They say if you don't like the ending, then don't even start thinking about it. The problem is most of the time it is your own feelings that betray you.
One moment you feel that you’ve moved on from a break up, ready to face a whole new world, and then you wake up one day feeling miserable all of a sudden, recalling all the pain you thought were already gone.
You know how it feels to slump back to that dark past but undeniably, stubbornness is the one enemy of all dealing with dilemmas. No matter how you portray that undefeatable façade, you see yourself being drifted to that zone of vulnerability. Because you allow your feelings consume you. Most of the time you are indeed miserable because you choose to. You place yourself into where your feelings can manipulate you and make you believe that what it says is the reality.
But in the real reality, you are just one soul trapped by your own feelings. You are wondering on the endless what ifs of the past maybe because you just run out of something good to think of and strangely have that desire to feel miserable.
Feelings are always deceiving. It’s something very difficult to comprehend, but can be mastered I believe. It’s a venom that can poison you without you knowing if you have not learned to manage it.
There’s always one question you can consider:
Are you wise enough to know where your feelings lead you?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
The Game
Characters: He and She
Setting: Some bench in some place, one hazy day.
He: “So you think everything’s changed now, eh?” He had that probing eyes, trying to extract all information from her silence.
She: “Am I wrong?” It was her time to give him that prying look, and he turned away with a nervous laugh.
He: “I’m still here, right?” He tried to make it sound funny.
She: “Are you?” She threw back. It was the first time that he failed to make her laugh.
He: “What do you think am I, a ghost?” He laughed, feeling victorious in having found a way to break the tension between them. Second try.
She: “Didn’t you introduce yourself to me as that a long time ago?” She simply shrugged, breaking his triumph. Second failure.
He: “I know…” He said quietly. She could’ve jumped for winning the all-questions game they started. But she hoped he would say something more.
He: Said none.
She: “Gotcha. I won this time.” She joked, collecting back her things and her tears. She said a fast goodbye.
She: Ran away, without looking.
She knew he would never add anything more, not now, not tomorrow, probably never in this lifetime.
When can that ever sink in?
Setting: Some bench in some place, one hazy day.
He: “So you think everything’s changed now, eh?” He had that probing eyes, trying to extract all information from her silence.
She: “Am I wrong?” It was her time to give him that prying look, and he turned away with a nervous laugh.
He: “I’m still here, right?” He tried to make it sound funny.
She: “Are you?” She threw back. It was the first time that he failed to make her laugh.
He: “What do you think am I, a ghost?” He laughed, feeling victorious in having found a way to break the tension between them. Second try.
She: “Didn’t you introduce yourself to me as that a long time ago?” She simply shrugged, breaking his triumph. Second failure.
He: “I know…” He said quietly. She could’ve jumped for winning the all-questions game they started. But she hoped he would say something more.
He: Said none.
She: “Gotcha. I won this time.” She joked, collecting back her things and her tears. She said a fast goodbye.
She: Ran away, without looking.
She knew he would never add anything more, not now, not tomorrow, probably never in this lifetime.
When can that ever sink in?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
When it isn't about you this time
Who isn't thinking of becoming successful, being happy or getting the best in this life?
Do we not wake up in the morning preoccupied on running our life and making the most of it?
Do we not sometimes look at people thinking what can we possibly get from this person? Is he an asset or liability to my race?
Or even as we walk the streets, do we not think that all eyes are on us and we're being watched by the world?
Do we not want to get recognition for every little thing that we do? Do we not mimic a child saying "hey dad! watch me! watch what i can do!"
Talk about being self-absorbed.
We are so consumed by ourselves that we sometimes think that the world has to stop and care for us, to listen and give us what we want.
Do we not like those people or guys (he he sorry) who just love to talk about their curriculum vitae and enumerate all their accomplishments, then give you 5 seconds to comment an "ah" or "ok" or maybe applaud? then continue rambling?
The 'me-attitude' is always not the best option.
In life, I think the more we focus on ourselves, the more we find that too much is lacking. Sometimes, when we shift our focus from ourselves, to what we can do for others, it's where we find true fulfillment.
I've read a book once saying our own comfort comes when we give comfort to others. Financial sufficiency comes from sparing some of our own for others. It's hard to understand but it works.
Most of the time, there are far greater things in this world than our own. And since we are concentrated with our own little world, we neglect to recognize our responsibility with other people and yes I believe we have.
Sometimes, it isn't just about us anymore.
Do we not wake up in the morning preoccupied on running our life and making the most of it?
Do we not sometimes look at people thinking what can we possibly get from this person? Is he an asset or liability to my race?
Or even as we walk the streets, do we not think that all eyes are on us and we're being watched by the world?
Do we not want to get recognition for every little thing that we do? Do we not mimic a child saying "hey dad! watch me! watch what i can do!"
Talk about being self-absorbed.
We are so consumed by ourselves that we sometimes think that the world has to stop and care for us, to listen and give us what we want.
Do we not like those people or guys (he he sorry) who just love to talk about their curriculum vitae and enumerate all their accomplishments, then give you 5 seconds to comment an "ah" or "ok" or maybe applaud? then continue rambling?
The 'me-attitude' is always not the best option.
In life, I think the more we focus on ourselves, the more we find that too much is lacking. Sometimes, when we shift our focus from ourselves, to what we can do for others, it's where we find true fulfillment.
I've read a book once saying our own comfort comes when we give comfort to others. Financial sufficiency comes from sparing some of our own for others. It's hard to understand but it works.
Most of the time, there are far greater things in this world than our own. And since we are concentrated with our own little world, we neglect to recognize our responsibility with other people and yes I believe we have.
Sometimes, it isn't just about us anymore.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
When two people don't seem to match
I’m not really fond of meddling with other people’s business but it doesn’t mean I can’t have my own opinion about their lives. But don’t worry, I don’t go straight in front of them and tell them “hey your life sucks!” I got my own life to worry about.
It just so happened that I have this very dear friend and I cannot really figure out how she turned out to be madly in love with this guy. I thought she was just fond of the feeling of being with someone but would soon lose interest. But I realized they’ve been together for quite a while now! Where’s the breakup I’ve been waiting for?
You may think I’m cruel for wanting them to break up, or I’m just one bitter person who can’t find her own happiness. Maybe I am or I just want to have a partner in this world of singlehood. But can it be possible that I want the best guy for her? Ha ha sounds very mommy-ish!
My point is, they just don’t seem to match. I think my friend is too smart, pretty and way too talented. She has this amazing confidence and ability to make people give her a second look and hear what she has to say. (I’m so jealous!)
Then one night she just came to me with all sparkly eyes saying she may have found the one! The one? Him? Seriously???
Yeah, seriously.
I’m not here to demean other people. Now I’m feeling guilty. I just can’t really understand why such an exceptional lady would fall in love with someone…ordinary.
She could’ve found someone she can also have a good laugh with, someone who would also love her despite her immaturities, someone who would also make sense…but better.
Don’t I really like him that much? Not really… I’m just wondering could he really be the right one for her?
It just so happened that I have this very dear friend and I cannot really figure out how she turned out to be madly in love with this guy. I thought she was just fond of the feeling of being with someone but would soon lose interest. But I realized they’ve been together for quite a while now! Where’s the breakup I’ve been waiting for?
You may think I’m cruel for wanting them to break up, or I’m just one bitter person who can’t find her own happiness. Maybe I am or I just want to have a partner in this world of singlehood. But can it be possible that I want the best guy for her? Ha ha sounds very mommy-ish!
My point is, they just don’t seem to match. I think my friend is too smart, pretty and way too talented. She has this amazing confidence and ability to make people give her a second look and hear what she has to say. (I’m so jealous!)
Then one night she just came to me with all sparkly eyes saying she may have found the one! The one? Him? Seriously???
Yeah, seriously.
I’m not here to demean other people. Now I’m feeling guilty. I just can’t really understand why such an exceptional lady would fall in love with someone…ordinary.
She could’ve found someone she can also have a good laugh with, someone who would also love her despite her immaturities, someone who would also make sense…but better.
Don’t I really like him that much? Not really… I’m just wondering could he really be the right one for her?
Saturday, January 3, 2009
When you regret sending a message
3 nights ago I sent a message to an old friend in Australia. We haven't talked for months now and I just wondered what could be wrong in sending a hi message.
Months ago I knew that very moment would come that's why I deleted everything that could possibly tempt me to get in touch with him- email addresses, phone numbers, home address (if I get too crazy and fly off to Australia). I thought I was wise enough then. But I am more clever/stupid now. I found my old phone where I stored and probably intentionally forgot to delete those info about him. Okay, I'll spare you the drama. I might regret this even more.
So, unfortunately, I got his number and sent him a text message. Not that I expected a reply. (Who am I kidding?) But hey, he could've been polite enough to text me back after he has dumped me in exchange for his trip to Japan. That was so unforgivable and his conscience should be bugging him for his insensitivity, but that too was ineffective. And so even before the year ended, I did an awful thing for even bothering to ask how he was doing. I should quit reading that book saying I have to get in touch with the person that pops in my head. Yes, there is such a book. And yes, I'm making it as an excuse.
It was really nothing and I can't believe that after more than a year of that broken promise, I would still create a big fuss out of it. And it is much more foolish to post it here.
Related Posts:
A Ghost
Months ago I knew that very moment would come that's why I deleted everything that could possibly tempt me to get in touch with him- email addresses, phone numbers, home address (if I get too crazy and fly off to Australia). I thought I was wise enough then. But I am more clever/stupid now. I found my old phone where I stored and probably intentionally forgot to delete those info about him. Okay, I'll spare you the drama. I might regret this even more.
So, unfortunately, I got his number and sent him a text message. Not that I expected a reply. (Who am I kidding?) But hey, he could've been polite enough to text me back after he has dumped me in exchange for his trip to Japan. That was so unforgivable and his conscience should be bugging him for his insensitivity, but that too was ineffective. And so even before the year ended, I did an awful thing for even bothering to ask how he was doing. I should quit reading that book saying I have to get in touch with the person that pops in my head. Yes, there is such a book. And yes, I'm making it as an excuse.
It was really nothing and I can't believe that after more than a year of that broken promise, I would still create a big fuss out of it. And it is much more foolish to post it here.
Related Posts:
A Ghost
Thursday, November 27, 2008
NOW THAT I'M HOME
Demy was standing outside for almost an hour now. It was almost midnight and it was freezing outside but he didn’t care. His old hands were holding a bouquet of red roses which could have already withered by his stare.
He knew the kids would be arriving in the morning. Even if he couldn’t hear a slight movement, he knew there was still somebody inside waiting for them. He peeked through the heavily curtained window once in a while, desperate to get a view.
He made several attempts but ran out of strength to move a few more muscles to make that press on the doorbell. Fear, together with the cold breeze, wrapped him. He began to become more anxious. He was afraid of how he would be welcomed, if he would be at all. He didn’t even know how he got the courage to be there.
He was about to leave when he heard a door being opened. Sensing the noise created by the screen door that probably had not been replaced for years, Demy knew that it was the back door.
Quivering, he made a few steps towards the backyard. The porch at the back was dimly lit. Hearing the silent rush of waves, he paused. He closed his eyes, remembering how good it felt to be there once again.
