juice) dehydrated because of the alarming amount of caffeine in my veins, and migraine-prone -- not to mention lethargic and restless at the same time. coffee and napping is not a good combination at all.

which is why i'm here typing up a storm.

despite my efforts at getting myself paid to write, nobody has apparently been foolish enough to take the bait. alas. it is meant to be. anyway, van gogh never made any money while he was still alive. and as with all artists, the money comes after. after life. after death.

maybe i should send them eulogies.

then again, who ever said i was a real writer anyway? i surely never did.

i'm a little apprehensive about calling myself one. as with everything i label, i have very specific standards before deciding to stamp it with my seal of approval. writer is something -- someone -- with structure as well as style. it is a conscious and deliberate art. it is a complete and deep understanding of theory and a masterful manipulation of it to create ingenuity. it is more than words. more than ideas. it is knowledge. and manipulation. and truth. and beauty. it is a person who, in cracking a nut, combines scientific mechanical knowledge and unique personal preferences -- he can either use a tool, do it by hand, seek the help of another, wait weeks or simply conclude that the job is not so much concerned with the results but rather the entire concept of struggle -- devices a most simple and unique way of doing it to reveal a most delicious pod. that is a writer.

so who is a writer? among contemporaries, i've always been a follower of gabriel garcia marquez. this despite the fact that i've only ever finished reading one book of his. but it was enough for me to conclude that he is a master.

j.r.r. tolkien is another. and as much as i am a fan of her potter books, rowling doesn't come close to tolkien's masterful weaving. this is, of course, just my opinion.

i can't think of any more.

maybe it's because i just haven't been reading enough. but maybe because truly masterful writers are rare and far in between. of course, you will find many among the classics. but they've been tried and tested by time. shakespeare, of course. j.t. salinger, rilke, shelley, dickens, austen, and so many more. who knows, maybe in a few years, the words of contemporary writers might just grow strong enough to deliver a whopping punch. maybe many of those we choose to ignore today just need to be rediscovered by fresh eyes. different eyes. different times.

maybe in a few years time someone might think it worthy enough to pay me for my lower case blubbering. won't mean i'm a writer -- at least not by my standards. but then someone will think i am. enough to pay me, thinking that others will read my work. and isn't that what writing really is?

as much as they claim that it's all about the work, the art, they can't say that it is just for private consumption. once out there, it's no longer just yours. if you wanted to keep something to yourself, keep it in your head.

so here. i am writing. not yet a writer, but there's time. one week's worth -- for now. so i am writing.

punchline

2007-10-27T18:40:00.000+08:00

A-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!! WAAAAAAAAH!!!

ahh, the internet is my new best friend -- and worst enemy. due to insistent PERSONAL demand, guess what i found out. guess. shet.

he is twenty-one. uh-huh. dazryt. yep. e-he.
ha. haha. ha-hahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!! A-HAHAHAHAHAHA-HA!!!
A-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! gad. here i go again. i crack me up!

twenty-one! HA! tsk tsk. twenty-one...tsk.

bo-hooo

2007-10-27T17:35:00.001+08:00

so...anyway...i have a crush. yee-heee. uuuyy.

yah. well. okey. tama na.

in any case, as with all crushes, the problem is making the move.
do i? should i? if, when? when, how? not to mention all the other 'what ifs' to consider:
1. what if he's involved? worse, married?
2. what if i'm not his type?
3. what if he's GAY? (nothing against gay guys, i'm all for them -- go gays! -- just that i have this painfully insane tendency to fall completely stupidly in love with them, AND THEN they come out -- or sometimes i even OUT them myself, which doesn't necessarily make things any easier for me, though maybe a little bit funnier only when things have finally blown over and you (or i) look back and think 'what the hell was i thinking?!')
4. what if i'm wrong and what if i merely imagined that cosmic connection that's been spitting sparks at me everytime we see each other? what if it's pointless, and hopeless, and oooooooohh...i dunno whatelse.
5. what if he's as dyahe as i am and if and when i make any attempt at making contact it will only be ignored, rejected, or even missed?! (ohh, the horror...)

