Let Me Not Die While I Am Still Alive

For a while I had been functioning as the rational being in the most logical sense. Everything I did and thought was governed with reason. To sum it up in the most (non)intelligent way, I existed using my brain.

A part of me was switched off. A part of me felt numbed, dormant, still, waiting to be resuscitated back to life. And I didn't know how to do it, I didn't how to turn the zest on. Like those moments when emotions overtook all reasons, the realization that life lived all out with reason alone was also paralyzing, it threw me into panic. Shit! Where did my heart go?

It was not the life I wanted, the half-dead. It's not the life I bargained for when I chose to live my every day. Pain is pain, but it feels so much better than being numbed. It at least offers me options for growth and discoveries and experiments. While numbness, it's a linear highway to death, everything is colored in monotonous black or white. Hello, Pleasantville!

I want color. I want chaos. I want a roller coaster ride. I complain, yes, and crave peace when it feels like my world is turned upside down. But I can manage to ride with the peaks and troughs in the series of life's crests better than gliding on the flat line of deadness inside.

Numbness only serves its purpose for a little while, when we're too damn tired to deal with the pain and worries. We're designed to live and getting out of it is a choice and it entails hardwork to thaw away the ice that frozen our heart. We're designed to live and not just exist. 

Let me not die while I am still alive. It's Hannah's prayer when she was depressed being childless and being constantly ridiculed for it. She refused to let her spirit die. Sheryl Sandberg also reminded herself of that powerful line to go on living after her husband died. And I am adapting it, to push myself to seek the essentials of what makes life worth living.

Whenever I feel my head floating and my heart sinking, I remember this phrase. Whenever I feel I'm switching on auto-pilot, I let the words ring in my head. To wake up what's sleeping in me, to pinch that part of my soul that hardened, to guide me in finding ways, any ways, to help me blow air into my own life raft. Trust me when I say, we have that power within us that knows what we ought to do and recognizing the internal disengagement is a breakthrough. If you find yourself in that cold boat, row, darlings. Row to where the sunshine is. Light that fire within you to guide and show you where you are going. Don't waste your everyday isolated in that numb, cold and dark world.

I'll leave this quote from Albert Camus:In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invisible summer. The seed to life is always within you. For God is within you.

On Love

If love has a manual to follow, maybe we would not be at our wits’ end, deciphering every gesture, every word, and every nuance. If love is set, we would not worry our heart dropping to the ground at every turn with its uncertainties. If love has a map, maybe no one will fear the unfamiliar, inconvenience and unconventional it is notoriously known of. But maybe, all that makes love compelling; it is both the magic we desire and danger we repel.

 ~O~

Love has no clear and distinct definition. Its definition is inexhaustible, with varying connotations to different people. What we know of it is guided by its execution. It can feel/look/sound like an act ordained by the divine, or it becomes a distorted truth corollary of a devious game. It can be ideal with fluffy clouds, rainbows, and butterflies, or it can be raw, honest, and brutal, labored with real grit.

 ~O~

Believe and seek the higher love; the love that seeks for the higher good, the love that does not play games, the love referred to by Paul in his letter to the Corinthians, the love that fuqing hurts because it is real, the love that is faithful to the truth, the love that shines because it is pure, the love that conquers wickedness, the love that defeats bitterness and cures indifference. Love is not a weakness, but a power – an emancipation chosen and acted upon by REAL men and women.

Some Kind Of Explanation For The Slack In This Blog

I don't know where or how to begin. Few days of not being able to post an entry here thrown me into some kind of vortex, where every space was filled with thoughts of events and emotions, too many in fact, that I'm having a hard time collating them according to their respective subject. There was my obligatory (lol) New Year's resolution listicle, the part two of Cebu City's photo blog, which I guess I just have to do next year, if I will be in the country, because... I spent few days in another island in Mindanao [right after I got back in Cebu from Southern Leyte] because my grandfather died, and yes, there are pervading thoughts of death with the people around me getting older and dying.

Lots of one day. For resolutions. For plans. Some never get to see the light of day. Some were set into motion, Some ended the way they should be. Some just have to be halted/suspended because of diversions, or some things need immediate priorities than the others. With all the things that happened and did not not happen, I always have this first thought of: Where do I stand in all this?

I don't want to make a big drama out of the ordinary (but I do find magic in the ordinary). Maybe I have come to accept the realities of life: the miracle of birth and inevitable death, the joy of winning and the sting of losing/failing, the magic in falling in love and the torture of its end, the highs of creativity and necessity of slacking, the yin and yang of all things that spiced up our lives. Sometimes acceptance pushes you to go through every emotion and be in the moment, no matter how painful it is. Sometimes it allows you to be "removed" and become a distant observer of the drama in your life, watching them like strips of film rolling out before your eyes, with you separating the good memories (to be fondly reminisced in the growing years) from the bad hard ones (they are always the origin of one's evolution;suffering, therefore, is necessary...as reiterated by Nietzsche).

There are some journeys in life one has to make alone. There are stories of which, details do not need to be told. One day at a time, one has to make peace of the things that had been and the things that did not become and one day at a time, one has to move on for the great things that will be. Maybe one day, the stories will unfurl naturally, one blog entry at a time. For now, I apologize for slacking in my blog. I will get back on track in due time.

