at present i have three blogs running, but none are active. the times the bug to write strikes, i don't opt to write in this space any longer.
i'm thinking of closing down this blog as all the entries here have already been imported to my multiply site, which i feel houses the bits and pieces of my life in a more organised fashion than if i had spread out my information across different photo sites, blogs, and the like.
therefore may i entreat you to visit me at my home site with multiply. feel free to email me for your personal comments at svelterogue@gmail.com or set up a multiply account if you want to comment on the site itself.
for now, let's see how long i can keep this up and running, in a manner of speaking. if and when i remember to return to this page, then i may just as well shut it down already. for now, it's here to stay to give me time to say goodbye and for the occasional reader to actually know of my whereabouts elsewhere.
the US open is upon us and as of this writing, my rafa has just beaten the australian power server and roger walked through his match with the taiwanese kid.
31.8.06
14.5.06
vamos rafael!
this link says it all
and don't forget to check out the related sites on that page as well, a big factor why i love bbc =)
mos of my tears tension and sweat were wrung out here, though, to close out my sunday afternoon *beams* i was especially active in the sets 3-5 entries, making some "friends" in the process, one of them a sampras fan and another a dutch girl who gave us blow by blow scores every freaking three seconds or so.
what a day!!!
*doc emer shared a wonderful photo of rafa's post-winning moment which i featured here
and don't forget to check out the related sites on that page as well, a big factor why i love bbc =)
mos of my tears tension and sweat were wrung out here, though, to close out my sunday afternoon *beams* i was especially active in the sets 3-5 entries, making some "friends" in the process, one of them a sampras fan and another a dutch girl who gave us blow by blow scores every freaking three seconds or so.
what a day!!!
*doc emer shared a wonderful photo of rafa's post-winning moment which i featured here
3.5.06
one foot in front of the other, over leaves and over bridges
more than a year has passed since i last ran laps around the oval at the sports centre. it was a time of starting an MA i can't bring myself to love, a time of getting pregnant with my second son and bringing him to the world in a miraculous VBAC delivery, a time of entering moments of calm and peace in my european adventure.
i've Never run cross-country. i've worn out a couple of cross trainers in my lifetime, too few to ever be considered a serious runner but still more than anyone with a sedentary lifestyle can ever have.
until today. batjay wrote about his brisk walking adventures in orange county over at blogkada and i tried to go the same route, only my way dove into the forest near the arenberg castle in heverlee just outside the ring of leuven, quiet in the middle of the morning under a gray sky. the track was muddy from the previous night's drizzle and i was afraid that any one of my footfalls would betray me and my ankle would crumple beneath me. in spite of the hush, spring's irrepressible energy was jumping from the tree branches and tiny yellow and white flowers growing wild on the forest floor.
more than one year of no physical exertion and my heart wanted to burst out of my chest. the football field next to alma 3 was a sea of undulating green grass, the goal posts reminding me fleetingly of the coming world cup on june 9th. (go brazil!!!)
i wanted to talk about moving on yet now that i'm seated in front of the computer screen, words fail me. words, the very things that define my career as an english teacher, the one thing i wield with confidence, yet they escape me now. right now, all i know about moving on is that sometimes, a rabbit has to run so that eagles will not take him for dinner. i can feel my whiskers twitching. i need to dive into my hole now.
happy birthday, andy.
i've Never run cross-country. i've worn out a couple of cross trainers in my lifetime, too few to ever be considered a serious runner but still more than anyone with a sedentary lifestyle can ever have.
until today. batjay wrote about his brisk walking adventures in orange county over at blogkada and i tried to go the same route, only my way dove into the forest near the arenberg castle in heverlee just outside the ring of leuven, quiet in the middle of the morning under a gray sky. the track was muddy from the previous night's drizzle and i was afraid that any one of my footfalls would betray me and my ankle would crumple beneath me. in spite of the hush, spring's irrepressible energy was jumping from the tree branches and tiny yellow and white flowers growing wild on the forest floor.