He stopped upon seeing a rocking chair move from the other side. He stared at the old lady facing at the beach, slowly rocking the chair back and forth. He guessed she was reading one of her hundreds of books.
With a few more deep breathing and fidgeting, he quietly said, “Merry Christmas, Betty…”
The rocking chair stopped and he could see the lady froze. Betty slowly turned her head and her eyes instantly welled up.
Demy moved toward her and handed her the flowers.
“You remembered…” Betty almost whispered.
He hesitated but made one more step to reach out for her hand. “I’ve made mistakes in the past and it took me this long to realize I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry…” He was trying to fight the lump in his throat.
With more effort, Betty stood up shaking her head. And with those same loving eyes, she said, “What matters is you’re here…”
Demy hugged her, hoping it could make up for the lost years. “I will never leave again…now that I’m home…”
He knew the kids would be arriving in the morning. Even if he couldn’t hear a slight movement, he knew there was still somebody inside waiting for them. He peeked through the heavily curtained window once in a while, desperate to get a view.
He made several attempts but ran out of strength to move a few more muscles to make that press on the doorbell. Fear, together with the cold breeze, wrapped him. He began to become more anxious. He was afraid of how he would be welcomed, if he would be at all. He didn’t even know how he got the courage to be there.
He was about to leave when he heard a door being opened. Sensing the noise created by the screen door that probably had not been replaced for years, Demy knew that it was the back door.
Quivering, he made a few steps towards the backyard. The porch at the back was dimly lit. Hearing the silent rush of waves, he paused. He closed his eyes, remembering how good it felt to be there once again.
He stopped upon seeing a rocking chair move from the other side. He stared at the old lady facing at the beach, slowly rocking the chair back and forth. He guessed she was reading one of her hundreds of books.
With a few more deep breathing and fidgeting, he quietly said, “Merry Christmas, Betty…”
The rocking chair stopped and he could see the lady froze. Betty slowly turned her head and her eyes instantly welled up.
Demy moved toward her and handed her the flowers.
“You remembered…” Betty almost whispered.
He hesitated but made one more step to reach out for her hand. “I’ve made mistakes in the past and it took me this long to realize I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry…” He was trying to fight the lump in his throat.
With more effort, Betty stood up shaking her head. And with those same loving eyes, she said, “What matters is you’re here…”
Demy hugged her, hoping it could make up for the lost years. “I will never leave again…now that I’m home…”
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Didn't You Like Daddy's Gift?
Three days before Christmas. Mom was busy preparing the dinner. Knowing that I was not allowed near the kitchen while they were busy, I used my strategy. “Mom, can I mix this for you?” I asked sweetly, eager to help out in making the flan. I was four years old.
But my mom knew better. Maybe she remembered the last time that I “helped” her I just broke the bowl and spilled everything on the floor. “Thank you honey…But don’t you think it’s more fun to be part of the game team?”
It didn’t work! With a defeated look, I walked away. I knew my sisters wouldn’t let me help either.
“Can I help?” I boldly volunteered anyway. My sisters were wrapping the prizes for the games.
“You don’t even know how to use the scissors. Plus, it won’t be a surprise then.”
“But…what will I do?” I was helpless. Everyone had their assignment for the party but nobody would let me help.
“You can take care of the gifts. Arrange them from the biggest to the smallest.”
I can do that! That’s the best part! So I hurried towards the tree and stared at the huge pile of gifts slumped beneath. Squeezing and shaking each gift, I had guessed them all.
Another pillow for mom…
Stuffed teddy for my sister…
A toy car for my brother…
For dad…Maybe something for his car…I can’t guess this…
And mine is…Where’s mine?! I finished arranging the gifts but I couldn’t find mine. I was already in panic searching for my gift.
Then I found a tiny box at the farthest corner by the tree. It was so tiny that it didn’t seem like a gift at all. But when I checked it, oh boy, it had my name on it! And it was from my dad!
I sneaked at my sisters and saw everyone still busy. I hid at the corner and hastily opened that tiny box from my dad.
“There’s nothing here!” I squealed loud enough to stop the entire household from doing their thing. I threw the box away and marched outside, grumbling.
I left them all bewildered. But seeing the wrap of the tiny box torn open, they began to laugh.
Outside, I was still in shock. I couldn’t believe my dad would give me a box of matchsticks for Christmas! It was the most ridiculous gift any person could have. I didn’t even know how to light one.
My mom followed me outside and tried to pacify me. I was acting like a total brat.
“Didn’t you like dad’s gift?”
Instead of answering, I pouted and stomped heavily. Mom burst in laughter. I was so pissed off. My mom’s terrible. How could she laugh at my misfortune?
She showed me the tiny box of matchsticks and opened it in front of me. Two bright pink Hello Kitty hair clips were inside. I froze. It was the hair clips that I had been bugging my mom about. She said I already have dozens of Hello Kitty items and she wouldn’t buy it for me. I looked at my mom then back to the hair clips then back to mom.
Mom wiped my tears and kissed me on the cheek. “Daddy bought it for you…”
In the middle of my silent sobs, I heard a voice behind me. “Didn’t you like daddy’s gift?”
I ran toward daddy and hugged him tight. “It’s the best, daddy! I’m sorry…”
“What’s inside is what matters, right honey?”
But my mom knew better. Maybe she remembered the last time that I “helped” her I just broke the bowl and spilled everything on the floor. “Thank you honey…But don’t you think it’s more fun to be part of the game team?”
It didn’t work! With a defeated look, I walked away. I knew my sisters wouldn’t let me help either.
“Can I help?” I boldly volunteered anyway. My sisters were wrapping the prizes for the games.
“You don’t even know how to use the scissors. Plus, it won’t be a surprise then.”
“But…what will I do?” I was helpless. Everyone had their assignment for the party but nobody would let me help.
“You can take care of the gifts. Arrange them from the biggest to the smallest.”
I can do that! That’s the best part! So I hurried towards the tree and stared at the huge pile of gifts slumped beneath. Squeezing and shaking each gift, I had guessed them all.
Another pillow for mom…
Stuffed teddy for my sister…
A toy car for my brother…
For dad…Maybe something for his car…I can’t guess this…
And mine is…Where’s mine?! I finished arranging the gifts but I couldn’t find mine. I was already in panic searching for my gift.
Then I found a tiny box at the farthest corner by the tree. It was so tiny that it didn’t seem like a gift at all. But when I checked it, oh boy, it had my name on it! And it was from my dad!
I sneaked at my sisters and saw everyone still busy. I hid at the corner and hastily opened that tiny box from my dad.
“There’s nothing here!” I squealed loud enough to stop the entire household from doing their thing. I threw the box away and marched outside, grumbling.
I left them all bewildered. But seeing the wrap of the tiny box torn open, they began to laugh.
Outside, I was still in shock. I couldn’t believe my dad would give me a box of matchsticks for Christmas! It was the most ridiculous gift any person could have. I didn’t even know how to light one.
My mom followed me outside and tried to pacify me. I was acting like a total brat.
“Didn’t you like dad’s gift?”
Instead of answering, I pouted and stomped heavily. Mom burst in laughter. I was so pissed off. My mom’s terrible. How could she laugh at my misfortune?
She showed me the tiny box of matchsticks and opened it in front of me. Two bright pink Hello Kitty hair clips were inside. I froze. It was the hair clips that I had been bugging my mom about. She said I already have dozens of Hello Kitty items and she wouldn’t buy it for me. I looked at my mom then back to the hair clips then back to mom.
Mom wiped my tears and kissed me on the cheek. “Daddy bought it for you…”
In the middle of my silent sobs, I heard a voice behind me. “Didn’t you like daddy’s gift?”
I ran toward daddy and hugged him tight. “It’s the best, daddy! I’m sorry…”
“What’s inside is what matters, right honey?”
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Biggest Star
It was only four in the morning. The house was just lit by the flickering Christmas light. Tricia was already busy decorating the tree.
Tricia remembered how she was not allowed to put decors on their Christmas tree when she was younger. She would be given just a few Christmas balls and she would hang it on the bottom of the tree. Even so, she was always thrilled at her mom’s announcement of the annual tree decoration.
“Mom! Look! I think this is the best spot for this ball!” She would proudly say to her mom, wanting to get her ok to every spot she would hang her few precious balls.
And her mom would smile at her lovingly and would tell her, “Yes dear, that’s the best spot.” With that smile, Tricia would beam with excitement.
By the time they finish decorating, her dad would suddenly appear. That was the best part. Her dad would lift her to his shoulders while she held on protectively to the biggest star. Her brother and sisters would cheer her as she placed the star on top of the tree.
Then they would all march towards the kitchen and chaotically got themselves a hot chocolate. They would spend the entire morning on the dining table talking about what to eat on Christmas dinner. That was the second best part.
“You ok?” Her sister, still in her pajamas, appeared behind her.
Oblivious of her presence, she almost dropped a Christmas ball. “Yeah, I’ll be done in a while.” She quietly smiled.
“Alright. Wake me up if you need help ok? But I don’t think you want me to help you anyway.” She teased and ran off.
It was roughly 10 years ago since they last decorated their Christmas tree together. She could barely recall how they spent those ten Christmases without her mom.
After she placed the last Christmas ball, she thought, “Isn’t this the best spot for this ball?”
The sun was already shining when she finished decorating. She stared at the biggest star and left it beneath the tree. She was on the verge of crying, realizing that she did everything alone.
She was already cleaning the boxes when everybody suddenly rushed in the family room.
“Wow!!! This is so great! You made it!” Her sister beamed.
“We’ve never had a Christmas tree for what, a century?” Her brother exclaimed.
She couldn’t say a thing in surprise. She turned her head when she heard a voice saying, “You did this sweetie?”
It was her dad.
“Well…Uh, huh.” She said sheepishly.
“Yes daddy. I saw her doing it at four in the morning!” Her sister said.
Her dad picked up the biggest star and handed it to her. “It’s the tradition.”
Tricia’s eyes widened as she remembered the Christmas feeling she had 10 years ago. As her siblings cheered, she placed the biggest star on top of the tree with a big smile.
Her dad hugged her. “Come, we made you a hot chocolate.”
Tricia remembered how she was not allowed to put decors on their Christmas tree when she was younger. She would be given just a few Christmas balls and she would hang it on the bottom of the tree. Even so, she was always thrilled at her mom’s announcement of the annual tree decoration.
“Mom! Look! I think this is the best spot for this ball!” She would proudly say to her mom, wanting to get her ok to every spot she would hang her few precious balls.
And her mom would smile at her lovingly and would tell her, “Yes dear, that’s the best spot.” With that smile, Tricia would beam with excitement.
By the time they finish decorating, her dad would suddenly appear. That was the best part. Her dad would lift her to his shoulders while she held on protectively to the biggest star. Her brother and sisters would cheer her as she placed the star on top of the tree.
Then they would all march towards the kitchen and chaotically got themselves a hot chocolate. They would spend the entire morning on the dining table talking about what to eat on Christmas dinner. That was the second best part.
“You ok?” Her sister, still in her pajamas, appeared behind her.
Oblivious of her presence, she almost dropped a Christmas ball. “Yeah, I’ll be done in a while.” She quietly smiled.