The Mishaps In The Christmas Kitchen

A rather late post, because I was in the island for the holiday. There, it's a struggle to connect to the internet. I couldn't walk around the house with  my phone. It has to be strategically placed near windows on strategic parts of the house to get a better signal. Every blog entry I wanted to post was "patiently" on hold, because I could only connect - with limits - from my phone. In short, I could only read the stuff here and of the other sites, but quite a frustration to post an entry.

Anyway, one of the things I look forward on Christmas season is the getting together and doing things together part. From putting up the Christmas decors to cooking in the kitchen, then of course the best part of all, eating together. Lol.

This year, I was not able to help put up the Christmas decors at home in the province because I was in the city. The apartment in the city is also home, but we do not decorate it like we do in the family home and the only thing that represents the season are two Santa Claus figurines standing near the TV monitor on the cabinet. On special holidays like Christmas and New Year, we always go home to be with our parents, if the circumstances (e.g. weather and proximity [well, if we're in the country]) allow us.

Except for my brother who stayed in Cebu City because he had to work on Christmas day, all of us at home were doing our part in the kitchen the day before Christmas (that is when the magic in the kitchen happens). When you put people in a small area, on a fine busy day, with lots of things to do, temper could flare up. However, we have rule on times like this. To just “chill”, whatever happens. It is actually a rule initiated to keep my mother’s short temper under control (everyone who's aging, no matter how gracefully, are ultra sensitive to things, so...). As we were preparing the food for the Christmas feast, the rule came in handy to rein emotions (lol) when the following mishaps took place in the kitchen:

1.)    I managed to break the fiberglass chopping board while I cut the chicken bone with the force I exerted. The huge knife was somewhat heavy and the chicken bone was a little willful and did not want to be severed (lol). The chopping board were shattered into hundred shards, but thankfully they were not as fine and as scattered like the ordinary glass do when it breaks. However, I got so paranoid of the sting in my right eye after I broke it that I rushed upstairs to check in the mirror for any shard poking my eyeball. While climbing the staircase I was thinking, “If a broken glass flew in my eye, surely, it’s already bleeding by now, right?” That usually happens in movies, you know. You cannot fault me for thinking that. Lol.

2.)    I got too excited to cut the chicken parts that I also did the other chicken that was supposed to be grilled in the turbo broiler. There were two whole chickens. My sister, Moonyeen, cut the breast of the first one to be poached for the chicken macaroni salad and I cut the rest of the parts of the first one (thinking we will have breaded chickens) and did the other chicken. My mom was aghast with what I did. Well, she did not say in advance what the chickens were for! 

3.) Uh, the chicken macaroni salad...the pasta sort of looked inferior from too much mixing. The ingredients were put on installment instead of putting it one time, thus the pasta were torn by the grinding of the ladles. 

4.)    My sister, Kim, forgot to peel the skin of the peanuts before crushing them with mortar and pestle. The peanuts were used as garnish for my mom’s recipe, the Fresh Lumpia, to be served for the priests’ (who officiated the Christmas eve’s) dinner. I am not sure if the priests, and whoever ate the lumpias, noticed the unwanted peanut skin. I swear we tried straining it to save my sister’s skin (pun intended!) – a futile effort. My mom’s face crumpled, when my sister confessed her crime with a guilty grin. The crushed peanuts (let us not forget the skin) became one of those do-with-what-becomes-of-what-you-have stuffs.

5.) Because my mom hadn't made Fresh Lumpia for a long time and she's one cook who estimates measurement, she kind of messed up the wrapper and wasted a portion of the mixture from doing trial-and-error. I also have to blame the pan she used, it did not have a flat bottom. But, you make do of what you have, right?

6.)    My sister, Rikka, prematurely took the baked cake out from the oven. Wondering why it did not come out from the pan as she tried to turn it over the baking sheet, she poked the center with a knife and found it runny and uncooked. Like a lightning bolt, she quickly returned the cake in the oven before my mom could return to the kitchen. Our oven has no timer, so we keep track of the baking time and peek the look of whatever is baking through the glass door of the oven. Rikka was mesmerized with the beautiful brown cake with the top rising that she forgot something: looks can be deceiving!

7.)    My father flooded the tiled kitchen counter with oil. He accidentally swung his hand at the jar that contained the oil.

8.)    Because Rikka was so into frosting the cake ( a spur-of-the-moment thing supported by my other siblings and I because we like the fancy sound of it), but we had no whipping cream at home, so she whipped two tetra packs of frozen all purpose cream with lots of icing sugar. The mixture never hardened even until we set up the table for the midnight feast. BUT, as ingenious as always, she and Moonyeen thought of ways to have the Christmas color we wanted with the help of icing sugar and jelly candies (see the above picture!) What happened to the cream mixture? It hardened on time for Christmas day, looked and tasted like ice cream, that the slices of chiffon cake were topped off with it! But with the icing sugar in the mixture...too sweet for me. 

No flying pans. No angry words. Although we encountered some concerns in the kitchen, they did not ruin our Christmas. On the other hand, they made the Christmas 2015 more unforgettable, because we could look back at it with amusement. Also, we're grown-ups, but doing stuff in the kitchen on Christmas eve, we're all like kids again, bursting with excitement and prone to committing mistakes (lol). So, nope, the mishaps did not sound bad, they added color to the holiday, and they become part of the stories that will be served on the table for the years to come. 