more than one year of no physical exertion and my heart wanted to burst out of my chest. the football field next to alma 3 was a sea of undulating green grass, the goal posts reminding me fleetingly of the coming world cup on june 9th. (go brazil!!!)
i wanted to talk about moving on yet now that i'm seated in front of the computer screen, words fail me. words, the very things that define my career as an english teacher, the one thing i wield with confidence, yet they escape me now. right now, all i know about moving on is that sometimes, a rabbit has to run so that eagles will not take him for dinner. i can feel my whiskers twitching. i need to dive into my hole now.
happy birthday, andy.
1.5.06
when poetry takes over
not only was langston hughes born in february, OUR month, but he wrote the following poem:
i remember reading this in my 7th grade textbook for language arts and i have never forgotten it since. the poem is light and gossamer, resting softly on my eyelids. when they flutter open, the poem vanishes, as did my friend.
then there is li po:
only this time my horse was on a modern platform in the middle of brussels and his steed was a red and silver train that would take him away from me yet again. how many times can one endure parting of this magnitude? i used to think that airports were the most lonely places in the world, especially when you were the one left behind. today i saw that beautiful modern train stations can be just as stark and lonely, if not more.
i had a friend:
he went away from me
there's nothing left to say
i had a friend:
i remember reading this in my 7th grade textbook for language arts and i have never forgotten it since. the poem is light and gossamer, resting softly on my eyelids. when they flutter open, the poem vanishes, as did my friend.
then there is li po:
Blue mountains lie beyond the north wall;
Round the city's eastern side flows the white water.
Here we part, friend, once forever.
You go ten thousand miles, drifting away
Like an unrooted water-grass.
Oh, the floating clouds and the thoughts of a wanderer!
Oh, the sunset and the longing of an old friend!
We ride away from each other, waving our hands,
While our horses neigh softly, softly . . . .
only this time my horse was on a modern platform in the middle of brussels and his steed was a red and silver train that would take him away from me yet again. how many times can one endure parting of this magnitude? i used to think that airports were the most lonely places in the world, especially when you were the one left behind. today i saw that beautiful modern train stations can be just as stark and lonely, if not more.
7.4.06
Mysteries of Palm Sunday
the following entry was written for our parish bulletin ... just wanted to share it with you here... svelte rogue
Back in the Philippines, Palm Sunday was time for me to play “The King of Glory” on the organ and watch the throngs of mass-goers wave their intricate palm fronds that the priest walked blessed with holy water. Palm Sunday signalled the start of an arduous week of one service after another that required choir participation, from the washing of the feet on Maundy Thursday; to the Stations of the Cross through village streets baking in the summer heat culminating at 3 PM in the church and the ensuing Veneration of the Cross ceremony; to the Sinakulo (or Cenaculo) performance of the Passion in the evening that ended at midnight; to the rise-sit-kneel of the endless readings of Black Saturday; to the fireball lighting up a pile of twigs to begin the Easter dawn celebrations; the Salubong (Tagalog, which means “Meeting” to refer to Jesus & Mary’s meeting on Easter morning) with matching angels singing a Latin hymn when the processions of Mama Mary and Son Jesus statues meet; until the elaborate Easter Eucharist with the dialogue gospel, renunciation of sin (I do I do and I do!), and renewal of Christian vows (I do yet again I do and I do!). Sitting on my comfortable perch at the organ with my motley crew of singers, images of the coming Holy Week were crystallised most clearly at the start of the gloomy Holy Week.
For some, it also meant counting the remaining days before they could hie off to the beach or highlands for some summer action, since most work ends on Wednesday to give people time to travel to the provinces, presumably to be with family to attend the Holy Week services. But for many Manila folk, this is a great opportunity to travel to vacation spots for a relaxing 4-day weekend of endless card games and booze.