“Alright. Wake me up if you need help ok? But I don’t think you want me to help you anyway.” She teased and ran off.
It was roughly 10 years ago since they last decorated their Christmas tree together. She could barely recall how they spent those ten Christmases without her mom.
After she placed the last Christmas ball, she thought, “Isn’t this the best spot for this ball?”
The sun was already shining when she finished decorating. She stared at the biggest star and left it beneath the tree. She was on the verge of crying, realizing that she did everything alone.
She was already cleaning the boxes when everybody suddenly rushed in the family room.
“Wow!!! This is so great! You made it!” Her sister beamed.
“We’ve never had a Christmas tree for what, a century?” Her brother exclaimed.
She couldn’t say a thing in surprise. She turned her head when she heard a voice saying, “You did this sweetie?”
It was her dad.
“Well…Uh, huh.” She said sheepishly.
“Yes daddy. I saw her doing it at four in the morning!” Her sister said.
Her dad picked up the biggest star and handed it to her. “It’s the tradition.”
Tricia’s eyes widened as she remembered the Christmas feeling she had 10 years ago. As her siblings cheered, she placed the biggest star on top of the tree with a big smile.
Her dad hugged her. “Come, we made you a hot chocolate.”
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Jingling Bells
Jingling bells jingling bells
Jingling all the way…
Little Ben sang with great exuberance, his little fingers slightly tapping the car’s window, a little drum hanging around his neck. The driver waved his hand without looking at him.
His eyes lost sparkle, his shoulders fell and he quietly moved to the sidewalk as the light turned green.
After a few minutes, another red light. Little Ben instantly leaped as if not feeling the cold wind wrapping him, creeping into his tattered clothes.
Jingling bells jingling bells
Jingling all the way…
He hopped from one car to another, continuing to sing the same lines. People kept shooing him away but he sang anyway. Some were amused but never gave him anything.
A lady tossed a penny from the window. Little Ben’s eyes widened with excitement as he thanked the old lady.
Upon realizing how long he’d been roaming the streets, little Ben slumped into the sidewalk.
“One…two…three…one…two…three…” He silently counted as if he knew exactly how to.
Suddenly a girl, about 4 years old, appeared behind him.
“Kuya…” she said in a soft whisper.
Frightened, little Ben hurriedly hid the coins he saved from that day. “Oh Sarah, it’s you! I told you to wait for me at home.”
Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes. “Kuya, I’m hungry…”
His throat tightened and realized that they hadn’t been eating anything for three days.
“Don’t cry… Look, 1-2-3-1-2-3! Kuya earned much! We’ll eat something special today.” He managed to cheer his voice up.
Little Ben left Sarah near the bridge and got themselves something for that day. Then he ran back to their home where she left Sarah and hurriedly climbed down. The pile of cartons was already set. Sarah was already sleeping quietly at the end waiting for him.
“Sarah, wake up…” Little Ben shook her softly. “It’s time.” He said with a silent excitement.
The two of them watched the different colors of fireworks appear in the sky, eating bread and a cup of warm noodles. “Merry Christmas Sarah…”
Jingling all the way…
Little Ben sang with great exuberance, his little fingers slightly tapping the car’s window, a little drum hanging around his neck. The driver waved his hand without looking at him.
His eyes lost sparkle, his shoulders fell and he quietly moved to the sidewalk as the light turned green.
After a few minutes, another red light. Little Ben instantly leaped as if not feeling the cold wind wrapping him, creeping into his tattered clothes.
Jingling bells jingling bells
Jingling all the way…
He hopped from one car to another, continuing to sing the same lines. People kept shooing him away but he sang anyway. Some were amused but never gave him anything.
A lady tossed a penny from the window. Little Ben’s eyes widened with excitement as he thanked the old lady.
Upon realizing how long he’d been roaming the streets, little Ben slumped into the sidewalk.
“One…two…three…one…two…three…” He silently counted as if he knew exactly how to.
Suddenly a girl, about 4 years old, appeared behind him.
“Kuya…” she said in a soft whisper.
Frightened, little Ben hurriedly hid the coins he saved from that day. “Oh Sarah, it’s you! I told you to wait for me at home.”
Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes. “Kuya, I’m hungry…”
His throat tightened and realized that they hadn’t been eating anything for three days.
“Don’t cry… Look, 1-2-3-1-2-3! Kuya earned much! We’ll eat something special today.” He managed to cheer his voice up.
Little Ben left Sarah near the bridge and got themselves something for that day. Then he ran back to their home where she left Sarah and hurriedly climbed down. The pile of cartons was already set. Sarah was already sleeping quietly at the end waiting for him.
“Sarah, wake up…” Little Ben shook her softly. “It’s time.” He said with a silent excitement.
The two of them watched the different colors of fireworks appear in the sky, eating bread and a cup of warm noodles. “Merry Christmas Sarah…”
Friday, June 20, 2008
A Beautiful Myth
Once there was a story untold yet treasured. It was a tale that began in a rather bizarre way, but eventually turned into a wonderful thing that could ever happen to someone. The wonder of it remained perplexing, but some things are better left unfathomed for its marvel to be well-appreciated.
Over the years, the plot of the story remained clear as if the chapters were read over and over again until each episode, each detail, settled solid into the deepest spot of the mind. The value of it was nurtured and was regarded as something priceless; a once-in-a-lifetime experience that could never be traded with anything else.
It was a story that was built over the impossibilities. It was regarded as hard evidence about two people who are so different and so far apart, and yet in just a tiny, single, incredibly unusual point that may never occur again, something so beautiful can be established.
It was no more than a invisible friendship that started as a joke, shared apart, deepened despite the distance, continued to infinity. It was as plain as that, yet it was not ordinary. In that story, it had in it an unexplainable link that may remain a mystery until the end of it.
No matter how strange it was, for the longest time it was remembered. And though people held it foolish for somebody to actually believe in such a thing, it was regarded a reality; obscure, yet lovely.
In a perfect world, it would’ve remained without defect. But even the most fascinating tales had flaws. And like everything else that seemed to exist, somewhere along the way, it also had setbacks. There were unnecessary chapters that occurred, mistaken as something that would make an already flawless story more perfect. But sadly, at the end of the day, the twist proved to be just unparallel to the entire context.
It couldn’t be construed as total wreck after that tiny, almost-non-existent flaw, but for somebody who treasured such a surreal story, it was enough to challenge a belief in the reality of an oddly wonderful friendship.
The once vivid chapters became vague. While recalling how it started was as easy as a-b-c, it came to a point wherein words became cold and distant to roughly illustrate, more so to explain in depth what happened along the plot.
If it were to be rewritten, the unwanted parts would be shredded. That small part of it made the entire picture doubtful. But looking back to where it started up to the point where everything was unbelievably perfect, it still never failed to give a strange feeling of comfort. And maybe…it was the only thing that was meant to last.
Believing in it may be strongly considered unwise and plain stupid. I should know. As they insisted, it was too good to be true. Even so, it was something still causing silly smiles when remembered…a story still read over and over again and still treasured despite its imperfection.
Was it just a myth? Maybe. But the way I see it right now, that thing in it called friendship may be just another story, but in that myth, it was beautiful and real.
Over the years, the plot of the story remained clear as if the chapters were read over and over again until each episode, each detail, settled solid into the deepest spot of the mind. The value of it was nurtured and was regarded as something priceless; a once-in-a-lifetime experience that could never be traded with anything else.
It was a story that was built over the impossibilities. It was regarded as hard evidence about two people who are so different and so far apart, and yet in just a tiny, single, incredibly unusual point that may never occur again, something so beautiful can be established.
It was no more than a invisible friendship that started as a joke, shared apart, deepened despite the distance, continued to infinity. It was as plain as that, yet it was not ordinary. In that story, it had in it an unexplainable link that may remain a mystery until the end of it.
No matter how strange it was, for the longest time it was remembered. And though people held it foolish for somebody to actually believe in such a thing, it was regarded a reality; obscure, yet lovely.
In a perfect world, it would’ve remained without defect. But even the most fascinating tales had flaws. And like everything else that seemed to exist, somewhere along the way, it also had setbacks. There were unnecessary chapters that occurred, mistaken as something that would make an already flawless story more perfect. But sadly, at the end of the day, the twist proved to be just unparallel to the entire context.
It couldn’t be construed as total wreck after that tiny, almost-non-existent flaw, but for somebody who treasured such a surreal story, it was enough to challenge a belief in the reality of an oddly wonderful friendship.
The once vivid chapters became vague. While recalling how it started was as easy as a-b-c, it came to a point wherein words became cold and distant to roughly illustrate, more so to explain in depth what happened along the plot.
If it were to be rewritten, the unwanted parts would be shredded. That small part of it made the entire picture doubtful. But looking back to where it started up to the point where everything was unbelievably perfect, it still never failed to give a strange feeling of comfort. And maybe…it was the only thing that was meant to last.
Believing in it may be strongly considered unwise and plain stupid. I should know. As they insisted, it was too good to be true. Even so, it was something still causing silly smiles when remembered…a story still read over and over again and still treasured despite its imperfection.
Was it just a myth? Maybe. But the way I see it right now, that thing in it called friendship may be just another story, but in that myth, it was beautiful and real.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
THE WEDDING
The door slid open…
I think I’ve finally known you
I can see it in your eyes
I think I’ve finally shown you
That what we have is still worthwhile
She looked radiant even if she were looking down. Slowly she turned her head up…
Don’t you know that love is like a thread
That keeps unraveling within
And I see it together in the end
The butterflies were released…and she started to walk down the aisle.
In your eyes I can see my dreams’ reflections
In your eyes I found the answers to my questions
In your eyes I can see the reasons why our love’s alive
She was heading straight to the man at the end of the aisle, the man she was about to spend the rest of her life with.
In your eyes we’re safely drifting back to shore
And I think I’ve finally learned to love you more.
I couldn’t hold my tears back. I felt that I was starting to lose her…
She met her old man halfway and it was one of the most heartwarming scenes happened in my life. I couldn’t believe my own eyes.
I can consider her my favorite person on earth. With her never-ending patience and her incomparable heart of being there even before I ask, there’s no doubt of the reason why I may have that judgment. And seeing her walking down that aisle, closer to the man she’s gonna start a new life with, and farther away from me, I felt a sudden but deep rush of sadness.
Even if I tried just to focus on the wedding and their own happiness, I couldn’t help wondering “What will happen to me after this?” She was the one I spent most of my time with. We watched last full shows, we drove our father crazy for going to the mall almost every night, and we shared the same passion for food. (That was before I got too particular with the nutritional facts on the package.)
I remembered how we criticized the choices of flowers until we’ve found what would suffice. I remembered how we searched every store for the perfect shoes. I remembered how I joined her in practicing her grand walk in the aisle. And even if it were her big day we were talking about, she still made sure her baby would have the perfect dress for her wedding.
The exchange of vows snapped me from my thoughts.
Soon we would part lives as she builds a new one with somebody. I guess I really can never hold on to her forever. This man must have caused her a great deal of happiness and there’s nothing on earth I could ever pray for but the best for her. And I know in my heart that as lovely as she looked on her wedding day, though she would have a life of her own, my sister would remain the most amazing person I ever knew in my life.