oh yes, i see it now. just me and him, being dyahe together. sitting not quite so close. saying not quite what we want to say, not quite what's supposed to be said. trying to look but not quite too long, not too intensely. trying to smile, but not too much. he might think i'm a geek. he might look like a geek. too aware of what's not there and what's everywhere. the mundane little things that fill up the space of a second.

oh, jeez. i'm such a spaz. i'm old AND a spaz. i'm an old spaz.

eeeeeehh.

i should say something. like, 'hi!' or 'hi (his name)!' or maybe 'hey...' smart. reeeally smart. maybe 'hey, you know you never told me your name.' aaand then what? what if he still doesn't tell me his name? e-hehe. gaga.

i should stop drinking coffee. maybe i should take juice instead.
would he notice?

i hate juice. and i think he knows that.

dang. i'm such a spaz.

oooooooohh...i have such a crush on him. spaz.

ghosts

2007-10-20T21:20:00.001+08:00

roaming through old haunting grounds, ghosts rise up to greet me.

here's what i dug up.

January 12, 2007
my twenty-five cents

a friend emailed this to me. one of those things that just float around on the net, getting sent and sent and sent. till it got to me.

without knowing me, someone mapped out my life for me.

being Twenty-Something...They call it the "Quarter-life Crisis." It is when you stop going alongwith the crowd and start realizing that there are a lot of things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you do not realize is that they are realizing that too and are not really cold or catty or mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.You look at your job. It is not even close to what you thought you would be doing or maybe you are looking for one and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and are scared. You miss the comforts of college, of groups, of socializing with the same people on a constant basis. But then you realize that maybe they weren't so great after all.
You are beginning to understand yourself and what you want and do not want. Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging a bit more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and add things to your list of what is acceptable and what is not.You are insecure and then secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.
You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough to get to know better. You love someone but maybe love someone else too and cannot figure out why you are doing this because you are not a bad person.One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap and getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision.You worry about loans and money and the future and making a life for yourself and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender! What you may not realize is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.Send this to your twenty-something friends...maybe it will help someone feel like they are not alone in the state of confusion that IS our postgrad years...."The fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself... & no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, cause every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity..." - The Alchemist (P. Coelho)

i'll leave it at that.
you know what it means, you don't have to be in you're twenties to understand.
-winnifred

quarter-life crisis

2007-10-14T10:07:00.000+08:00

and so i stand at the pinnacle of a quarter century's worth of life spent in wondering wandering.

is it ever going to change? this unknowing?

being an adult doesn't give you any answers. and for some time now, i've been trying to figure out whether the people around me have any themselves. am i being silly? asking questions that lead nowhere and are hardly practical. would finding the answers help me make my deadlines, pay my bills, or take care of my family?

hardly practical, and yet they persist in the disquiet of my mind. i don't ever have quiet.

am i what i'm supposed to be? where i'm supposed to be? had i chosen door number 2, would i be happier? would i have certainty? what if i chose the wrong door? can i go back? is there a way back? where am i going?

this is what i do. my job. the reason i do it is that i believe in it and i enjoy it. but what am i DOING? am i really DOING anything? am i where i'm supposed to be? i don't know. but i make of it what i can. who knows, really. can someone else tell me where i'm supposed to be? and if they did, would i believe them? i don't know. probably not.

is this what i'm supposed to be? what i'll always be? what i'm supposed to be -- is someone i'd be proud to be if i weren't me. is someone i would, and others would, love. yes. i think i am. love. and hate.

is there a way back? probably not. so why even ask?

where am i going?
i don't know.

are we supposed to know? what if we never were meant to know? then, i just wasted an entire post pondering a pointless point.

and what if we were?

could we know?

do others know? does anyone? because i don't.
but it doesn't stop me from asking. it hasn't stopped me from asking. and so i keep asking.