The past two years, though, have found me and my family in Belgium, away from the searing summer Philippine heat. I realise bemusedly that a trip to the beach is wholly possible except that the North Sea off Oostende will be more chilly than I am used to. I see many similarities between the weekend Manila beach bums and almost all of Belgians planning activities for their family during the two-week Paasvakantie.
It has gotten to such a point that in any part of the Christian world I may be, whether in Asia or Europe, Palm Sunday signals the beginning of good times and fun.
Yet the gospels paint a different picture of this tumultuous day in Christian history. On this day, the unassuming Messiah rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and was greeted by waving palm fronds, the sum total of his kingship, kingdom, and people. Here was a glad entourage greeting their homely king, welcoming him into the heart of a city that would turn against him in the coming days, where the leaders of their faith would condemn him to the death sentence reserved for the worst criminals of the Roman estate.
One can point out that this would be the last day of glory and “fun” for Jesus before trekking the painful path of the Passion that lay before him still. How could his human self not have quailed at the thought of the suffering that could break anyone’s spirit?
Today, it is easy for us to approach Palm Sunday with the thought that even if Jesus did enter Jerusalem on this day filled with dread and trepidation, he would eventually come into his paradise, with the hopeful thief on the cross next to him, along with the cries and hopes of the oppressed, downtrodden and sad lives of a cruel world. We always rest secure in the knowledge that after the Passion lies the birth of new life, of Love reborn, of salvation forever within our grasp by the blood of his sacrifice.
Today I wake up to a Palm Sunday with more questions than answers, befuddled and confused as to what stance I must take in order to prepare meaningfully for the coming days. I am torn several ways, both familiar and not, between the rites and rituals of my past experiences, of someone rooted in a deeply Christian culture, of someone who was born in a country where every day one encounters Christ’s Passion in the suffering faces of my co-Filipinos, of someone transplanted into another culture where this same suffering has been cocooned into the colourful easter eggs and marzipan packs found in shops.
I pray that for those of us gathered together on this special morn, the steady footfalls of donkey steps form the rhythmic backdrop of what is still to come --- a taste of pain and suffering that can only end in love and eternal life.
28.3.06
my cup overfloweth
i remember how i used to stare at your older brother while he slept and it's as if the world inside of me would explode through my chest.
i don't remember the day you smiled at me for the first time, the kind of smile that wasn't just gas or a guardian angel chat. i made you smile and you made me feel like the most beautiful person in the world, lighting up your world. and in your eyes, the world was everything. and i was at the center of it.
how many times have i used your helplessness as an excuse not to get up, just so i can feel your body against mine, pliant and trusting in my arms, your warmth bringing sweet lassitude into my limbs? i have often prayed that you stay little and angelic forever, my perfect doll.
when your kuya embraces you, soothes away your tears, scolds me for kissing you too much, i am in a place filled with light and joy. those are moments when god leans over and winks at me, as if saying, "ain't life great?"
i live for a thousand and one moments, and they all contain you, kimi, and your kuya mikka. i will not survive if each time you smile at me, or your kuya is overwhelmingly sweet, is counted as nitroglycerine in the cutest purple bottle.
i don't remember the day you smiled at me for the first time, the kind of smile that wasn't just gas or a guardian angel chat. i made you smile and you made me feel like the most beautiful person in the world, lighting up your world. and in your eyes, the world was everything. and i was at the center of it.
how many times have i used your helplessness as an excuse not to get up, just so i can feel your body against mine, pliant and trusting in my arms, your warmth bringing sweet lassitude into my limbs? i have often prayed that you stay little and angelic forever, my perfect doll.
when your kuya embraces you, soothes away your tears, scolds me for kissing you too much, i am in a place filled with light and joy. those are moments when god leans over and winks at me, as if saying, "ain't life great?"
i live for a thousand and one moments, and they all contain you, kimi, and your kuya mikka. i will not survive if each time you smile at me, or your kuya is overwhelmingly sweet, is counted as nitroglycerine in the cutest purple bottle.