I think I’ve finally known you
I can see it in your eyes
I think I’ve finally shown you
That what we have is still worthwhile
She looked radiant even if she were looking down. Slowly she turned her head up…
Don’t you know that love is like a thread
That keeps unraveling within
And I see it together in the end
The butterflies were released…and she started to walk down the aisle.
In your eyes I can see my dreams’ reflections
In your eyes I found the answers to my questions
In your eyes I can see the reasons why our love’s alive
She was heading straight to the man at the end of the aisle, the man she was about to spend the rest of her life with.
In your eyes we’re safely drifting back to shore
And I think I’ve finally learned to love you more.
I couldn’t hold my tears back. I felt that I was starting to lose her…
She met her old man halfway and it was one of the most heartwarming scenes happened in my life. I couldn’t believe my own eyes.
I can consider her my favorite person on earth. With her never-ending patience and her incomparable heart of being there even before I ask, there’s no doubt of the reason why I may have that judgment. And seeing her walking down that aisle, closer to the man she’s gonna start a new life with, and farther away from me, I felt a sudden but deep rush of sadness.
Even if I tried just to focus on the wedding and their own happiness, I couldn’t help wondering “What will happen to me after this?” She was the one I spent most of my time with. We watched last full shows, we drove our father crazy for going to the mall almost every night, and we shared the same passion for food. (That was before I got too particular with the nutritional facts on the package.)
I remembered how we criticized the choices of flowers until we’ve found what would suffice. I remembered how we searched every store for the perfect shoes. I remembered how I joined her in practicing her grand walk in the aisle. And even if it were her big day we were talking about, she still made sure her baby would have the perfect dress for her wedding.
The exchange of vows snapped me from my thoughts.
Soon we would part lives as she builds a new one with somebody. I guess I really can never hold on to her forever. This man must have caused her a great deal of happiness and there’s nothing on earth I could ever pray for but the best for her. And I know in my heart that as lovely as she looked on her wedding day, though she would have a life of her own, my sister would remain the most amazing person I ever knew in my life.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Changing Lanes
In my head, I found myself driving on a single lane, easy road at approximately 40 miles per hour, satisfied at my rate, well-buckled on my seat, comfortable at the sounds of my stereo. I had a content smile on my face saying “This is what I call life.”
I came to a busy street with horns honking everywhere, intersections blocked by cars trying to beat the red light, and each vehicle trying to make a way for itself. Naturally, my moment of ease was disturbed. For a moment, I was preoccupied with the traffic. I forgot the comfort I was feeling a few minutes ago, and I busied myself with what was actually there, with what was in front of me. At a red light, I compared my car to all those that are in the same lane, leaving brief comments on each I envied as well as on others I felt I was better off. When it turned green, I never gave any other car a chance to get into my way.
Traffics are always a headache. After a few times of cursing to the pedestrians who were still crossing the street at my green light, and after almost hitting the bumper of the car in front of me just to not let anybody else get ahead of me, I got weary and wanted to get out of the main road. So I turned right, went straight ahead, and made a couple of U-turns just to find an easy way to get out of it. Having no sense of direction, it took me a little more while to find a clearer road.
I found myself in the middle of the same road I was on before. Coupled with frustration, I fled. Time and again, I was able to unbelievably overtake a few trucks, and to avoid some hollows on the road under repair that I used to never miss. I was filled with pride that I was able to exceed my limits in driving. It was another adventure for me.
Yet, after the fun, I slowly became bored. I found nothing challenging anymore. I became uneasy with my speed so I slowed down a bit. Lost in my thoughts, a question popped. Where was I heading? Consumed by panic and fear, I realized a truth: I was heading nowhere. I looked outside my window to check how long I have travelled with no precise destination. I checked on my rearview mirror to see if there were any other vehicles running on the same road.
So I decided to pull over. A few cars, including a patrol, checked on me if I had a problem. At the back of my mind, I was asking, “Could you give me a road map?” But I didn’t want them to know I was lost. So I just pretended I was taking a break for a long trip ahead. Anyway, it was partly true.
It was already mid-afternoon. Still unsure as I was, I decided to get on with my ride. I drove at an acceptable speed. Seeing the fire trees that started to bloom that season, I began to relax. My worries passed and peace wrapped me. I enjoyed the solitude.
Throughout that long day, I realized, it’s not with the comfort, it’s not with the ability to get away with traffic, it’s not with the speed, nor is it with the ability to get ahead. A worthwhile ride is about being able to enjoy and appreciate every part of it, driving not too fast and not too slow, and still fully understanding where you’re going.
And now at the end of the day, the same question popped: Where was I heading? This time I smiled. I was heading back home.
It’s always reassuring to know that after my road trips, there would always be Him taking me home.
I came to a busy street with horns honking everywhere, intersections blocked by cars trying to beat the red light, and each vehicle trying to make a way for itself. Naturally, my moment of ease was disturbed. For a moment, I was preoccupied with the traffic. I forgot the comfort I was feeling a few minutes ago, and I busied myself with what was actually there, with what was in front of me. At a red light, I compared my car to all those that are in the same lane, leaving brief comments on each I envied as well as on others I felt I was better off. When it turned green, I never gave any other car a chance to get into my way.
Traffics are always a headache. After a few times of cursing to the pedestrians who were still crossing the street at my green light, and after almost hitting the bumper of the car in front of me just to not let anybody else get ahead of me, I got weary and wanted to get out of the main road. So I turned right, went straight ahead, and made a couple of U-turns just to find an easy way to get out of it. Having no sense of direction, it took me a little more while to find a clearer road.
I found myself in the middle of the same road I was on before. Coupled with frustration, I fled. Time and again, I was able to unbelievably overtake a few trucks, and to avoid some hollows on the road under repair that I used to never miss. I was filled with pride that I was able to exceed my limits in driving. It was another adventure for me.
Yet, after the fun, I slowly became bored. I found nothing challenging anymore. I became uneasy with my speed so I slowed down a bit. Lost in my thoughts, a question popped. Where was I heading? Consumed by panic and fear, I realized a truth: I was heading nowhere. I looked outside my window to check how long I have travelled with no precise destination. I checked on my rearview mirror to see if there were any other vehicles running on the same road.
So I decided to pull over. A few cars, including a patrol, checked on me if I had a problem. At the back of my mind, I was asking, “Could you give me a road map?” But I didn’t want them to know I was lost. So I just pretended I was taking a break for a long trip ahead. Anyway, it was partly true.
It was already mid-afternoon. Still unsure as I was, I decided to get on with my ride. I drove at an acceptable speed. Seeing the fire trees that started to bloom that season, I began to relax. My worries passed and peace wrapped me. I enjoyed the solitude.
Throughout that long day, I realized, it’s not with the comfort, it’s not with the ability to get away with traffic, it’s not with the speed, nor is it with the ability to get ahead. A worthwhile ride is about being able to enjoy and appreciate every part of it, driving not too fast and not too slow, and still fully understanding where you’re going.
And now at the end of the day, the same question popped: Where was I heading? This time I smiled. I was heading back home.
It’s always reassuring to know that after my road trips, there would always be Him taking me home.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
George
He looked at her with those loving eyes, that she could see right through them his very soul. He held her with assurance that he would always be there.
“I know I’m not a world renowned person and I know I’m not a lot of things you’ve gone for in the past… But I would never leave you... I would never hurt you... And I will never stop loving you...” Those were his exact words like it was a fact as gravity pulling down everything towards the earth’s very core.
He was always there, at the right place at the right time. Whenever she needed somebody to just listen and tell her that everything will turn out all right, he was there. He was everything any woman could ever dream of. He had everything she wanted in her man.
And again with those loving eyes looking at her, she slowly moved her head down to avoid that pure and sincere gaze. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep thinking. And when she finally got the courage to raise her head, she was filled with tears. “If only I could love you…”
It’s a mystery why we cannot compel our hearts to love somebody. And most of the time this somebody just seems to be the nicest person in the planet, somebody who lights up by our mere presence, and somebody who just stares at us with a promise of doing everything just to make us happy.
And here’s a man who was willing to do everything for her, who would do everything he could just to be “seen” by her, who would not give up by hearing a mere “no” from her, who promised to wash away all the hurt caused by her past. He would do everything just to be the one for her, if only, if only she would give him the chance.
The truth is, she could. She could have allowed him to treat her his princess and let him give her everything she needed. She could’ve tried. Only she didn’t want to. If only there were even a tiny spark of possibility for the two of them, she would have given it a shot. But she knew in her heart that she will never be able to return that look from his loving eyes, because hers is looking the exact opposite direction. It makes no sense but it happens.
He was everything any woman could ever dream of. He had everything she wanted in her man. But the odd and sad truth is, George just isn't him.
“I know I’m not a world renowned person and I know I’m not a lot of things you’ve gone for in the past… But I would never leave you... I would never hurt you... And I will never stop loving you...” Those were his exact words like it was a fact as gravity pulling down everything towards the earth’s very core.
He was always there, at the right place at the right time. Whenever she needed somebody to just listen and tell her that everything will turn out all right, he was there. He was everything any woman could ever dream of. He had everything she wanted in her man.
And again with those loving eyes looking at her, she slowly moved her head down to avoid that pure and sincere gaze. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep thinking. And when she finally got the courage to raise her head, she was filled with tears. “If only I could love you…”
It’s a mystery why we cannot compel our hearts to love somebody. And most of the time this somebody just seems to be the nicest person in the planet, somebody who lights up by our mere presence, and somebody who just stares at us with a promise of doing everything just to make us happy.
And here’s a man who was willing to do everything for her, who would do everything he could just to be “seen” by her, who would not give up by hearing a mere “no” from her, who promised to wash away all the hurt caused by her past. He would do everything just to be the one for her, if only, if only she would give him the chance.
The truth is, she could. She could have allowed him to treat her his princess and let him give her everything she needed. She could’ve tried. Only she didn’t want to. If only there were even a tiny spark of possibility for the two of them, she would have given it a shot. But she knew in her heart that she will never be able to return that look from his loving eyes, because hers is looking the exact opposite direction. It makes no sense but it happens.
He was everything any woman could ever dream of. He had everything she wanted in her man. But the odd and sad truth is, George just isn't him.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Trying to Get the Feeling Again
There is a feeling that has been at rest for quite some time. Before, it was full of hope and trust, but eventually it has grown weary waiting and decided to lock itself inside, where nothing could disturb it. Now, a guard stays before its door, stern and overprotective.
When a feeling has been inactive for quite some time, how should it be awakened? Or, should it be awakened at all?
What if an intruder tries to get into the feeling? Does the feeling jump for joy or does it shut itself out?
There comes into the picture the examiner. This one has a long list of questions, or probably a book. It has to probe. It has to scrutinize the intruder, and in this case, it’s already an old guest. It has to make sure that the standards are passed, the intentions are made clear, and the sincerity is validated. It may take a while and if the intruder is patient, it will endure all the questions of the examiner. The examiner has to make sure it has gone through all the procedures. Why? Because it knows it needs to explain everything to the guard. It’s the safe keeper of the key to the feeling.