stranger than fiction

2007-10-07T17:46:00.000+08:00

turns out, things on tv aren't really what they appear to be.

and so maybe you just have to tune out sometimes to avoid driving yourself insane with all that white noise.

not today

2007-10-06T17:18:00.000+08:00

tell me how much it hurts.

is it bad that i can't stand my family? and i love them so much.

and i creep into my head and i cringe and twist and turn into myself until i can't recognize and breathe anymore. and they're there. and i can't stand it and why i love it.

i want nothing more than to run away. build a new life in a new world. none of here in there. and nothing holding on to me.
my memory would be erased and i would have nothing. and lose nothing.
and living would just be that, living.
breathing would just be that.
dancing would be dancing.
and laughing would be laughing.
no ties. no loss. no wanting. no shame.

i want to run away. because then i would be lost.
and right now, being lost means more to me than being here.

someday. when i finally lose. i'm going to want getting back.

not today.

1007

2007-10-06T17:03:00.000+08:00

as a rule, birthdays, i think should be spent alone.

make time for dinner with friends and getting wasted on your couch. awkward happy birthdays and big family feasts. but the day itself should be reserved for you. you alone.

contemplate the many things you've gone through. the good you've done and the good you've thrown away. and all the mistakes you wanted to make and all the lessons you never quite understood.

this is what i've done.

today is a joke. physically almost not quite perfect. feeling most awkwardly worse. it feels stupid that my own birthday has to give way to a family "thing". most decidedly stupid, especially when the organizer of this "thing" isn't even attending.
it feels stupid that i'm here celebrating my birthday a day early. not by choice.
which is exactly what birthdays are for. choices.

i could've wished to celebrate early.

instead, my family's all gathered a day early because tomorrow, MY BIRTHDAY, will be spent for something else. and because tomorrow, MY BIRTHDAY, nobody can make it. and so i have to spend tomorrow, MY BIRTHDAY, celebrating something else. and i will, most likely, most DEFINITELY doing it alone. because nobody will make it.

and it brings back high school with a bang. except they did make it. sick and all. lost in a town they've never been. and they made it.

and i'm being very selfish. it is a time of recognizing, and sharing one's blessings.

OK. i get that. so let me.

it would've been better to be left alone now, i think. i don't quite understand.

wearing everest

2007-09-05T14:25:00.001+08:00

this would probably be the closest i would get to everest.

when they asked for someone to volunteer to model noelle's gear, yeah,

i couldn't help myself.

so what if she wore it for three whole no-bath months?

and that it hadn't been cleaned?

yeah, i'm a total nerd.

come on.

i look totally cool

(and yet sweating profusely inside that massive suit at the same time).

IDOL KO TOH!
geek.

i'm oh so hooooot!

astig talaga!

PINAY ROCKS!

2007-09-04T20:27:00.001+08:00

i just met the greatest pinay.

noelle wenceslao rocks! i swear. ay-dol!

figures. that celebs like comedian extraordinaire michael v and male model/reality tv star bruce "almighty" don't stir up the faintest bit of excitement in me. no. you'd have to scale mount everest before i even think of sparing you the slightest glance.

this girl, this "maliit na mama" (as in bitoy) as one colleague mistakenly but oh so hilariously calls her, reeeally and trrrrruuuuly makes my jaw drop.

thing is, no one ever takes the movies seriously. even i, as much as i breathe them, know that cris o' donnel's baby blues are enough to get him over the mountain, save his sister and save the day. that all the white stuff they're walking on is simply shredded paper -- or, i dunno, potato. but this girl. you see her. and she tells you her story with the widest brightest smile but she slams you with the straightforward barenekked truth. it wasn't a movie set. going up, she wanted nothing more than to go back down (that is, nothing more than reaching the top). she gagged at the sight of food, never thought about the fact that her last bath was months ago, and she and her team are sweating and freezing at the same time, on top of BEING A GIRL.