8.3.06
1.3.06
the poor you have always
this topic is too close to my heart not to push to the forefront of my internet splashes.
i don't normally announce when i've written articles elsewhere in the net, but this time, i'd like to send you over to blogkada to read what i and the other berks have written about poverty
(if you want to see the entire site and entries, click here)
of course i'm working with the premise that you are with me here. i've been getting more hits at multiply; maybe that's where i should announce this. pero hindi bagay don kaya dito na lang. hahaha
i don't normally announce when i've written articles elsewhere in the net, but this time, i'd like to send you over to blogkada to read what i and the other berks have written about poverty
(if you want to see the entire site and entries, click here)
of course i'm working with the premise that you are with me here. i've been getting more hits at multiply; maybe that's where i should announce this. pero hindi bagay don kaya dito na lang. hahaha
27.2.06
litterbug
on a good day you can look at this and feel both wonder and some smugness --- give yourself a pat on the back while you sip iced tea and generally just feel what a work of art you are. or you can puzzle over the shadow puppets you've cast on the wall of cyber and real friendships --- which ones are real and which ones are mere projections frozen on the wall?
on a not so good day you can feel the sniffles coming on and the lack of sunlight casts a ghostly light on faces you pass on the street and shadows threaten in every corner of your sanctuary.
on a rotten day the kitchen light conspires against you, door handles snag on sore hips, the innocent chortle of hyperactive toddlers and desperately hungry cries of infants are indictments of your worst maternal fears and insecurities and you just want to call up your dad and blame him for all the shit hitting the fan.
have you seen those swirly colourful circles on lollipops, the kind that spins round and round so you are that dot in the centre that disappears the more mad the dance becomes? i could cross my legs in my comfy corner, adjust the glare of my table lamp and just let the tears slide down my cheeks and not feel at all connected to my heaving shoulders.
there has to be a case for a trash bin you can put at the foot of your chair, just because. then you won't have to bump into people or food along the way as hapless substitutes.
your honour, i rest my case.
on a not so good day you can feel the sniffles coming on and the lack of sunlight casts a ghostly light on faces you pass on the street and shadows threaten in every corner of your sanctuary.
on a rotten day the kitchen light conspires against you, door handles snag on sore hips, the innocent chortle of hyperactive toddlers and desperately hungry cries of infants are indictments of your worst maternal fears and insecurities and you just want to call up your dad and blame him for all the shit hitting the fan.
have you seen those swirly colourful circles on lollipops, the kind that spins round and round so you are that dot in the centre that disappears the more mad the dance becomes? i could cross my legs in my comfy corner, adjust the glare of my table lamp and just let the tears slide down my cheeks and not feel at all connected to my heaving shoulders.
there has to be a case for a trash bin you can put at the foot of your chair, just because. then you won't have to bump into people or food along the way as hapless substitutes.
your honour, i rest my case.
26.2.06
omigaz
this site has been so neglected... by you!
but with one stop shops like multiply around, sites like these are merely redundant. and i am too lazy to consolidate photobucket with this. it's too much work.
i haven't the energy to find ways to woo you back to me. like the perfect partner, you will just come. i'll see you...
but with one stop shops like multiply around, sites like these are merely redundant. and i am too lazy to consolidate photobucket with this. it's too much work.
i haven't the energy to find ways to woo you back to me. like the perfect partner, you will just come. i'll see you...
16.2.06
fearfully and wonderfully made
they fit perfectly in your arms, curves melting against your body, seeping into your bones your blood your heart
their eyes follow your every move, unblinking, steadily counting each minute you are with them as a singular chunk of eternity
you are their everything which in itself is scary --- such trust, such responsibility foisted upon you --- can you last?
they are miniscule expressions of enduring love and hope
their skin, their eyes, their voices, their small tiny hands and feet, their rotund bellies --- seen on anyone over 12 it is grotesque but in their onesies and rompers they are the cutest beings alive
when they coo and gurgle you know that no matter how you've screwed up in life, you can still make the most innocent and pure being happy
how simple are their ways their needs their lives --- why can't we stay little?