After the examiner has fulfilled its responsibilities, it goes to the locked feeling and talks with the guard. They discuss the result of the investigation. The guard is always suspicious. It doesn’t want anything to get into the feeling. The examiner explains the facts but the guard is full of doubts. It reminds the examiner of the ruling: Old Guests Are Forbidden.
“You’ve seen what the feeling went through in the past, how could you be talking to me about the same intruder?” The guard says disappointedly.
“It’s my job to examine all intruders and give the feeling my report.” The examiner frowns.
“The intruder may have won you, but I won’t let it get into the feeling again.” It fights back stubbornly.
“I didn’t say it has already passed the test,” says the examiner. “All I’m saying is the feeling needs to check my results by itself. It’s not us this intruder needs, it’s looking for her.” The guard makes face, not trying to hear a thing.
“I don’t have time to convince such a stubborn feeling as you. Do you think it was easy for me to deal with this intruder? I saw her sadness too and I was exploding with hostility towards it. But is it my job to judge?” The examiner says and walks away.
Seeing it has won the argument, the guard whispers by the door, “Don’t worry. I will never let anybody get into this door. I will never allow anyone to touch you again.”
Meanwhile, the examiner goes back and ventilates its annoyance with an associate. Now, this associate is new and is still very naïve.
“I am just presenting the facts. That guard is too domineering.” The examiner says furiously.
The associate knows it’s not in the position to comment about anything. Nevertheless, it says quietly, “Maybe it doesn’t want to cause the feeling any more pain. It seems reasonable to me.”
“How can you conclude that? You’re just a novice!” The examiner scowls. “I have my previous reports intact. The feeling was happiest with that intruder! Yes, they had misunderstandings and the timing wasn’t right, but who are we to judge who is and isn’t right for the feeling?” The examiner leaves the novice the reports and marches away.
The novice studies the reports and by its innocence, it is easily swayed by the data. The examiner is right, it mutters.
Late at night, the novice drops by the locked room.
“What do you want?” the guard pries.
“Oh, I was instructed to tell you that there is an intruder outside who wants to talk to the feeling and the other guards can’t stop him. I think they need you there.” The novice replies.
With another prying look, the guard says “How can I trust a novice like you?”
The novice shrugs and doesn’t say a word. A few seconds pass and the guard remains troubled by the reported commotion. It doesn’t want to leave the feeling with the novice, but it knows that if the intruder gets in, the feeling will be in more difficult situation.
With a deep concern on its face, the guard tells the novice, “It is my responsibility to keep the feeling safe. You have not known the entire story yet, but that intruder is very dangerous. Do you understand how serious this is?”
“We’re all here to protect the feeling.” The novice simply replies.
With that, the guard instantly leaps from its seat and warns the novice. “Don’t come near the door, you novice.” Then it hurries away.
The novice nervously stands by the door and knocks. “Are you there?” The novice waits for a reply but the feeling doesn’t answer.
“I just came here to tell you that the intruder is here. The examiner has been meaning to give you this,” the novice slips the results through. “Your guard is too protective of you and I understand that, but I know that in the end, the decision is yours.” And the novice leaves.
The danger in leaving a feeling out in the cold is that it may turn out to be hard enough that it won’t be melted by the highest degree of heat. The scary part could be that after such a long time, it won’t be able to recognize what has stirred itself in the first place.
As days pass, everybody is continuously disturbed by the intruder from the outside although it never gets to pass the guard. Despite all the disorder outside its door, the feeling remains unmoved. Does it mean the feeling has already been gone or has it just fallen into a very deep sleep that no ordinary intrusion may awaken it?
Who knows if the feeling hears everything from the inside. Who knows if it even looked at the reports of the examiner. Who knows if the guard were really successful in preventing the feeling from any form of intruder by just standing by the door.
“Could the feeling still be there,” the novice wonders.
When a feeling has been inactive for quite some time, how should it be awakened? Or, should it be awakened at all?
What if an intruder tries to get into the feeling? Does the feeling jump for joy or does it shut itself out?
There comes into the picture the examiner. This one has a long list of questions, or probably a book. It has to probe. It has to scrutinize the intruder, and in this case, it’s already an old guest. It has to make sure that the standards are passed, the intentions are made clear, and the sincerity is validated. It may take a while and if the intruder is patient, it will endure all the questions of the examiner. The examiner has to make sure it has gone through all the procedures. Why? Because it knows it needs to explain everything to the guard. It’s the safe keeper of the key to the feeling.
After the examiner has fulfilled its responsibilities, it goes to the locked feeling and talks with the guard. They discuss the result of the investigation. The guard is always suspicious. It doesn’t want anything to get into the feeling. The examiner explains the facts but the guard is full of doubts. It reminds the examiner of the ruling: Old Guests Are Forbidden.
“You’ve seen what the feeling went through in the past, how could you be talking to me about the same intruder?” The guard says disappointedly.
“It’s my job to examine all intruders and give the feeling my report.” The examiner frowns.
“The intruder may have won you, but I won’t let it get into the feeling again.” It fights back stubbornly.
“I didn’t say it has already passed the test,” says the examiner. “All I’m saying is the feeling needs to check my results by itself. It’s not us this intruder needs, it’s looking for her.” The guard makes face, not trying to hear a thing.
“I don’t have time to convince such a stubborn feeling as you. Do you think it was easy for me to deal with this intruder? I saw her sadness too and I was exploding with hostility towards it. But is it my job to judge?” The examiner says and walks away.
Seeing it has won the argument, the guard whispers by the door, “Don’t worry. I will never let anybody get into this door. I will never allow anyone to touch you again.”
Meanwhile, the examiner goes back and ventilates its annoyance with an associate. Now, this associate is new and is still very naïve.
“I am just presenting the facts. That guard is too domineering.” The examiner says furiously.
The associate knows it’s not in the position to comment about anything. Nevertheless, it says quietly, “Maybe it doesn’t want to cause the feeling any more pain. It seems reasonable to me.”
“How can you conclude that? You’re just a novice!” The examiner scowls. “I have my previous reports intact. The feeling was happiest with that intruder! Yes, they had misunderstandings and the timing wasn’t right, but who are we to judge who is and isn’t right for the feeling?” The examiner leaves the novice the reports and marches away.
The novice studies the reports and by its innocence, it is easily swayed by the data. The examiner is right, it mutters.
Late at night, the novice drops by the locked room.
“What do you want?” the guard pries.
“Oh, I was instructed to tell you that there is an intruder outside who wants to talk to the feeling and the other guards can’t stop him. I think they need you there.” The novice replies.
With another prying look, the guard says “How can I trust a novice like you?”
The novice shrugs and doesn’t say a word. A few seconds pass and the guard remains troubled by the reported commotion. It doesn’t want to leave the feeling with the novice, but it knows that if the intruder gets in, the feeling will be in more difficult situation.
With a deep concern on its face, the guard tells the novice, “It is my responsibility to keep the feeling safe. You have not known the entire story yet, but that intruder is very dangerous. Do you understand how serious this is?”
“We’re all here to protect the feeling.” The novice simply replies.
With that, the guard instantly leaps from its seat and warns the novice. “Don’t come near the door, you novice.” Then it hurries away.
The novice nervously stands by the door and knocks. “Are you there?” The novice waits for a reply but the feeling doesn’t answer.
“I just came here to tell you that the intruder is here. The examiner has been meaning to give you this,” the novice slips the results through. “Your guard is too protective of you and I understand that, but I know that in the end, the decision is yours.” And the novice leaves.
The danger in leaving a feeling out in the cold is that it may turn out to be hard enough that it won’t be melted by the highest degree of heat. The scary part could be that after such a long time, it won’t be able to recognize what has stirred itself in the first place.
As days pass, everybody is continuously disturbed by the intruder from the outside although it never gets to pass the guard. Despite all the disorder outside its door, the feeling remains unmoved. Does it mean the feeling has already been gone or has it just fallen into a very deep sleep that no ordinary intrusion may awaken it?
Who knows if the feeling hears everything from the inside. Who knows if it even looked at the reports of the examiner. Who knows if the guard were really successful in preventing the feeling from any form of intruder by just standing by the door.
“Could the feeling still be there,” the novice wonders.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
The Answer
It was a difficult day.
The Questions:
Her phone alarmed at 6:05am. She automatically turned it off, and curled underneath her blanket. Another day, she thought. Only if she could make up excuses for not going to work, she would’ve probably slept the whole day. But she knew she had to get up and drag herself to shower. Can it be like this forever?
Almost 10 hours of the day, she had to deal with her job, which failed to engross her lately. She had to tire out herself “finding money,” as she put it. She knew sales was not her forte. Dealing with tough clients wasn’t already interesting, but draining. She tried to search for the enthusiasm she once had. Is this the career path she had in mind?
At home, she hardly saw her dad. They hadn’t talked for nearly 3 months. Not about work, not about what’s happening, not about anything at all. Where did her control-freak dad go?
She remembered how angry he was for not being able to impose what he wanted in her life. And she, herself, got mad at him for not accepting that not everything in her life could be manipulated by his plans, or at least what he believed was right for her. And they argued for 3 minutes or so, and fell silent for 3 months. Why can’t he understand?
She had remaining 3 to 4 hours before she would go back to bed. She had a few options on how to spend ‘em.
Watch TV. Maybe Tyra would feature some anorexic 5’11” women wanting to be 80lbs. Then she’d feel some people were more ridiculous than her. Can’t people find any contentment at all?
Chat with friends. That would divert her spotlight away from her own self. Would they have any other interesting things to say? Or would they be sensitive enough to hear what she had to say?
Dinner. She’d still have to figure out if this would add up to the free radicals in her body or if her liver won’t be overloaded. Is this healthy or toxic?
Read. She got all those halfway-read newly-purchased books piled up on her nightstand waiting for her to start living with the principles of maximizing time, heading towards success, and unleashing innermost capabilities. Yeah, the ideas were great. But why don’t they suffice?
She had the usual questions a normal 23-year old would have. (That’s insanity aside.) Life starts to become a burden, not an enjoyable thing. A day passes without any difference from the previous day and a voice within her keeps on whispering that life couldn’t be just like that. Living is supposed to be a short, yet exciting and wonderful experience you can’t wait to taste; not a dreadful, boring journey on a tunnel wherein seeing the end of it is your only goal.
She satisfied herself with a book that had been with her for months but she felt too exhausted to even consider opening. It struck her with its promises to answer life’s toughest questions. Really, huh? Now there’s such a thing as a universal answer to all the questions she had in mind. Intrigued, she leafed through it.
Upon recovery from the state of shock after reading, the reality flashed to her as if wondering why she was surprised with the answer she got. She had always tried to find some meaning in her life and a sense of purpose for her existence but instead she found herself facing the same “difficult days”, doing the same things. Little did she know that all this time, she got it all wrong.
The Answer
There’s a huge difference between existing and actually living. To exist is to breathe, to move even the most futile movement, and to be able to stay alive, even if it meant a machine is keeping your vital organs at work. To exist is to drift in this world with no purpose.
On the contrary, to live is to understand that you are tailored to a more meaningful existence. It is knowing what makes you special and what you’re supposed to do to make use of the gifts given to you.
To live is not self-serving. You may have acquired all the riches in the world, won all the trophies of success and yet come home after the most victorious event feeling empty, alone, and strangely senseless.