All in all, though incomplete without my brother, it was a merry Christmas indeed! AND, I wish you had a lovely holiday from your side of the world. :)

Maybe I Like Being Human

Maybe I like being a little broken, with some parts of me slowly mending, while other parts are waiting for their sunshine. Maybe I like picking up the pieces, finding the right parts to fit into the jagged ones. Maybe I like the fragments that sum me up. Maybe I like being flawed, disfigured, imperfect.

Maybe I like the discomforts. Maybe I like the insanity, the chaos, the uncertainty of existing. Maybe I am perverse. Maybe I am abnormal. Maybe I am anomalous. Maybe I like my own warped reason. Maybe I like being the odd. The strange. The inimitable. Maybe I like being simple. Maybe I like being complicated. Maybe I like going through the phases. Maybe I like the cycle of it.

Maybe I like the gloominess. Maybe I like groping in the dark. Maybe I like the breaking of dawn. Maybe I like braving the raging storm. Maybe I like controlling the broken wheel. Maybe I like the wrench in the gut. Maybe I like smoothing my knotted innards. Maybe I like the slowness of the process.

Maybe I like the struggles. Maybe I like pulling my messy hair. Maybe I like sinking my nails in the mud. Maybe I like crawling with my hands and knees on rocks, on hard floors, on walls. Maybe I like banging my head on the wall, or burying them in the sand. Maybe I like the battle. Maybe I like being scarred.

Maybe I like beating the odds. Maybe I like the power of bearing the inconvenience. Maybe I like the adrenaline high from jumping over the hurdles. Maybe I like the challenge of putting my puzzles together. Maybe I like the breakthroughs.

Maybe I like being stationary. Maybe I like pushing my limits. Maybe I like conventional. Maybe I like surprises. Maybe I like being in control. Maybe I like being stirred. Maybe I like docility. Maybe I like running wild free. Maybe I like being a sinner. Maybe I like living with a virtue.

Maybe I like being alone. Maybe I like walking in the crowd. Maybe I like to get what I see. Maybe I like the madness of second-guessing. Maybe I like monotony. Maybe I like the roller coaster ride. Maybe I like banalities. Maybe I like novelties.

Maybe I like being funny. Maybe I like the sarcasm. Maybe I like being silly. Maybe I like being proper. Maybe I like being emotional. Maybe I like being unfazed.

Maybe I like to tear me apart. Maybe I like the death of who I was. Maybe I like to mold me. Maybe I like to recreate me. Maybe I like the agony of my rebirth. Maybe I like the multiplicity in me. Maybe I like spreading myself. Maybe I like making me whole. Maybe I like boxing myself in. Maybe I like to let loose. Maybe I like being on the ground. Maybe I like to fly. Maybe I like being home. Maybe I like being out in the world.

Maybe I like being consistent. Maybe I like being a paradox. Maybe I like the black holes in my existence. Maybe I like the explosion of my inner universe. Maybe I like my own perfectly imperfect world. Maybe I like being human. Maybe, I like it excessively. 

The Universe Is In You, In Us

The big bang theory was based on the idea that at some point in time, a matter exploded to create the universe and it continues to expand. There is also the idea that like everything else observable that reaches its edge, the universe could suffer the same feat. The universe would collapse. Everything would just be vacuum back to where it began in one big whoosh, which the Physicists theorized as the big crunch. [OR – other possible scenarios according to moi- the gravity that holds everything together would be loose and everything becomes a chaos of bouncing matters, colliding against each other, or everything just stops there at that moment and drops to nothingness. ]

It was during this discussion that my Physics teacher brought up Retin-A, you know, the anti-aging treatment cream. He said the cream is only treating the outer skin, erasing or minimizing wrinkles. Constantly applying it also means a thickening of sagging skin tissues underneath. He was scared about the reverse effect, that the treatment would lose its effectivity and that all the wrinkly tissues would just resurface at once. I think he worried unnecessarily (though it was understandable). Matter ultimately ages no matter what we do.

But we try to suspend, prevent, and delay aging.  Thus, the Botox, face lifting, acupuncture and I am not sure what else is there in the market. Good for those who can afford it, bad for those who cannot. We put so much value on beauty, which leads me to…

I was reading Philosophy of Man (POM) few days ago. I was in the part where the author highlighted the contributions of the three Greek philosophers in history, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. There were also some facts about their lives. One was unnecessary and totally off (considering the entire philosophical contents of POM [why the eff is there an auto link to something when I write t-h-e-b-o-o-k???] ) the #2 of this:

“Said to be an ugly woman”. Said to be…it was not even a hard-core fact. Tsk. Tsk.

No wonder a lot feels insecure even where they are beautiful. No wonder everyone is clamoring to be physically beautiful. No one wants to be immortalized in history as ugly.

You are what inside matters. You have the universe in you with all your mysteries and beauties. If they could not see that, they must be in their own black hole. 

There will always be different concepts of beauty. For a while, forget what you see, forget what you were told, forget about the concept of beauty. For a while, dwell on what Neil DeGrasse Tyson said:

"The universe is in us.

The very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff."

Science is freakingmazing and I am always awestruck by the Creator of us. 

Considering the elements you are made of and the intangible building blocks (thoughts, dreams, ambition, character, wisdom, etc.) that make you who you are and the evolution you go through as a person, heck, you are very beautiful. Don't forget that.

Mercury Retrograde, Are You Not Done Yet?

Mercury retrograde, it's the phenomenon of the year when the planet Mercury moves in opposite direction of the planet Earth. But, it's an optical illusion.