babies are special beings and my god, thank you for giving me another one to love and to raise! it's no walk in the park but after the first one, things don't look too difficult or daunting anymore. before i know it, my little kimi will be as big as his kuya mikka and i will wonder how time could fly so swiftly past.
their eyes follow your every move, unblinking, steadily counting each minute you are with them as a singular chunk of eternity
you are their everything which in itself is scary --- such trust, such responsibility foisted upon you --- can you last?
they are miniscule expressions of enduring love and hope
their skin, their eyes, their voices, their small tiny hands and feet, their rotund bellies --- seen on anyone over 12 it is grotesque but in their onesies and rompers they are the cutest beings alive
when they coo and gurgle you know that no matter how you've screwed up in life, you can still make the most innocent and pure being happy
how simple are their ways their needs their lives --- why can't we stay little?
babies are special beings and my god, thank you for giving me another one to love and to raise! it's no walk in the park but after the first one, things don't look too difficult or daunting anymore. before i know it, my little kimi will be as big as his kuya mikka and i will wonder how time could fly so swiftly past.
31.1.06
finding a way
i just finished penning some thoughts to the venerable blogkada, that trusty egroups where serendipitously, you can breathe zen, joy, dreams, and secrets into a pool of unquestioning love. it's a happy happy circumstance that brought me into that group of bloggers and sometimes i am a bit embarrassed to be considered one of them because i no longer consider myself a hardcore blogger. that's a thing of the distant past, it seems. i remember having another URL in another lifetime and i know i have a zipped file with all my old entries but it feels like an old, discarded skin. but skin that you can fold lovingly into the most special corner of your closet and maybe one day, pull out once more and smooth lovingly in the soft rays of filtered sunshine making dust specks dance before your eyes.
i wanted to entitle my entry "finding forrester", just like that movie with jamal and william forrester (oh sean connery, you are too cute it's such a drag!!!). i know i mentioned this to blogkada some minutes ago and i feel the need to talk more about it in this more loose and public space. somehow.
photos arrived in my email inbox 11 hours ago and upon seeing them, i don't know, that movie moment happened. breath became suspended involuntarily, eyes misted over and thoughts started to move sluggishly, as if someone had poured a vat of molasses over everything. escape evaded me no matter how much the mind commanded me to shut the door and continue along my little mary sunshine way. of course we know that in life, things do not always turn out the way we want them to.
then i thought, i don't want to end up on google search for that same movie (not that i check my stats anyway, that, too, is a thing of the distant past --- but thank you to my loyal visitors who keep the stats alive no matter what) and thought, let's put a little spin to it, for wit and quick recall. but the alternative was too cheesy, too tacky, dicey. finding family? not again. i've been going on and on about that topic in the past entries and if by some wild chance my older brother or sister bumps into this blog (if blogs could live for a million years, and we, too, why, nothing is impossible), they will be bound to arch their coiffed eyebrows at me and flutter, "self-absorbed lara is at it again, whining about her life. grow up, when will you ever grow up?" ayayay. no na lang. hence, a weak attempt to be general and specific and literary, all experiments in futility.
in that movie, jamal felt that at the moment that he needed forrester's help the most, forrester folded and didn't come through for him. their relationship had deepend beyond words, and both were talented writers. words words words. these will be with me for always. jamal poured out his heart to forrester in one last letter. or so he thought. it was the letter that pushed forrester to go out on a limb for his young ward, friend, son, and brother.
we grow up with family, he said. true enough. don't we all? barring orphans and adopted children, this is par for the course.
then we come to a point in our lives when we make family for ourselves, where we choose to be with people we love and wish to be family for us for all time. ties go beyond blood and name affiliations.
oh i don't know. that caught at me. but suddenly fatigue presses heavily and my fingers can move no more.
kimi will be baptised on the 12th of february. the prospect is joy-filled. in the midst of winter, life will be celebrated. can a child be more perfect than your own? they are wonderfully and fearfully made, fitting in the fold of your arms, warm against your bosom. they are helpless in your love, dependent on your attention and support. life affirming and pure grace.
