Friday, November 25, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Ang lamig sa labas.
Parang ang puso ko
It's a dark Tuesday Morning. Rainy and cold second day of the work week. The feverish princess needs to beat the deadlines at work.
I am craving for Ma's Binondo Mami.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Democracy destroys itself because it abuses its right to freedom and equality. Because it teaches its citizens to consider audacity as a right, lawlessness as a freedom, abrasive speech as equality, and anarchy as progress. – Robert Fulghum
Oh btw, I’m excited to see ex-PGMA’s mugshot. Lol. Karma’s a bitch.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
I was on a bus Tuesday morning bound to cubao. Everybody becomes generic after some time, lifting the feet on the doorsteps, choosing where to sit, and the estrangement of profound sorts while the passing of the views outside the window blend into a blur. My brain, running loose and free, is neutralizing the effects of being sleep-deprived the night before and the squirming away from some uncomfortable distress brought a super low-temperature aircon.
There are just too many variables that make a commuter's life very vivid and exciting. There's this woman behind me who talks loudly on her mobile, nonstop, from Cabuyao to Cubao. I alternate between calm anticipation of her cellphone battery draining to the fullest and an inordinate fear that she would have a back-up phone should the cells in the battery gave up. Predictability and comfort are valid human longings. I just want to snap a light nap to cobble up myself before i got off the bus. But lo and behold, she seems perennially engaged in herself that she no longer mind the people around her, having no choice but to shoo away from our ears all the unwanted conversation she is having on the phone. Our country is in complete shambles, and here is a woman, a self-absorbed one who chose to plug herself in the barrage of all the passengers' disappointments.
In a bus bound south, i happen to sit beside a man in a three-seater behind the driver. He was sitting beside the window, above him is the aircon adjustment knob, to which, i immediately adjusted in my direction to counter the high temperature surroundings. I nearly fainted as i sit, having smelled the foul odor oozing from his armpit. Adding insult to injury, i just wished i am dead at that moment when i learned of his stinkin' breath after cracking a conversation with the driver. (So friends pala sila) I transferred to the empty two-seater across, and heaven has no beauty than a comfortable seat while traveling.
An old woman sat beside me after a stop. She adjusted the aircon knob above me, looked at me, and smiled at me. I smiled back, to give her due respect. She then untied a plastic, grope for a fork, opened a transparent bowl of sliced fruits, and offered me to partake of her meal. "Neng, kain tayo." She slightly held the bowl close to my lap. I could have grabbed her fork and picked a sliced pineapple having eyed the same bowl when i passed the supermarket an hour ago. But instead, i offered back a smile and thanked her. "Salamat po 'nay,busog pa po ako," I answered back, as i gestured to return the bowl in her lap. My heart tumbled with a love that i cannot explain. For hours i feel that the world is a fine place to be. Whatever troubles of the day i had experienced had been forgotten and put on perspective by the kind-hearted and generous old woman who sat beside me and offered me her food.
Life is so magnificently larger and broader in scope, in fact, it defies the word scope itself. As one can always find beauty in the ugliest situation, the ultimate context of life being larger and broader in scope makes any other sub context pitifully miniscule. So miniscule as the loud-talking woman behind and the foul-smelling man beside me, to a broader context of kindness in the form of the old and generous woman whose physical attributes had been withered by time, but managed to keep a heart so big to wholeheartedly share to anyone she barely know.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I'll just bear the silence and ignorance, and pretend that i am good.
Who knows, maybe tomorrow, i'll be able to smile again.
I just wished.
Rejoicing over a three-star feat on Angry Birds Seasons' Ham'o'ween. This is kind of late, soap operas had taken the better of me. lol.
Amidst being shut and being taken for granted, it's the simple private pleasures that make a day go light and right.
It is the absence of something that makes the presence of something a matter of delight and worthy of note – Robert Fulghum
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Silence is so demeaning you just wished you didn't exist.
Silence is what rubs salt on the wounds.
Silence is power at the highest intensity in its still state.
Here again. Oh the cold rainy days of the approaching holidays.
The coldness felt from the outside of the car seeping through the soul deep within.
I just wished someone would care enough to give me some warmth.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Thought for today:
You don’t give me flowers anymore.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
THE RIGHT TO A ONE AND ONLY
By Robert Fulghum
It is a credible statistical probability that somewhere among the billions of human beings on Earth there is one person more compatible as a life companion for each one of us than any other.