If you cease to find the purpose of your existence, you cease to exist. Like a wave just going with the flow of others, not knowing its destiny, it seems that it’s meant to only crash in the shore. But the truth is, even how long the journey is and how hard the crash must be, even a tiny wave it is, it’s designed to still go back to the where it belongs – the ocean.
How then do you define the answers to all these seemingly endless questions on the depth of life’s meaning?
She had kept herself captive of doubts and weariness with her life. She’d been trying to figure out if she’s only meant to crash in the shore. But then it struck her that she’d been searching on the wrong places.
Is she meant to crash in the shore, she wondered. And the answer shone on her like the sun’s rays in the morning sky. She is designed to go back to where she belongs. She is destined to carry out the master plan of the one who made her.
When you remember where you came from, it is easier for you to figure out where you’re heading. When you understand that you’re not just a single wave, but a part of the bigger ocean, it is already laid out to you what you need to prioritize. When you realize that you are not the steward of your own life, but mere clay molded by the Potter’s hand, it is natural for you to let go and allow the Maker to take control of your steering wheel.
Most of the time we trouble ourselves with every detail in our life, believing that they are the truly essential things that would keep us going- dreams, security, stability, health, relationships. But the question remained, to keep us going where? Is fulfilling a dream the end goal? Would having uncountable wealth satisfy our deepest longing? Would living up to a hundred years make us feel we have made sense on earth?
Only through the proper perspective in life we can truly decode what it is to live. And the perspective does not come from our own expertise; rather it comes from the wisdom of the Most High who is all-knowing. We keep our eyes on what’s material, on what’s physical, but He knows what is truly essential, what is eternal. If we know how to align the journey of our life with His master plan, the drifting comes to an end, and the living begins.
Searching for His ultimate plan for us is not simple and instant, though. It is not as if you’d stare up in the sky and the answer will just reveal itself to you. It takes conscious diligence and loads of grace from God to uncover the answer. It may take a lifetime search, but it’s the kind of quest that’s worth taking. Rather than journeying alone and clueless, it is more reassuring to go through this life knowing that the hand of the Father is with us, directing us which path to take.
When we allow God’s hand to lead us, dealing with difficulties on our jobs becomes a tiny hump in the road that won’t keep us off-track. When we allow God to guide us, misunderstanding and pains in our relationships will be washed away by His immeasurable love and compassion. Nothing in our life is too trivial for Him, for He knows every detail in our life. He knows us more than we know ourselves. So if we feel lost and wonder what living is all about, try to search for Him, and you’re going to get the most wonderful answer there is.
The Questions:
Her phone alarmed at 6:05am. She automatically turned it off, and curled underneath her blanket. Another day, she thought. Only if she could make up excuses for not going to work, she would’ve probably slept the whole day. But she knew she had to get up and drag herself to shower. Can it be like this forever?
Almost 10 hours of the day, she had to deal with her job, which failed to engross her lately. She had to tire out herself “finding money,” as she put it. She knew sales was not her forte. Dealing with tough clients wasn’t already interesting, but draining. She tried to search for the enthusiasm she once had. Is this the career path she had in mind?
At home, she hardly saw her dad. They hadn’t talked for nearly 3 months. Not about work, not about what’s happening, not about anything at all. Where did her control-freak dad go?
She remembered how angry he was for not being able to impose what he wanted in her life. And she, herself, got mad at him for not accepting that not everything in her life could be manipulated by his plans, or at least what he believed was right for her. And they argued for 3 minutes or so, and fell silent for 3 months. Why can’t he understand?
She had remaining 3 to 4 hours before she would go back to bed. She had a few options on how to spend ‘em.
Watch TV. Maybe Tyra would feature some anorexic 5’11” women wanting to be 80lbs. Then she’d feel some people were more ridiculous than her. Can’t people find any contentment at all?
Chat with friends. That would divert her spotlight away from her own self. Would they have any other interesting things to say? Or would they be sensitive enough to hear what she had to say?
Dinner. She’d still have to figure out if this would add up to the free radicals in her body or if her liver won’t be overloaded. Is this healthy or toxic?
Read. She got all those halfway-read newly-purchased books piled up on her nightstand waiting for her to start living with the principles of maximizing time, heading towards success, and unleashing innermost capabilities. Yeah, the ideas were great. But why don’t they suffice?
She had the usual questions a normal 23-year old would have. (That’s insanity aside.) Life starts to become a burden, not an enjoyable thing. A day passes without any difference from the previous day and a voice within her keeps on whispering that life couldn’t be just like that. Living is supposed to be a short, yet exciting and wonderful experience you can’t wait to taste; not a dreadful, boring journey on a tunnel wherein seeing the end of it is your only goal.
She satisfied herself with a book that had been with her for months but she felt too exhausted to even consider opening. It struck her with its promises to answer life’s toughest questions. Really, huh? Now there’s such a thing as a universal answer to all the questions she had in mind. Intrigued, she leafed through it.
Upon recovery from the state of shock after reading, the reality flashed to her as if wondering why she was surprised with the answer she got. She had always tried to find some meaning in her life and a sense of purpose for her existence but instead she found herself facing the same “difficult days”, doing the same things. Little did she know that all this time, she got it all wrong.
The Answer
There’s a huge difference between existing and actually living. To exist is to breathe, to move even the most futile movement, and to be able to stay alive, even if it meant a machine is keeping your vital organs at work. To exist is to drift in this world with no purpose.
On the contrary, to live is to understand that you are tailored to a more meaningful existence. It is knowing what makes you special and what you’re supposed to do to make use of the gifts given to you.
To live is not self-serving. You may have acquired all the riches in the world, won all the trophies of success and yet come home after the most victorious event feeling empty, alone, and strangely senseless.
If you cease to find the purpose of your existence, you cease to exist. Like a wave just going with the flow of others, not knowing its destiny, it seems that it’s meant to only crash in the shore. But the truth is, even how long the journey is and how hard the crash must be, even a tiny wave it is, it’s designed to still go back to the where it belongs – the ocean.
How then do you define the answers to all these seemingly endless questions on the depth of life’s meaning?
She had kept herself captive of doubts and weariness with her life. She’d been trying to figure out if she’s only meant to crash in the shore. But then it struck her that she’d been searching on the wrong places.
Is she meant to crash in the shore, she wondered. And the answer shone on her like the sun’s rays in the morning sky. She is designed to go back to where she belongs. She is destined to carry out the master plan of the one who made her.
When you remember where you came from, it is easier for you to figure out where you’re heading. When you understand that you’re not just a single wave, but a part of the bigger ocean, it is already laid out to you what you need to prioritize. When you realize that you are not the steward of your own life, but mere clay molded by the Potter’s hand, it is natural for you to let go and allow the Maker to take control of your steering wheel.
Most of the time we trouble ourselves with every detail in our life, believing that they are the truly essential things that would keep us going- dreams, security, stability, health, relationships. But the question remained, to keep us going where? Is fulfilling a dream the end goal? Would having uncountable wealth satisfy our deepest longing? Would living up to a hundred years make us feel we have made sense on earth?
Only through the proper perspective in life we can truly decode what it is to live. And the perspective does not come from our own expertise; rather it comes from the wisdom of the Most High who is all-knowing. We keep our eyes on what’s material, on what’s physical, but He knows what is truly essential, what is eternal. If we know how to align the journey of our life with His master plan, the drifting comes to an end, and the living begins.
Searching for His ultimate plan for us is not simple and instant, though. It is not as if you’d stare up in the sky and the answer will just reveal itself to you. It takes conscious diligence and loads of grace from God to uncover the answer. It may take a lifetime search, but it’s the kind of quest that’s worth taking. Rather than journeying alone and clueless, it is more reassuring to go through this life knowing that the hand of the Father is with us, directing us which path to take.
When we allow God’s hand to lead us, dealing with difficulties on our jobs becomes a tiny hump in the road that won’t keep us off-track. When we allow God to guide us, misunderstanding and pains in our relationships will be washed away by His immeasurable love and compassion. Nothing in our life is too trivial for Him, for He knows every detail in our life. He knows us more than we know ourselves. So if we feel lost and wonder what living is all about, try to search for Him, and you’re going to get the most wonderful answer there is.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Was It Real?
(A Poem, A Play)
SCENE 1:
He was looking straight at me,
Trying to catch my gaze.
What was in that stare?
Was he trying to tell me something?
Was he searching for answers?
But I couldn’t return his look.
I don’t know why.
Was I confused?
Was I afraid?
From the corner of my eyes,
I saw him turn away.
No expression at all
Or at least nothing I could read.
SCENE 2:
He was beside me,
Not speaking a single word.
It was heart-breaking
Being too close with somebody
And yet feeling he was drifting away.
I couldn’t contain the sadness I felt.
I was filled with confusion,
Excitement,
Anxiety,
Emptiness…
The list goes on…
Then suddenly,
All the havoc within me was interrupted
When he held my hand.
It was the first time.
And again, it was as if
There was oblivion on everything else,
Even on my own heartbeat.
Simply, I was stunned.
I didn’t dare look,
Nor did I ask anything.
I remained still,
Trying to identify what feeling it brought me.
SCENE 3:
I was looking at him,
Trying to catch his gaze.
But he looked away.
I tried to hold his hand,
But even before I could reach for them,
He locked them inside his pocket.
I tried to speak a word.
Something he never did.
But his eyes weren’t fixed on me.
Was he searching for something else?
It was my turn to look away.
Not to escape his gaze,
But to hide my tears.
I knew it was time.
But I couldn’t get into my feet.
Instead, I waited.
For him to look right over his shoulders.
And give me that look
I thought I once had.
Time was ticking.
I saw the leaves falling from the trees.
And before I knew it
There he was…
A shadow from afar…
An image I barely know…
Nothing but
A ghost who passed by…
It was when I wished the rolling of the curtains would end the scene.
ABOUT THE PLAY: It’s been almost a year since I played a lead role in a theater where I had no audience. It was a story which I personally produced, believing in its substance. It was a play whose script I, myself, wrote, choosing the plot, the climax and whose end still hangs. It was a play which I starred with no reservations at all. But eventually I realized it was a play I got myself involved with alone.
SCENE 1:
He was looking straight at me,
Trying to catch my gaze.
What was in that stare?
Was he trying to tell me something?
Was he searching for answers?
But I couldn’t return his look.
I don’t know why.
Was I confused?
Was I afraid?
From the corner of my eyes,
I saw him turn away.
No expression at all
Or at least nothing I could read.
SCENE 2:
He was beside me,
Not speaking a single word.
It was heart-breaking
Being too close with somebody
And yet feeling he was drifting away.
I couldn’t contain the sadness I felt.
I was filled with confusion,
Excitement,
Anxiety,
Emptiness…
The list goes on…
Then suddenly,
All the havoc within me was interrupted
When he held my hand.
It was the first time.
And again, it was as if
There was oblivion on everything else,
Even on my own heartbeat.
Simply, I was stunned.
I didn’t dare look,
Nor did I ask anything.
I remained still,
Trying to identify what feeling it brought me.
SCENE 3:
I was looking at him,
Trying to catch his gaze.
But he looked away.
I tried to hold his hand,
But even before I could reach for them,
He locked them inside his pocket.