It is similar to the one you experience when you're in a car on the highway moving faster than a train alongside you. The train appears to be moving backward, but it's just moving more slowly than you are. The same thing happens when our planet passes Mercury in our orbit around the sun. Mercury is just moving slower than Earth, causing the illusion that it's moving in retrograde.

This year, 2015, Mercury is retrograde from...

January 21st to February 11th

May 19th to June 11th

September 17th to October 9th

With the dates of the retrograde mentioned above, I should be thankful that my birthday does not fall to any of the dates. Geez, I now get what's up with the Geminis and Virgos (signs ruled by Mercury). Oops. But, Cancer has its issues being a water sign and ruled by the moon, and we're also hard to figure out (they said)... So, go figure!

Apparently, according to Astrologists, Mercury seems to impact people in most ways than the other planets (which also retrograde):

It’s because Mercury rules communication, clear thinking, truth and travel, so when the planet goes retrograde — which means that it looks like it’s going backwards in the sky — all those things go backwards. They start to get ugly and tangle up.

However,

Even people who “don’t believe in astrology” often “believe” in the crazy aftershocks of Mercury retrograde!

That's a half-relief.

It seems that when the planet is in retrograde, we're caught up with our "shadows", the less appealing side of our being, but it's the best time for "introspection" and to be more attentive to details of the important matters (we're dealing with).

The retrograde cycle tends to reveal what is not working properly, and although it can contribute to delays and frustrations, it can also reveal issues that are important to resolve, fix or address.

It is actually a very good time to deal with what has been put on the back burner, or to finish what had already been started much earlier.

It is a good time for reflective and creative writing, inner work, journaling, spiritual work and completing long overdue tasks.

So, if you want to know the Mercury Retrograde is with messing your life and you want to survive it, you can cross-check with the following:

http://thoughtcatalog.com/jamie-varon/2014/10/17-signs-this-mercury-retrograde-is-really-fcking-with-you/

http://galadarling.com/article/how-to-survive-mercury-retrograde/

My system is under par these last few days. So maybe next year, I'll have a memory of these repeating: down immune system, zit breakout, over-thinking, sinful desire to cut my long tresses like that of Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago, or maybe, Josie Natori's (because with the right sass (lol), short hair can be seeexaay [lol]).  For the record, I'm telling the truth. Really.

Maybe, I should check the dates for next year's Mercury retrograde.

To get ready.

Yes, for real.

LOL.

Really, I'm serious.

LOL.


On a serious note, for more scientific explanation of the phenomenon, here's Wiki and more of Wiki.


Sources:
1. http://www.mnn.com/lifestyle/arts-culture/stories/what-does-mercury-retrograde-mean
2. http://galadarling.com/article/how-to-survive-mercury-retrograde/
3. http://www.astrologyhoroscopereadings.com/2013-mercury-retrograde-calendar.html
4. http://www.astrologyhoroscopereadings.com/2014-mercury-retrograde-calendar.html
5. http://starchild.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/StarChild/questions/question46.html
6. http://astrology.about.com/od/advancedastrology/p/MercuryRetro.htm
7. http://www.lynnkoiner.com/astrology-articles/retrograde-planets-lecture-notes

We Are Designed To Heal

I have to admit I struggled between maintaining my privacy and reaching out to people. It's the same reason why I didn't, or rather stopped, posting pictures in my social media accounts and even minimized sharing quotes -- and realized I was and still fine with it -- because at some point, I felt I sounded too righteous. Knowing I was so flawed, struggling every now and then with my demons while keeping my balance, I felt guilty of being too "preachy". I lost the privilege of riding my high horse, so to speak, when I questioned everything I stood for. Even the simple act of sharing inspirational messages - thinking that by doing so would inspire someone and that someone would inspire another, and that one by one we could infuse more humanity in the chaotic world - lost its meaning.

I had no problem being open. My thought, joy, sarcasm, opinion, I shared them (and obviously, when it's a part of you, it never goes away, as evident by the posts here). But when one area of your life doesn't seem to fit with the other areas to make a whole you, everything you stood for and believed in seemed a... farce. That's what I felt, at least. So I stepped back - and was fine being a reader of my news feed and an amiable "Liker" of others' posts and photos - and scaled down my "sunshiny" personality. Can you imagine someone who's perpetually happy suddenly gotten dim? I felt like a sunflower in the desert, slowly wilting, day by day, under the intense heat of the sun, without the hope of being watered back to life anytime soon. I even had a soundtrack for it, Bright Eyes by Art Garfunkel. Lol.

That's what broken heart did to me, I just died. As Elite Daily stated, "Love Is A Motherf*cker". I suffered the pain of loss resulting from death but the pain of loss from someone breaking my heart, it's intense and magnified a thousand times (anyone who can relate, raise your arms). Maybe because I sincerely and faithfully put my trust in someone who assured me he would be there through the tough and happy times and suddenly, I found myself coping things alone. What's worst, it made me question if there was authenticity to every word he uttered and made me ask the most dreaded question: Did he even love me?

It's true that we go through  a lot of broken hearts in our lifetime and, most of them are our own making. To further stress the last part, I SOLELY feel responsible for all my broken hearts, because I made the choice to be a part of something, and in the case of a love affair gone wrong, I made the choice to make the person become a part of me. I know, I'm trying to be a captain of my ship, even if the ship wrecked me. Lol.