and she is. and that's what makes it so great.

because as much as i puff up my chest and declare myself capable of trampling a guy to death, i have never really thought of girls achieving great things. momentous, carve-in-stone kind of feats. i mean, girls are great. guys would never make it without us. strong, smart, wise. but climb the highest peak in the entire freaking world kind of great? that kind of strong. and smart. and wise. leaves me gaga.

if it were a guy, it would be no strange thing for me. that's what they're supposed to be doing after all. carrying heavy luggage and not taking baths and trudging up mountains. i'd probably even calmly and quite casually flick it off as some feat of vanity. to conquer something great.

but a girl. a woman does it. it lays a whole new meaning for me. not vanity (are you nuts?! not taking a bath?!). not ordinary.

strength. of will. of mind. of body. strength of woman. not looking in. now opening her arms to encompass everything else. large enough to even conquer mountains.

noelle and her teammates, janet belarmino and carina dayondon, are woman.

idol mare.

how i met your...er

2007-08-17T11:33:00.000+08:00

a friend gets engaged. yes, it does make you...want.

to act.

on things.

sophomore summer at the beach house. we were lunchtime regulars. till two, we'd stay talking to our hearts' discontent. her oath, to be with The First And The Last. mine, to be with The One. she was willing to wait. i was willing to miss.

now, she's found The One. and i'm on the quest to find The First And The Last.

ticking

2007-08-10T09:16:00.000+08:00

i haven't had to go to work for the third day in a row.

i haven't spent this much time at home since...i can't remember.
it's forcing me to think. to look back. making me want. more than anything. "i won't, i won't worry my life away," mr. a-z sings to me.

oi! followed by john, paul, george, and ringo crooning "in my-yyy life".

lately, i've begun wondering if i'm slowly burning out. i've heard it said repeatedly that young people these days burn out so very easily too easily. and in spite of my three free days, so far, i haven't finished this batch of paperwork that's been with me for a little more than a month. i haven't been able to touch it due to my alarming stress levels. and now...i don't really want to touch it.

i want to get out my pencils and sketch pad. i want to go out to a museum and wallow away the time immersed in art. i want to go out drinking with friends. dancing. i want to go out on a date. i want to go back. and i can't believe i'm twenty-four and thinking, feeling this way. i'm old but i'm not. i'm more juvenile than most people think me to be.

i jumped at the radio announcement of class suspensions due to severe weather conditions. i felt like a student again. i stewed in front of the tv and ate most of the chocolate in the fridge. i'm dreaming. and i'm breeding -- all my insecurities resurfacing. i feel like a student again. i guess i haven't really grown up yet.

i read once that the world has no use for dreamers. for they waste their time losing themselves in dreams that do not materialize and forgetting about everything else that really matters. things that are here. that are real.

the argument sounds quite logical. but i've never really quite understood it.

breaking up is hard to do

2007-08-04T09:31:00.000+08:00

a few minutes is all i need, to look back. snap.

i don't think i'm cut out for this. i feel the hate boiling over. i feel vomit at the back of my throat, ready to hurl itself on every single inconceivable thing nosing itself on my personal sanity. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!

does it even matter that my hair is turning white or that i no longer see where i'm going and i'm bumping into walls and doors and friends become strangers with strange faces swimming in the colors of everything that surrounds us and i'm dying. I'M DY-ING. I'M DYING!!!

is it okay to give up now?

i can't speak, i can't think. i can't be alone and i can't.

where does superman go when the troubles of this world seem too much for him? when all things seem unending? where does batman hide when his fears threaten to engulf him? does invisible man feel safe in his invisibility? or does it breed insecurity? are they allowed to pull out their hair and screeeam their lungs out? are they allowed to lash out, to cry, and to try to escape it all? and when they can't, are they allowed to curl up into a ball, whimpering, and sucking on their thumbs?

i am flying. and my mind has gone away from me. to where, it will never tell me. and all things must go.