i find i can go on no more. i shall have to focus better with my entry for blogkada. we're talking about beginnings now. my entry is due to come out on my birthday. right, jay? if not, it's okay.
happy birthday to me. nog niet. vrijdag. tata.
i wanted to entitle my entry "finding forrester", just like that movie with jamal and william forrester (oh sean connery, you are too cute it's such a drag!!!). i know i mentioned this to blogkada some minutes ago and i feel the need to talk more about it in this more loose and public space. somehow.
photos arrived in my email inbox 11 hours ago and upon seeing them, i don't know, that movie moment happened. breath became suspended involuntarily, eyes misted over and thoughts started to move sluggishly, as if someone had poured a vat of molasses over everything. escape evaded me no matter how much the mind commanded me to shut the door and continue along my little mary sunshine way. of course we know that in life, things do not always turn out the way we want them to.
then i thought, i don't want to end up on google search for that same movie (not that i check my stats anyway, that, too, is a thing of the distant past --- but thank you to my loyal visitors who keep the stats alive no matter what) and thought, let's put a little spin to it, for wit and quick recall. but the alternative was too cheesy, too tacky, dicey. finding family? not again. i've been going on and on about that topic in the past entries and if by some wild chance my older brother or sister bumps into this blog (if blogs could live for a million years, and we, too, why, nothing is impossible), they will be bound to arch their coiffed eyebrows at me and flutter, "self-absorbed lara is at it again, whining about her life. grow up, when will you ever grow up?" ayayay. no na lang. hence, a weak attempt to be general and specific and literary, all experiments in futility.
in that movie, jamal felt that at the moment that he needed forrester's help the most, forrester folded and didn't come through for him. their relationship had deepend beyond words, and both were talented writers. words words words. these will be with me for always. jamal poured out his heart to forrester in one last letter. or so he thought. it was the letter that pushed forrester to go out on a limb for his young ward, friend, son, and brother.
we grow up with family, he said. true enough. don't we all? barring orphans and adopted children, this is par for the course.
then we come to a point in our lives when we make family for ourselves, where we choose to be with people we love and wish to be family for us for all time. ties go beyond blood and name affiliations.
oh i don't know. that caught at me. but suddenly fatigue presses heavily and my fingers can move no more.
kimi will be baptised on the 12th of february. the prospect is joy-filled. in the midst of winter, life will be celebrated. can a child be more perfect than your own? they are wonderfully and fearfully made, fitting in the fold of your arms, warm against your bosom. they are helpless in your love, dependent on your attention and support. life affirming and pure grace.
i find i can go on no more. i shall have to focus better with my entry for blogkada. we're talking about beginnings now. my entry is due to come out on my birthday. right, jay? if not, it's okay.
happy birthday to me. nog niet. vrijdag. tata.
18.1.06
i guess not
i prayed last night.
there is still hurt. anger. a sense of loss and betrayal. i can't help but give in to the insidious arguments that can undermine one's self-esteem. there is abandonment. loneliness.
then i realise, after all these years, in spite of our having lived under one roof, that with the weight and magnitude of their hatred in their letters to me, that... they never really loved me.
so many factors come into play but that truth stands out starkly against the melancholia of my present thoughts and feelings.
ganon pala ang pakiramdam, ano, when one comes to such a realisation. it sits quietly and solidly in one's gut and i wonder how i could have missed it all this time but always known about it.
i'm spinning in twilight zone right now.
ps: thanks, hannahlou, for that sweet sweet email...
there is still hurt. anger. a sense of loss and betrayal. i can't help but give in to the insidious arguments that can undermine one's self-esteem. there is abandonment. loneliness.
then i realise, after all these years, in spite of our having lived under one roof, that with the weight and magnitude of their hatred in their letters to me, that... they never really loved me.
so many factors come into play but that truth stands out starkly against the melancholia of my present thoughts and feelings.
ganon pala ang pakiramdam, ano, when one comes to such a realisation. it sits quietly and solidly in one's gut and i wonder how i could have missed it all this time but always known about it.
i'm spinning in twilight zone right now.
ps: thanks, hannahlou, for that sweet sweet email...