There are different levels of broken heart. Some we seem to recover easily in no time. But some just takes time and it changes us in so many ways like nothing else can. It changes our perspectives and the relationships we have with others. There's a definite taint in the issue of trust. We become selective of who should we let in in our lives. But the problem with it, we become closed off and we lost the chance to be a blessing to others.

But it's justified, right? The fear of being too vulnerable. The thought of people laughing at your misery. The loathing of being called stupid and affirming to the label. They weighed too much on the shoulders.

I shouted out loud before on so many occasions, "Yo, it's okay to wallow in misery", because somehow we all manage to find ourselves out of hell and end up okay. And that's what makes pain beautiful. Only, we won't see the beauty of it until it's over and we make it to the other side and evolve into someone better with higher level of consciousness, more mindful of ourselves and more empathetic about others.

Pain is a gift in a deformed box. We just have to have the grace to accept it and the patience to slowly peel off its wrapper before we can unravel, delight and be grateful of the beautiful content.

Maybe Strangers Are Not Meant To Be Just Strangers, After All

I like talking - whether I initiated it or by the other party - with strangers in random places (but then, even the place where you are [because you want to be there; planned] at the moment, essentially becomes random when you don't deliberately choose to be there as often as you should and the possibility of you being there in the first place is close to zero). There are strangers that are impressive merely because they stand out from the crowd for different reasons. It could be that they are dressed well, or not (again, perspective), or they are loud and you hear them very clearly even when you're lost in your own thoughts or breaking your eardrums with your music, or they do something noticeable (maybe by accident) while others are quiet, on a standstill or glued to their chair. But what sticks the most, is hearing a story from another stranger. Whether the story is compelling, amusing, hilarious, or life-changing, you don't fail to take note, because it resonates in ways relatable to you, or it becomes a pivotal point of reference (for your future, for whatever purpose it'll serve you) from thereon (e.g., as writing materials and more, in my case... I know, evil of me. So let's pinky swear you wouldn't sell me out?).

Maybe it's random, but maybe you're there at the right time. Maybe you're there, even without you realizing it, for that stranger - as a temporary respite, a break from what goes on in their lives (even if you don't know the details), a relief, etc. Or maybe, they're there for you, for reason you only know (if and when you give it a thought, there is something there, if you recognize the random connection). Since you don't know how your meeting affects the other (hopefully, in a positive light), you can only select the takeaways from your side of the fence. Even a brief tête-à-tête with a stranger has its purpose.

I see them in two ways - sealants that fill the cracks on my wall, and lights that find their way through the cracks. Either or both, they, sometimes, provide me reason when reason is too elusive for me to grasp.

Wow, the heavy random thought makes me en-lighten. How ironic is that? Okay, cornik. Lol.

So, I met a young mother of an ailing 5-yr old girl outside the MRI room in the hospital...

...and a loquacious François while waiting for my ride...

...and...

When Life Gave Me Lemon By Way Of A Failed OS

I mentioned my worry about the possibility of a disjointed laptop. No worries (yet), the appendages are still attached. I had more pressing problem than that. The OS just failed to work! Being a tenacious creature who does not easily give up, I basically spent the whole weekend – with a feeling that all my effort was futile, but still, I could not give up, just because – trying the system repair until it gave me a notice that it can’t, and it eventually shut down and I did the same process for the nth time. When I realized there was no other way to start my laptop working but to reformat and re-install the OS, I cried, unashamedly. Considering the circumstance, it’s understandable. Right?

I mean consider these:

      Millions of words written.

      Thousands of photographs.

      Five years of memories with families and friends.

      Countless stories of strangers yet to to be told.

ALL REDUCED TO 0. 

Who, in hell, would not cry over lost files?! Trust me, there are things that can break a heart besides a love affair gone wrong.

I thought about the efforts I put on my writings - the sleepless nights, the shameless thesaurus checking for the right words, the insecurity over grammar, the joy that came with the finished articles/essays. I grieved for the fortunate accidents that moments gave me to have beautiful pictures. All the crazy times that I waited for the right components to appear for those perfect shots…zilch. No more evidences. They now only exist in my head. 

I’m still reeling from my loss, but life has to go on. One has to begin again. This sounds like a lame attempt in marketing a lousy rom-com. Lol.

I had some help to re-install the OS. Some programs were replaced by another. And my keyboard is like a ghost manipulating the Ouija board, the cursor runs like crazy from one point to another , messing what I’m writing.  So my fear that “once a ‘puter/lappy is being tinkered, it’s never going to be the same” is right. And oh my Encarta is gone…so much for trying at being cultured.

I’m not whining. Considering I could not get back what I had lost (woot the cliché!), whining is pretty much useless. I’m trying my best-est at humor. Laugh, please.

You know, I have to say, even when you’re at your lowest - being desolate and hopeless – and your head is wrapped around on your moment’s concern, IF YOU’RE WILLING TO SEE, IF YOU’RE WILLING TO BE SURPRISED, you will always find something to lighten your mood, something akin to sunlight peeking through the cracks in the dark clouds. I basically meant humor. Or comedy. Or however you categorize it.

So, there I was,  mourning with heavy heart over my lost history while entertaining different thoughts over my future works (that would probably need my lost materials) and considering my options, two of my friends (who are in different parts of the country) sent me a private message (out of the blue!) if I’m married and if not, why.