Reasonable men and women would not argue.
“Right,” we say, “So where’s mine? My soul-mate?”
About 2,400 years ago Plato wrote The Symposium as a rational exploration of love. In his account of a banquet held in honor of Eros, Plato has Aristophanes relate the fable about Zeus dividing the first human beings in half because he was threatened by their power. Forever after, Aristophanes asserts, each person has longed to be reunited with that missing half in order to feel whole again. This yearning for completion is called love. Even Socrates, who was present at the banquet, could not poke enough holes in the idea to sink it. And so, as fairy tales say, it has been to this very day.
However. The odds against any one person finding their perfectly matched exact companion is so statistically improbable that to build one’s hopes on that is like expecting that you will meet Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in the supermarket this afternoon.
Even less likely is the possibility that Snow White would be expecting you. Or that her Prince would be in the next aisle over. Or that the Dwarfs would fit into your plans.
Yet the Romantic Fallacy that one will win Destiny’s Lottery is so powerful that the Coast of Love is littered with the wrecks of the starry-eyed mariners who steer their ships onto its rocks, lured by the siren-song of the One and Only. “Here I am. Come and get it,” they sing.
The shallows of Romantic Fallacy become the deep seas of Romantic Fatalism. A good way to drown.
The hollow longing of those whose experience finally convinces them that they have not and will not ever find the Right One is filled with the sweet sorrow of feeling that they have missed a safe landing on Paradise Island by the smallest miscalculation; a vexing kink in the Thread of Chance. “If only . . .” are the first and last words of this lament.
He or She may have been on the next bus; on a previous train; five minutes late; three rows down; in an accident on the way; delayed by rain; or home with the flu that night of the party.
These relentless-but-unfulfilled yearnings shrink our minds to raisins.
We wait. Wait. Wait for love.
And tired of waiting, we go looking. Searching for love. For the One.
To improve the odds in their favor, modern men and women resort to the world-wide-web, personals ads, dating services and singles groups. Most poignant are the “I Saw You” columns. Asking, “Did you see me?” The Girl who glanced at me getting off the ferry. The Man in the red pickup truck at the traffic light. The wrong number phone call that sounded so promising. Somebody else’s blind date. The woman sorting through tomatoes in the salad-bar of the supermarket. The guy leaving the coffee shop last Friday. The distant figure at the rail of a passing ship.
Pulse pounding from the provocative possibility, we implore:
“Did you see me?”
No. No. They weren’t looking for you.
Hide and seek and hide and seek and hide and seek . . .
If waiting does not pay off, and searching does not pay off, What . . . ?
We make do. Take the pick of the litter available. Concede and compromise. Her or him as well as another. In a mood of Now-or-Never, and determined to turn Better-Than-Nothing into As-Good-As-Can-Be-Expected, we act with gritty determination to make acceptable what is only an inadequate substitute for the Man or Woman of Our Dreams.
Sometimes it actually works out pretty well. Sometimes. But even the best the statistical odds are 50-50. Heads or tails. Call it. Never a sure thing, but a chance we take because we believe in a Love that can overcome anything, despite repeated and ongoing evidence to the contrary.
But suppose. Just suppose. That once in a lifetime the person most suitable for you appears. How will you know? How will they know? What’s the secret sign? And what if it happens on a bad day, when you are hung over or have a cold or they went out of their house in their shabbiest clothes just to get milk? Will you still know, no matter what?
Would a committee of ten thousand wise elders, psychologists, marriage counselors, and frenzied family and friends be any help? Or is Destiny strong enough to overcome any and all obstacles?
Even more important is this consideration:
Would you expect to recognize the One instantly? Love at first sight?
Or would you know only after a life-long companionship?
Is Big Love made in Heaven or lived into on Earth?
And since living with another person is always a tidal matter of the ebb and flow of good and bad, workable and unworkable, seasons and times and weather, age and chance, who can ever say for certain, at the beginning, the end, or in the middle: This was the One?
SO… ASAN NA NGA SI THE ONE?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
With two vultures at the back, i need to strategize for my survival. I need to gather evidences of their delinquencies for future references. bwahahaha.
Seriously, i need a breather.