5.1.06
when you can smile at these
when you're young and you fall in love and then out of it, you swear you'll never live through the shock of pain hurt and betrayal.
when you're young you are infallible, unbeatable, invincible. nothing gets you down. life is to be conquered, no party is too wild, no drink too deep, no man too tame.
when you're young you are the most beautiful girl at the ball, the smartest chick, the coolest gal, the hippest bitch. nothing, no one, can get you down. let them try.
then one day you wake up and look through the clear glass of your apartment window and the gray skies greet you solemnly and you can't help but smile at the slew of memories that march across the overcast palette of hidden sky.
how has it come to this, that one can miss the flings of her younger years? those very same flings that rocked the foundations of all you held dear, that threatened the very fabric of your most precious existence? can it be possible to become lost in the songs that defined that irresponsible moment of foolish discovery and feel a soft longing for the cast of that story? a tale shakespeare could have himself crafted in his most perfect play, "othello", a story of greed, jealousy, lust, and the earth-shaking depths of love. as boy and girl sing in "moulin rouge", i believe in love above all, come what may, i will love you until my dying day...
i never gave it much thought, but he did love the beatles. the simple strains of "why (s)he had to go i don't know, (s)he wouldn't stay. i said something wrong how i long for yesterday..." stand the test of time, sitting collectedly among the greatest songs of all time, not just the previous century. the george harrison songs i love bring back sun-kissed beaches in mindanao when i still had a 24-inch waist and graceful flexible limbs that allowed me to float above my students' wide-eyed faces while dancing "here comes the sun" at our farewell party, or to stare at the crystal clear skies studded with a million stars, exchanging warm caresses with a boyfriend who would someday beat up his wife and leave her, a mere shadow of his former cute self, ugly, drawn, haggard, and weary with life. but the hint of a smile on my jaded lips will always hearken back to that golden time when the night wind cloaked my love in its secret folds and took me anywhere everywhere my searching questing heart yearned to go.
you can only smile at the past tragedies, the past loves, the past shadows, when you have found your own very special place in the world. until you have found your niche in the order of things, the past will be nothing but ghosts that haunt you endlessly until you have buried them in their proper places with a secure, peace-filled present. maybe that's why it took me a long time to settle down, i was too curious, too adventurous, too full of (unnecessary) questions (at times)... the one time (was it only one?) i nearly lost it all was enough to put the fear of god in my heart forever and vow NEVER ever to hurt my one true thing, the one person who means the world to me, the one person who is the One for me in this life and beyond.
if there is a tale of true love for me, it is one with the streamer above the entrance of a yellow brick road: "the road to hell is paved with good intentions". the road dives into dark woods filled with dangerous bandits and intoxicating hideaways then explodes onto golden beaches of wanton sun-tipped waves before alighting gently on fields of gold (of course sting is there to greet me at life's end) where nothing can hurt me anymore, not the traumas and stigmas of past experiences that are best left in the wooden chests of memories.
i cannot exchange my life for a more innocent one, for a more idyllic one. this present one, with all the nightmares and joys, has been tailor-made for me, though i may not have seen it at the time. am i being fatalistic? not at all. i am a firm believer in free will, i am no puppet that acts out the designs of a sadistic higher force. i am a child of the universe, born out of and in love, thrown into the tumultuous pot of self-discovery the hard way, but always, always, holding the cinnamon bottle of love tightly in my hands, so much so that it is part and parcel of who i am and always will be.