                                      *___________________________*

                                                    The hell?!

But instead of losing head over it and be more upset, it cracked me up. BIG TIME. God (and I do believe He exists) has humor.  Like I already told before, as long as I’m single, it’s a question that will hound me. I found it amusing every time. And given that it’s amusing to me, and to be asked that amusing question while I was distraught, the timing was just perfect and not at the same time. That’s what  I found comical, the absurdity of the timing.

When you’re able to laugh through your misery, you know things will be fine.

Be Aware Of The Uncanny Peace When You Wake Up

This morning as I was waking up, Pharrell William's "Happy" crept in my consciousness. I did not know where it came from because I stopped liking that song for few months now.

A little backstory here. "Happy" was like my soundtrack last year (2014), from the moment I heard it until the third quarter of the year. At that time, my "light" just dimmed. Slowly, everything that supposedly kept my happy spirit burning just went off. The songs that made me dance, quotes that inspired me, people that made me laugh... they ceased to exist. I was in a black hole, alone. That's what I felt, at least. I don't know if I was depressed. I never knew the definition of depression, and even now, I refused to define it and connect it to sadness. Anyway, "Happy" kind of connected me to that period in my past. And feeling that way, "Happy" sounded like a mockery to my emotional and mental state. It's not that I disliked it intentionally. It just happened. I loathed hearing it. It reminded me of people, events and feelings I wanted to move on from.

The song came with a feeling of peace, that I had it on repeat for the whole morning to keep the vibe going.

I should have known that was the "eye of the storm". But I never knew how and what it connected to, until I was/am in the storm. Lol. The last time I felt an uncanny peace was two months ago -- that day, that moment -- before I realized my wallet that contained my identification cards, money and mementos from friends, was lost. That kind of feeling you get when someone hugs you before your turn in a contest or before taking an entrance exam that says "whatever happens, you are going to be fine"? That's the kind of peace I have had, something that just happened without an effort from my part. I don't know if you (by you i meant whoever reads my blog, lol) ever had that?

When you are in tune with your emotions, you learn to read that they are associated to the events that will happen later. Some can be signs to something dreadful that will occur, which could send you into agitation but could arouse the carefulness in you at the same time. Warning signals, I should say. Sometimes, you feel that something just shifted in the universe and all the planets aligned to bring you good news. Obviously, I'm talking from experience. Lol. (I have this theory that everything in the world connects. Although some things that are happening may not seem related if you look at them one by one, but if you look at them in the bigger picture, they are effect from a ripple, or part of the ripple you created or someone's ripple. So, what happens in the world's unseen dynamic could and would send vibrations to the elements [and man is an element] that are part of its system that something is "stirring". And as human, you can sense the "stirring" from within you. But, I would rather have it as an electrical current in small voltage for a good jolt. That would obviously tell me I have something concrete to work on. Lol.) Anyway, I don't know if someone could relate to these? I do know too, that some have the tendency to over-read the signs and that everything in their lives depend on them, entirely forgetting critical thinking. So, be careful.

I have to say, emotions are not the be all end all of a situation. You cannot undo what you feel, but you can move on from it and do what's need to be done regarding the situation. Like now, the state of my laptop (i'm gonna cry again, wah!) would get in the way of my creative process. I have to save my files in the disks soon, before my laptop parts get dismembered (the part that connects the monitor and keyboard is in bad shape, maybe because someone dropped it and just afraid to own the shit, or its better days are over [insert sad emoticon]). I gotta be ready before this baby will bid me goodbye after five years. There is no such thing as forever. #Hugot

A Dinner With High School Friends

No better place to meet up for dinner. It simply was ^.

Last night I met my high school friends, in honor of our friend who's in the country for her vacation (she's based in California, USA). Several people were asked to join but we were down to seven, two men and five women. We had dinner in a Chinese restaurant, Majestic Restaurant (if I can get hold of the other pics, I might post an entry of the food there for In My City), in Ayala Mall.

It should have been more grand, considering we haven't seen each other for a looong time! But dinner was just fine for the small party of seven. There's been a mention of a grand celebration next year...so we'll see. I'm excited!

Meeting people you haven't seen in a long time can be dreadful in a sense that it feels like you're meeting them for the first time and you have to find some common grounds. Since we lived separate lives after our graduation, we lost touch, so to speak. There is nothing like meeting friends on regular basis in person, but we're scattered in different parts of the world. Facebook is kind of a good thing to keep in touch, be updated and set time to reconnect, I guess.

But dread was nothing compared to the excitement. After all the hi's and hello's, it's getting down to business of "how's life", "oh gawd, where are you working", "are you married"...and such and such. Lol. The most juicy part was asking about some people we knew in our high school. I would not like to label it gossiping but getting updated (lol!). And since I had not heard much about the other batch mates, I could only ask what happened to some of our friends and they were kind (nice, gracious, informative?) enough to provide more detailed accounts. There were several mentions of this and that who were married but got separated. Hearing that kind of story, no wonder anyone who's single would re-think about marriage, yours truly included. Lol.

Two questions were directed at this girl several times during dinner:

"So why are you not married yet?" This kind of question is really a must on gatherings, eh? This had a follow-up question in the car on our way home that called for a separate entry.