We meet people, and fall in love, and when we part they leave marks for us to remember them by. Our lovers sculpt us; they define us, for better or worse. Like a pinball, we slam into them and rebound in our different directions, propelled by the contact, and after the parting we might be scared, stronger or more fragile, or needy, or angry, or guilty, but never unchanged. Our lovers linger inside us, like ghosts, haunting the corridors and deserted rooms, sometimes whispering, sometimes screaming, but always there, waiting...
-from ate kimi’s fb stat J
Monday, November 7, 2011
What brings them to do this? What have i done to deserve this? I am just a lady engineer working hard as a man in this male dominated metal forging company. I have come to accept that no matter how hard i work, they will always opt me out for promotion, just because of their gender-biased beliefs. I had none the muck of any repulsion, instead, i worked thrice as hard to elevate my simple desires into poignant, quixotic and quite impossible dreams. Does seeing an employee working hard as a carabao all for the sake of the company irk them the most they felt the need to plot out a demolition job to see the person plummet to rock bottom? I do not know how expanse the hell had migrated into their idle minds to even dispel the stench of their adult-greediness. I used to be their own pet, but i never needed them to goad me to be results-driven and goal-oriented. All came as second nature to me. So if they do want their new pets to be noticed, they must kick their ass and plead them to work more than thrice as hard as i did.
But just how much of my destruction do they still need to be satiated? They have already stripped me off so many things, they have relieved me from various positions i have held. Talk about the grimmest things one does to kill a reputation, to steal self-worth and to destroy a soul. I stand indicted before such a sight, and feel even more heart-stricken.
My detractors have gotten so frustrated they needed to act beyond their professional ethics in order to destroy the only thing left on me: the trust from other bosses and fellow workmates that i have earned in my entire years of service. By dint of pluck and luck, hustling and bravado, and strengthened relationships i have forged with my co-workers, i believe that i will be able to overcome the hell that they have caused.
Hell Yeah. I will.
It's an everyday struggle. The Japanese bosses are so determined to pin me down. :'( Makes me wanna explode into a deadly infectious virus that could seep through their souls.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
I watched yesterday the video of a friend's marriage proposal to his girl. Nothing fancy, it was an inset in a get-together of my group of friends in the dessert. The girl was crying, happy and surprised in equal measure. It was something worth watching again and again, the drama, the cheers and jeers, and the love that was oozing deep within. Aaahhh love. love. love.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
I believe no one ever gets used to pain. It's just pretending you are already numb to it, much less than getting affected by the sheer resemblance of getting one's wound pricked. It's always an OUCH. But not oftentimes a scream or a facial warp.
I never got used to having my central blood pumping station broken. Each blow is different, each brings pain i know i am not capable of hiding. No matter what diversions i made to elicit dementia from the point of hurt avenue, the ouch still hollers and flogs me off the butt.
How can love be so fulfilling yet be so devastating the moment it refuses to flow? It's more than a million OUCH.
I was up earlier for a whole day of household chores. My day started with prayers for my mom and other loved ones. Went to the market to buy goods to cook and groceries. Spin the clothes in the rotating monster, cleaned the cabinet for kitchen wares. It took me the whole day to clean the shelves, wash the kitchen wares, dry, and arrange inside again. Had boiled banana for energy fusion. When my body wore down in the middle of the day, i took a pit stop to my bed and watched Transformers Dark of the Moon. After which i cooked nilagang tilapia for dinner. Then I arranged the pile of clothes that i have washed a day before. Arranged the groceries, cleaned the ref, and removed the dirt and dust in the house. It was a very productive day.
I used to wonder how mothers could spent their whole day in the kitchen doing stuffs. And now i understand that even 24hours isn't enough to spring clean just a nook in the hut. How more difficult it would be for a mom if she has children running here and there asking for this and that, husband requesting things and other foreign disturbances inherent in a typical mother's day. Oh my salute goes to all the mothers who are very much willing to get exhausted for her family's comfort.
Yesterday, cleaning my mom's kitchen wares made a lot of sense. It's not just all about keeping her things tidy, but sanctifying her remnants, the memories. Living all alone on my own, i dearly miss my mom who would take the extra mile just to bring me comfort. Deym.
I wish to do this again. Tire myself out so all i could feel is the weariness of my physical body and not the sadness in my heart and soul.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011