I tried to speak a word.
Something he never did.
But his eyes weren’t fixed on me.
Was he searching for something else?
It was my turn to look away.
Not to escape his gaze,
But to hide my tears.
I knew it was time.
But I couldn’t get into my feet.
Instead, I waited.
For him to look right over his shoulders.
And give me that look
I thought I once had.
Time was ticking.
I saw the leaves falling from the trees.
And before I knew it
There he was…
A shadow from afar…
An image I barely know…
Nothing but
A ghost who passed by…
It was when I wished the rolling of the curtains would end the scene.
ABOUT THE PLAY: It’s been almost a year since I played a lead role in a theater where I had no audience. It was a story which I personally produced, believing in its substance. It was a play whose script I, myself, wrote, choosing the plot, the climax and whose end still hangs. It was a play which I starred with no reservations at all. But eventually I realized it was a play I got myself involved with alone.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Only A Dot There
We all go through certain kinds of misery in our life. The feeling of being alone, abandoned, worthless, and hopeless is not uncommon. We think we’ve gone through all possible troubles anyone could ever imagine. We think we’ve just had enough. Let us not lose ourselves on our sufferings. In God’s eyes, the bigger picture is far more important than the most depressing thing that we felt, the gravest thing that we endure. Those are in all sense, nothing. Life on earth is no doubt only a dot in eternity. All the pain in this world is nothing but a dust blown away by the loving care of our Father. |
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Just Another Story
There were few people near the cinemas where they agreed to meet after another 2 long years. There were sounds of arcade games nearby, people chatting near the popcorn stand, a crew calling out orders on a fastfood chain. Somebody called out her name. She didn’t know if it was said loud enough, or the voice was just familiar that she instantly turned her head in his direction. When she saw a guy in red shirt with a camera hanging around his neck, she automatically grinned.
“Heeeeey!” she exclaimed, almost running towards him, arms stretched as if she were ready for a huge birthday present. They hugged that they almost fell. She imagined how foolish they must have seemed if they weren’t able to keep their balance. But that could have added up to the excitement of that “reunion.” They laughed at their clumsiness and at that point, she remembered how great it felt to be with him once again.
There was nothing extraordinary on that meeting. They spent what, four, five hours together, had lunch, did some live performances singing and laughed like crazy. Probably that was the best part of it. Yeah it was a bit odd. Every time he said something, she automatically burst into laughter no matter how stupid it was about. You two are weird, his brother even commented. She could’ve probably spent an entire day with him just listening to his “concert” and watching him concentrate on his pasta, as if trying to figure out how the entire plate can fit into his mouth. Who am I with, a five-year old? She teasingly thought.
Before they knew it, the day was over. He walked her to the train, where they would leave the last traces of that day. For the third time in nearly 5 years of knowing each other, they said good bye. They hugged. Still, she managed to tease him but then, she felt strange. Nobody has hugged her that way, as if telling her how much she was missed, how much he didn’t want to let her go or that he didn’t want it to end. Or maybe, it was just her mind playing tricks on her…coz maybe she was the one feeling that way.
She slowly walked away, giving him a last look. She smiled and even tried to reach out for him while she was being carried away by the line towards the train. They would probably meet in another year or so, and at the thought of it, she sighed.
And… she sighed. That was all. It was as if there was nothing more she could add. She held a pencil on her right hand, slightly tapped it on her head, lost in oblivion on what to write next. On the corner of the table was a trash bin, half-full of crumpled papers. She’d been trying to do the story for weeks, but all she could do was to stare blankly at her nth sheet of paper, with drawings of circles and twirls. Of course she could’ve used her computer in front of her, but she felt more of a writer with the pencil. Besides, saving the trees was not her top priority at that moment.
She let another sigh. She decided to get herself a cup of tea, the one with flower contents and that said: “a soothing drink to aid relaxation.” She held the back of her head and realized she badly needed it.
She threw herself on her bed and reached for a Mitch Albom’s. Maybe she needed some inspiring thoughts that would disguise the sadness she felt. She flipped the pages but the words barely registered to her mind. Unconsciously her thoughts slowly drifted from the time she tried to sense the relaxed feeling from her tea, to the time she didn’t even have to exert any effort to feel complete, just months ago.
Shaking her head, she tried to push away what had been haunting her. She got up and went back to drawing circles and twirls on the paper…
A month after, they accidentally saw each other in messenger. They chatted as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. It was the continuation of the … of the day they met, if there really were a … on it. And she actually didn’t think there could be anything else besides their usual senseless conversation that only they could understand. One thing led to the next. She was more puzzled on how things were going. He would call her on special occasions, chat with her everyday, not failing to be extra thoughtful. He would plan up a getaway with her, telling her it was his first time to really plan on something. Now, what was that about?
She crumpled the paper again, frustrated. She felt it was useless telling a story that was as unreal as Cinderella’s tale. What then is real?
They’ve known each other for 5 years now, 11 hours of it were spent together, the remaining practically as strangers, trying to know each other behind their monitors and phones. And all these time, they claimed to have known each other well. They spent these 11 hours comfortably that made her think that what they had was something special.
She knew what they had shared in 5 long years was the exact definition of oddness. She could’ve looked up in Webster and found its meaning as: an invisible friendship that started as a joke, shared apart, deepened despite the distance, continued to infinity.
She could’ve been contented on their friendship, but the 4, 5 hours of it changed it all. And the invisibility that came after ruined her dreams…coz she could never believe it could, at any point, be real.
She smirked at herself. Was there really a point that any of these things became real? Looking back, nothing seemed to make sense. Probably it was only her that laid an imaginative sense on everything. And now reality had finally found its way to bang her head and cruelly say that it was him that existed, not the one she had in mind. And it kicked her unmercifully. Who was she trying to convince that the story is convertible to reality, when it was her denying what’s already in front of her?
Hey, it’s been a long time since I last heard from you.
She wanted to ask why it did take him that long. She was damn bedazzled on what really happened. A ghost... She already pushed that idea away. She couldn’t believe that after all this time, he’d only been a ghost in her life. She wanted to tell him but then, she chose to say it plain: Yeah, nothing much has changed.
They say dreams do come true. But you’ve got to distinguish a dream that is plausible from something that you’re stuck with, just because you can’t let it go.
She sighed… She crumpled the paper once again, paused, and decided to keep that page. Some stories are better left untold. Indeed, it was just another story that would add up to her collection. The realization was already gazing at her, waiting for her to claim it, and yet she was reluctant to even give it a glance, coz she knew that when she got a hold of it, that signified the end of her story.
Did she want it to end?
She tried to sense any possible sign of anything at all. But she couldn’t discern a thing. Lost in that situation, she felt helpless. But then again, she chose to let things be.
Was it a mistake?
I’m coming back this year. Maybe I’ll see you then.
And…she sighed…
“Heeeeey!” she exclaimed, almost running towards him, arms stretched as if she were ready for a huge birthday present. They hugged that they almost fell. She imagined how foolish they must have seemed if they weren’t able to keep their balance. But that could have added up to the excitement of that “reunion.” They laughed at their clumsiness and at that point, she remembered how great it felt to be with him once again.
There was nothing extraordinary on that meeting. They spent what, four, five hours together, had lunch, did some live performances singing and laughed like crazy. Probably that was the best part of it. Yeah it was a bit odd. Every time he said something, she automatically burst into laughter no matter how stupid it was about. You two are weird, his brother even commented. She could’ve probably spent an entire day with him just listening to his “concert” and watching him concentrate on his pasta, as if trying to figure out how the entire plate can fit into his mouth. Who am I with, a five-year old? She teasingly thought.
Before they knew it, the day was over. He walked her to the train, where they would leave the last traces of that day. For the third time in nearly 5 years of knowing each other, they said good bye. They hugged. Still, she managed to tease him but then, she felt strange. Nobody has hugged her that way, as if telling her how much she was missed, how much he didn’t want to let her go or that he didn’t want it to end. Or maybe, it was just her mind playing tricks on her…coz maybe she was the one feeling that way.
She slowly walked away, giving him a last look. She smiled and even tried to reach out for him while she was being carried away by the line towards the train. They would probably meet in another year or so, and at the thought of it, she sighed.
And… she sighed. That was all. It was as if there was nothing more she could add. She held a pencil on her right hand, slightly tapped it on her head, lost in oblivion on what to write next. On the corner of the table was a trash bin, half-full of crumpled papers. She’d been trying to do the story for weeks, but all she could do was to stare blankly at her nth sheet of paper, with drawings of circles and twirls. Of course she could’ve used her computer in front of her, but she felt more of a writer with the pencil. Besides, saving the trees was not her top priority at that moment.
She let another sigh. She decided to get herself a cup of tea, the one with flower contents and that said: “a soothing drink to aid relaxation.” She held the back of her head and realized she badly needed it.
She threw herself on her bed and reached for a Mitch Albom’s. Maybe she needed some inspiring thoughts that would disguise the sadness she felt. She flipped the pages but the words barely registered to her mind. Unconsciously her thoughts slowly drifted from the time she tried to sense the relaxed feeling from her tea, to the time she didn’t even have to exert any effort to feel complete, just months ago.
Shaking her head, she tried to push away what had been haunting her. She got up and went back to drawing circles and twirls on the paper…
A month after, they accidentally saw each other in messenger. They chatted as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. It was the continuation of the … of the day they met, if there really were a … on it. And she actually didn’t think there could be anything else besides their usual senseless conversation that only they could understand. One thing led to the next. She was more puzzled on how things were going. He would call her on special occasions, chat with her everyday, not failing to be extra thoughtful. He would plan up a getaway with her, telling her it was his first time to really plan on something. Now, what was that about?
She crumpled the paper again, frustrated. She felt it was useless telling a story that was as unreal as Cinderella’s tale. What then is real?
They’ve known each other for 5 years now, 11 hours of it were spent together, the remaining practically as strangers, trying to know each other behind their monitors and phones. And all these time, they claimed to have known each other well. They spent these 11 hours comfortably that made her think that what they had was something special.
She knew what they had shared in 5 long years was the exact definition of oddness. She could’ve looked up in Webster and found its meaning as: an invisible friendship that started as a joke, shared apart, deepened despite the distance, continued to infinity.
She could’ve been contented on their friendship, but the 4, 5 hours of it changed it all. And the invisibility that came after ruined her dreams…coz she could never believe it could, at any point, be real.
She smirked at herself. Was there really a point that any of these things became real? Looking back, nothing seemed to make sense. Probably it was only her that laid an imaginative sense on everything. And now reality had finally found its way to bang her head and cruelly say that it was him that existed, not the one she had in mind. And it kicked her unmercifully. Who was she trying to convince that the story is convertible to reality, when it was her denying what’s already in front of her?
Hey, it’s been a long time since I last heard from you.
She wanted to ask why it did take him that long. She was damn bedazzled on what really happened. A ghost... She already pushed that idea away. She couldn’t believe that after all this time, he’d only been a ghost in her life. She wanted to tell him but then, she chose to say it plain: Yeah, nothing much has changed.
They say dreams do come true. But you’ve got to distinguish a dream that is plausible from something that you’re stuck with, just because you can’t let it go.