"Are you bulimic?" ... in reference to my w-e-i-g-h-t. And Darling, her name really, asked the question while mimicking the act of self-induced vomiting. WTF. Calling me anorexic was amusing and suggesting I'm bulimic was less so. Lol. Eating, or pretending to eat, only to force yourself to throw up after is a LOT of work, in my opinion. I threw up several times when I was drunk and it was nasty every time and they happened involuntarily (your insides just have a way of telling you're in a mess, no?), would I subject myself to voluntary torture? Naaaayyyyyyyy. With the weight being discuss all the time, one learns to be gracious about it (for some reason I can hear Alanis Morrisette's line "you learn, you live"), by doing this ---> :D ....followed by long-winded explanation. Lol.

Anyway, it was a nice dinner filled with stories and laughter. It was nice to know that however we led our lives, we could still pick up where we left off. More than the friendship, I guess that's what maturity is all about, to be in good terms with everyone you know and to stay connected for the rest of your life, if possible. THAT, is included in my definition of a GOOD LIFE.

In Memory Of My Grandmother's Third Year Death Anniversary

Three years after and the pain still lingers. Whenever this day come, I could always recall the days and the hours leading to her passing. But I also remember vividly the morning after the day she died. Morning rituals were about making her porridge, crushing her medicine tablets finely to be mixed in her water, turning her from side to side, changing her clothes or bathing her. The realization that we would never be doing that anymore was the most painful. It confirmed that she was finally gone. Then it made me realize all the things she always did that I would miss, that everything I will have from that point on were her memories.

For now, in respect to the amazing woman who helped me turned out the person I become, here are the lessons I (and my siblings) learned from her. I'll probably be doing this in installment, year after year. I still have to share the proper ways to do stuff like how to iron clothes and which parts to pay attention to, among others. Or, maybe I should write a book: The Girl In Ripped Jeans: Lessons From Matilde. Hah! Her name sounds grand, eh? :)

1. She taught us good manners and grace.
My grandmother was all about good manners and right conduct. She was stern in imposing that we should behave in public. Whenever she brought us to someone's house, it was a rule to sit still and never touch the home owner's things, unless with permission. She taught me and my siblings to be courteous to the elders, performing our customary greeting whenever and wherever we met them. Being children who were playful and committed mistakes every now and then, whether unconsciously or to test her patience, we knew when we were due for a reprimand. She managed to convey her displeasure even when we did not look at her, being guilty and all we could feel her body turning rigid, lips tightening and eyes boring holes into us. She took us anywhere with her that minding our manners in her presence became a must. Her training paid off. She and grandfather were often told how well-behaved we were. I felt them being proud of us. I knew they were proud of us because they were vocal about it. But truthfully, I was more proud of having them, helping our parents raised us and I was proud of being their granddaughter. Until now my heart still swells with pride for the legacy she left us. Something we would always be grateful for, my siblings and I.

2. She taught us to listen.
We were never allowed to interrupt in older people's conversation. She was firm that if we needed to speak we ask for permission. Since we tagged along wherever she went, and mostly she went to friends and relatives who were around her age, there was really nothing for us to do but sat still, listened with eyes darting everywhere and silently wishing for them to finish their chitchat and go home.

As we grew up, we were contributing to their mature discussion. But she taught us to listen first before we cut in for our inputs.

3. She taught us to be kind to others.
I remember my grandmother was someone whom anyone could turn to whenever they need help, money or service. When someone needed money, she lent them hers. When she had no spare cash to lend, she pawned her jewelry for them. Or when someone asked her to act as guarantor, she readily agreed. Her good reputation was some sort of assurance that the borrower would never be turned down by the lender. Her house was always open to anyone who asked for her help. Her house was always welcoming to anyone who needed warmth and food.

Not only was she compassionate to people. Her kindness extended to animals, even to dangerous creature like snakes, letting them go when she encountered them while gardening. She said "kindness begets kindness". She firmly believed that even animals could sense it.

4. She taught us to take care of family.
She was always around for anyone who needed her. She called long distance on special occasions without fail, letting us know we mattered. That was one thing we missed the most when she was gone. No more calls on our birthdays, Christmases and New Years.

She did not like us calling our siblings names (though we were just poking fun at each other). "Blood should take care of their own blood and should not shame them", she said.

5. She taught us to laugh at life.
Not that she was one cool grandmother who got along well with our playfulness. It's the other way around. My grandmother was serious in life. She was not good at making jokes nor tolerant of one thrown at her. I wished she laughed more and that's one reason for me to embrace life with joy despite the challenges that come my way.

"Rice"

“Rice” 

by Chun Yang Hee

To you who eat a lot of rice because you are lonely,

To you who sleep a lot because you are bored,

To you who cry a lot because you are sad,

I write this down.

Chew on your feelings that are cornered

like you would chew on rice.

Anyway, life is …

something that you need to digest.

My sisters are K-Pop fanatics. K is for Korean, for your information. Since we only have one tv in the house, even if I/we don't want to, I/we have no choice but to watch with them. Lately, they were following a Korean drama with lots of eating, Let's Eat. On their last episode, they were in a restaurant and Dae-Kyoong, one of the main characters, was a food blogger. Instead of taking photos of their meal, he took a picture of the framed poem on the wall. That's the poem above.

The Story Of The Peeled Pencil

I like wood. I like its pure form. I like its brown color that seems to pay homage to where it grew from. I like the dedication it needs from an artist or furniture maker to polish its roughness and enhance its beauty to its fullest. 

I like it so much that I spend time to peel pencils and remove their colored coating. It does not matter whether I get a cut from the blade (I use the disposable one for the razor) as long as I will get the smoothness I want.

My nephew saw me doing it one time. He entertained me with his stories and amused me with his never-ending questions about anything while I was peeling the pencil and he did that until I was done. Few days later, my aunt borrowed the same pencil because she forgot to bring one and she needed it as judge for the beauty contest in my place.

I am pretty possessive of my things, whether I bought them or they were given. If someone has to borrow them, they need to return them. And if I decide to give them away, it's only because someone want them so much, though it's painful to let them go. I can only hope that the new owner will take care of them the way I did. Often than not, I found them haphazardly tossed somewhere. Every time, it breaks my heart for the thoughtlessness, not realizing how I took care of them while they were in my possession. Having said that, my aunt did not return the pencil. Maybe she just forgot, but just the same, I lost it forever. In this case, it didn't really matter. It's just a pencil, I could peel another one.

I told my nephew about it the day after it was borrowed while we were in the terrace. He excused himself. When he came back, he brought a new pencil with him and a blade. I figured he would peel the pencil, so I volunteered to do it, fearing he would cut his finger. But he refused, and said he'd do it himself. So I just watched him. He firmly held the pencil with his little fingers and carefully, slowly worked it. I asked if he wanted the pencil like mine. He replied, "This is for you."

To replace the pencil I lost, apparently. I brought his labor of love with me when I went back to the city. 

My brother borrowed it. In the middle of drawing something, it broke in half. I was there and couldn't help but gasped and told him it was a gift from our nephew and told him the story. He stopped what he was doing, got up and rummaged for something in the drawer. He got a masking tape and then rolled it over the broken part. Instead of using it again, he put it in the jar, along with the other pens and pencils. 

It's the same pencil that's in the photo. You can see the rough and uneven peeling did by a seven year old and the masking tape rolled by a fifteen year old. And today, my sister used it for her drawing.

Sometimes, children understand more than the adults do. They know love, and value its importance in its simplest forms and take care of it (or the result of it) and see that it will go a long way. The beauty of innocence - understanding the obvious and accepting the simple.

Rambling of a warrior.

I had been angry these last few weeks. I was angry on things and some people. Wait, I was angry at some people for the things they did. I know I should have confronted them, because little by little anger was screwing my system, and since I never felt it for so long, it was more intense and in a way, debilitating.

However, I'm not a confrontational person. I allow time for people to come out clean and own their shit. Unfortunately, only handful do that. They don't know it's waaaaay liberating to keep and own your truth no matter how screwed up it is. It frees the one you messed up with, and most importantly, it frees yourself.

Preach!

I know, I should have the same mindset about confrontation. To take action at the real time, that is. I do confront people, but only after I found my own peace, which means dealing with whoever with rationality, with less drama and no hurtful words spewing out from my lips. Sounds easy. Lol.

It should be. After going through an excruciating process of finding my own peace, tearing myself down and fighting my demons to deliver me to the state where I want to be, I should become insanely saner that ever.

The tragedy of being self-sufficient (or trying to be), is you fight your battles alone. Although you can talk it out with somebody, honestly, that's the farthest it can take you. You decide for yourself and fight for yourself.

The beauty of it, you find yourself on top shape, feeling invincible after conquering the stuff that fucked you up. And that's ONE. GOOD. SHIT. OF. A. REWARD.

In the age of selfie, what's your story?

"Beautiful."

"Hot."

"Audrey Hepburn resemblance."

"Mona Lisa smile!"

The pose was Audrey Hepburn, but it was only obvious when it was mentioned. 

Mona Lisa smile? The lips hardly formed a smirk to hint a mystery.

Hot, beautiful... the girl in the picture does not define herself that. She has a different concept of beauty.

They probably saw the long neck and admired the composure. Or they got attracted to the resemblance of an icon. Or were they soothed by the cleanliness of the lines and the classic chicness of black and white? Image. Aesthetic. 

They didn't know the whole picture was an ugly shot. They didn't know the girl in the picture loved arts and recognized the defining elements that made it redeemable - simplicity, lines, symmetry, harmony and subdued natural lighting - so she cropped it. I wonder if they knew she loved drama and stories and she found that in the picture. They probably didn't and wouldn't know. Maybe, a pretty picture is a story in itself, and there is no need to be curious and inquire and think deeper?

In the internet where almost everyone's absorbed with self-promotion, almost all the time it becomes a "what you see, is what you get". You click "like" on what please your eyes. 

You (the one who upload), on the other hand, bask on the gratification the likes make you feel, until, you get bored and post another selfie after what, 2 or 3 hours? You stress yourself what to post next, considering the pictures you've taken in one setting and discarding the ones you deemed less attractive. I get that part. The thing is, I do that on the shots I take of people, scenes and inanimate objects.

The frequency of selfies posted - obviously with the same face, same outfit, same setting - is the most grating. Vexing to the one whose news feed gets bombarded. I'm still weighing the concept of "muting" people because I am hoping some sense would knock into them. Also, some perverse curiosity is holding me back  to see what's next.

I wonder if they upload images of their face, just for the sake of something to upload. Whether they find themselves beautiful or not, always, people have something to say. And they have MORE to say when one's absorbed with the very idea of him/her.

What makes me wonder more, is if they have a story to tell behind the selfie. Anything, something.