She sighed… She crumpled the paper once again, paused, and decided to keep that page. Some stories are better left untold. Indeed, it was just another story that would add up to her collection. The realization was already gazing at her, waiting for her to claim it, and yet she was reluctant to even give it a glance, coz she knew that when she got a hold of it, that signified the end of her story.
Did she want it to end?
She tried to sense any possible sign of anything at all. But she couldn’t discern a thing. Lost in that situation, she felt helpless. But then again, she chose to let things be.
Was it a mistake?
I’m coming back this year. Maybe I’ll see you then.
And…she sighed…
Friday, March 23, 2007
I'm Insane
(Yeah, this may be a weird way of starting a new blog)
I stared at the ceiling of the small corner of my room one Sunday evening after a long day of being with friends and being alone all at the same time. I noticed the shadow on one of the glow-in-the-dark stickers near the fluorescent light, which led me to the thought: an object’s shadow is formed when the object blocks the light. And even if I dig deeper on how else can it possibly have a mark in my life, there’s just nothing more to it. Nothing more to ponder on. It’s just how you define a shadow. And some things just remain as they are.
I laughed at myself. Isn’t it funny how you get all these crazy ideas right after indulging yourself in a separate world of your own? At this very minute, I’m even having second thoughts with all these things going through my mind, but when I look closely, what the heck. I don’t need to explain my thoughts, more so myself to anyone.
Don’t we experience, at some point in our life, a certain degree of absurdity? Those who are insane enough are the ones who bravely face their insanity by contradicting what the society dictates them to do. And most of us, even with the continuous battle of sanity and madness within us, choose to live by the standards than be labeled “insane.”
Yeah, I am really caught up with this book that made me consciously think about crazy stuffs, and once and for all, realize that I had been insane, but refused to acknowledge that fact because of fear of what others might think of me.
So there’s the culprit: fear and vanity. I had been constantly reviewing my existence and life in its profound meaning. Some may immediately blurt out: that it in itself is crazy. Why waste time on useless thoughts? I can just accept things as they are. Why do I have to look at details so closely? Why can’t I just let things be? Should there always be a reason for everything? A hidden meaning for all that’s happening? And I never dared to open up to anyone just because I don’t want them to think that I’m not like them. And the sense of being the same with all others, the sense of belonging has got its place in the hierarchy of human’s needs, right Freud?
I’ve heard countless remarks to not overthink things, to do something more productive, to just live. And what exactly do we mean by living? We spend 20 or so years of our life studying math, science, literature and much of it are not even valuable to us right now, except for some conversations that would make us feel we’re smart enough to know all these stuffs. And why did we have to study all the way to college and get a degree? Coz that’s what everybody else does. Unless we get to college and graduate from a good university, we’re gonna be left behind. And so we did as what we were told to do. Then what? We fill ourselves with enthusiasm on the next chapter of our life – not having to seek support from our parents (financially, I mean), and be individuals of our own, earning our own money, preferably living on our own, doing things that pleasure us.
And in that stage, most people tend to get lost. We hear lots of people complaining how each day passes exactly the same way as the other. People drag themselves to work, because they have bills to pay, groceries to do, or children to send to the same prestigious schools.
Then we begin to think, is this all there is? Is life merely about breathing, getting up everyday doing the same thing, fulfilling responsibilities, building a dream and then accomplishing it?
I take time planning almost everything. I love the idea of doing things. I get pleasure in anticipating something to happen. That’s what keeps me going. Sometimes, plans do happen. And the feeling is just rewarding. But now that nearly everything has been laid upon me, there’s nothing more to wait for. Nothing more to be thrilled about. The waiting for the graduation, complete with hearing your name with some latin honors have already passed. No more big day to look forward to, so I make big fuss over little things – waiting for a phone call, anticipating a vacation with a friend, doing endless studies, doing marketing plans. And where will all these things lead me?
I hate being told what to do with my life. But sometimes I tend to just let them take the steering wheel, just to avoid any more arguments. Boy, I hate conflicts. So they tell me to work, I work. They tell me to be responsible and take care of tasks much larger than I think I can handle, I still give it a shot anyhow.
If I suddenly move out of “this life of mine” will people understand? Won’t they think I’m crazy enough to throw away a practically convenient life with nothing else to worry? Won’t they think I’m stupid to search for something else when everything I need is right in front of me? I don’t expect anybody to understand. What do they know? Is everything I need really just at the palm of my hands?
Some things are just nothing more than what they really are. But life is too vast for me to understand by just looking at a glow-in-the-dark sticker at my ceiling. When they tell me to just live, how am I supposed to do that if I’m just getting my light on the fluorescent and the only time I can shine is when the lights are already turned off?
Was I the one talking when I heard there’s nothing more to ponder on while staring at my ceiling? Insanity creeps in and it has found its way to surface!
I stared at the ceiling of the small corner of my room one Sunday evening after a long day of being with friends and being alone all at the same time. I noticed the shadow on one of the glow-in-the-dark stickers near the fluorescent light, which led me to the thought: an object’s shadow is formed when the object blocks the light. And even if I dig deeper on how else can it possibly have a mark in my life, there’s just nothing more to it. Nothing more to ponder on. It’s just how you define a shadow. And some things just remain as they are.
I laughed at myself. Isn’t it funny how you get all these crazy ideas right after indulging yourself in a separate world of your own? At this very minute, I’m even having second thoughts with all these things going through my mind, but when I look closely, what the heck. I don’t need to explain my thoughts, more so myself to anyone.
Don’t we experience, at some point in our life, a certain degree of absurdity? Those who are insane enough are the ones who bravely face their insanity by contradicting what the society dictates them to do. And most of us, even with the continuous battle of sanity and madness within us, choose to live by the standards than be labeled “insane.”
Yeah, I am really caught up with this book that made me consciously think about crazy stuffs, and once and for all, realize that I had been insane, but refused to acknowledge that fact because of fear of what others might think of me.
So there’s the culprit: fear and vanity. I had been constantly reviewing my existence and life in its profound meaning. Some may immediately blurt out: that it in itself is crazy. Why waste time on useless thoughts? I can just accept things as they are. Why do I have to look at details so closely? Why can’t I just let things be? Should there always be a reason for everything? A hidden meaning for all that’s happening? And I never dared to open up to anyone just because I don’t want them to think that I’m not like them. And the sense of being the same with all others, the sense of belonging has got its place in the hierarchy of human’s needs, right Freud?
I’ve heard countless remarks to not overthink things, to do something more productive, to just live. And what exactly do we mean by living? We spend 20 or so years of our life studying math, science, literature and much of it are not even valuable to us right now, except for some conversations that would make us feel we’re smart enough to know all these stuffs. And why did we have to study all the way to college and get a degree? Coz that’s what everybody else does. Unless we get to college and graduate from a good university, we’re gonna be left behind. And so we did as what we were told to do. Then what? We fill ourselves with enthusiasm on the next chapter of our life – not having to seek support from our parents (financially, I mean), and be individuals of our own, earning our own money, preferably living on our own, doing things that pleasure us.
And in that stage, most people tend to get lost. We hear lots of people complaining how each day passes exactly the same way as the other. People drag themselves to work, because they have bills to pay, groceries to do, or children to send to the same prestigious schools.
Then we begin to think, is this all there is? Is life merely about breathing, getting up everyday doing the same thing, fulfilling responsibilities, building a dream and then accomplishing it?
I take time planning almost everything. I love the idea of doing things. I get pleasure in anticipating something to happen. That’s what keeps me going. Sometimes, plans do happen. And the feeling is just rewarding. But now that nearly everything has been laid upon me, there’s nothing more to wait for. Nothing more to be thrilled about. The waiting for the graduation, complete with hearing your name with some latin honors have already passed. No more big day to look forward to, so I make big fuss over little things – waiting for a phone call, anticipating a vacation with a friend, doing endless studies, doing marketing plans. And where will all these things lead me?
I hate being told what to do with my life. But sometimes I tend to just let them take the steering wheel, just to avoid any more arguments. Boy, I hate conflicts. So they tell me to work, I work. They tell me to be responsible and take care of tasks much larger than I think I can handle, I still give it a shot anyhow.
If I suddenly move out of “this life of mine” will people understand? Won’t they think I’m crazy enough to throw away a practically convenient life with nothing else to worry? Won’t they think I’m stupid to search for something else when everything I need is right in front of me? I don’t expect anybody to understand. What do they know? Is everything I need really just at the palm of my hands?
Some things are just nothing more than what they really are. But life is too vast for me to understand by just looking at a glow-in-the-dark sticker at my ceiling. When they tell me to just live, how am I supposed to do that if I’m just getting my light on the fluorescent and the only time I can shine is when the lights are already turned off?
Was I the one talking when I heard there’s nothing more to ponder on while staring at my ceiling? Insanity creeps in and it has found its way to surface!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
THE POINT
Are all feelings valid?
You woke up one morning, feeling the day is so right (good for you), but it turned out you’d just get upset for the rest of the day. You had it all planned, from what you’d wear down to what chapter you should reach on the book you’ve been reading before going to bed.
Don’t you hate it when you get everything planned up and just get disappointed somewhere along the way because something didn’t go with what you expected? Don’t you have the right to be upset when you’re looking forward to something but you have no control if it’s ever gonna happen at all?
When a circumstance got in your way and had the most unwanted effect on you, no matter how petty it could be, and no matter how much you try to rationalize that it’s just nothing, don’t you still get the most annoying feeling you could ever have trying to debate with yourself?
The point is, if you get happy because of a promotion, or just because someone gave you a gift, it’s still happiness. If you get frustrated redoing your thesis paper, or just because you’ve been waiting for someone for hours at the movie house, we still have the same label for it: frustration, irritation, disappointment.
No matter how biggie or plain it may sound, wouldn’t you agree that your feelings is all yours? Can anybody question or judge what you feel or tell you what you should or should not feel at all? The only thing you have control with is how you deal with your own chaos inside you (isn’t it the hardest part of it? ugh!) Coz believe me, as nonsense as it may seem, you still have to deal with it.
You woke up one morning, feeling the day is so right (good for you), but it turned out you’d just get upset for the rest of the day. You had it all planned, from what you’d wear down to what chapter you should reach on the book you’ve been reading before going to bed.
Don’t you hate it when you get everything planned up and just get disappointed somewhere along the way because something didn’t go with what you expected? Don’t you have the right to be upset when you’re looking forward to something but you have no control if it’s ever gonna happen at all?
When a circumstance got in your way and had the most unwanted effect on you, no matter how petty it could be, and no matter how much you try to rationalize that it’s just nothing, don’t you still get the most annoying feeling you could ever have trying to debate with yourself?
The point is, if you get happy because of a promotion, or just because someone gave you a gift, it’s still happiness. If you get frustrated redoing your thesis paper, or just because you’ve been waiting for someone for hours at the movie house, we still have the same label for it: frustration, irritation, disappointment.
No matter how biggie or plain it may sound, wouldn’t you agree that your feelings is all yours? Can anybody question or judge what you feel or tell you what you should or should not feel at all? The only thing you have control with is how you deal with your own chaos inside you (isn’t it the hardest part of it? ugh!) Coz believe me, as nonsense as it may seem, you still have to deal with it.
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