Now another wintertime has come and gone
The pigeons feeding in the square have flown
But I remember when the vespers chime
You loved me once upon a summertime...
when you're young you are infallible, unbeatable, invincible. nothing gets you down. life is to be conquered, no party is too wild, no drink too deep, no man too tame.
when you're young you are the most beautiful girl at the ball, the smartest chick, the coolest gal, the hippest bitch. nothing, no one, can get you down. let them try.
then one day you wake up and look through the clear glass of your apartment window and the gray skies greet you solemnly and you can't help but smile at the slew of memories that march across the overcast palette of hidden sky.
how has it come to this, that one can miss the flings of her younger years? those very same flings that rocked the foundations of all you held dear, that threatened the very fabric of your most precious existence? can it be possible to become lost in the songs that defined that irresponsible moment of foolish discovery and feel a soft longing for the cast of that story? a tale shakespeare could have himself crafted in his most perfect play, "othello", a story of greed, jealousy, lust, and the earth-shaking depths of love. as boy and girl sing in "moulin rouge", i believe in love above all, come what may, i will love you until my dying day...
i never gave it much thought, but he did love the beatles. the simple strains of "why (s)he had to go i don't know, (s)he wouldn't stay. i said something wrong how i long for yesterday..." stand the test of time, sitting collectedly among the greatest songs of all time, not just the previous century. the george harrison songs i love bring back sun-kissed beaches in mindanao when i still had a 24-inch waist and graceful flexible limbs that allowed me to float above my students' wide-eyed faces while dancing "here comes the sun" at our farewell party, or to stare at the crystal clear skies studded with a million stars, exchanging warm caresses with a boyfriend who would someday beat up his wife and leave her, a mere shadow of his former cute self, ugly, drawn, haggard, and weary with life. but the hint of a smile on my jaded lips will always hearken back to that golden time when the night wind cloaked my love in its secret folds and took me anywhere everywhere my searching questing heart yearned to go.
you can only smile at the past tragedies, the past loves, the past shadows, when you have found your own very special place in the world. until you have found your niche in the order of things, the past will be nothing but ghosts that haunt you endlessly until you have buried them in their proper places with a secure, peace-filled present. maybe that's why it took me a long time to settle down, i was too curious, too adventurous, too full of (unnecessary) questions (at times)... the one time (was it only one?) i nearly lost it all was enough to put the fear of god in my heart forever and vow NEVER ever to hurt my one true thing, the one person who means the world to me, the one person who is the One for me in this life and beyond.
if there is a tale of true love for me, it is one with the streamer above the entrance of a yellow brick road: "the road to hell is paved with good intentions". the road dives into dark woods filled with dangerous bandits and intoxicating hideaways then explodes onto golden beaches of wanton sun-tipped waves before alighting gently on fields of gold (of course sting is there to greet me at life's end) where nothing can hurt me anymore, not the traumas and stigmas of past experiences that are best left in the wooden chests of memories.
i cannot exchange my life for a more innocent one, for a more idyllic one. this present one, with all the nightmares and joys, has been tailor-made for me, though i may not have seen it at the time. am i being fatalistic? not at all. i am a firm believer in free will, i am no puppet that acts out the designs of a sadistic higher force. i am a child of the universe, born out of and in love, thrown into the tumultuous pot of self-discovery the hard way, but always, always, holding the cinnamon bottle of love tightly in my hands, so much so that it is part and parcel of who i am and always will be.
Now another wintertime has come and gone
The pigeons feeding in the square have flown
But I remember when the vespers chime
You loved me once upon a summertime...
4.1.06
postpartum views
after having kimi, i realise that the depression i suffered after my first pregnancy was connected to the actual mode of delivery. the CS of mikka left me feeling grossly betrayed by my doctor then. if any of you ever have a doctor named GRANADOS who holds clinic at cardinal santos memorial hospital in greenhills, and also at the swank ayala alabang medical center, stay clear of her. she is no doubt a nice person, she is very dignified and pretty, but she will not refund your philhealth and she will opt for an emergency CS even if you don't need it. i Know. i went through that with her.
she betrayed me. she knew that at all costs, i didn't want a CS yet she cut up my belly. and i spilled tears over mikka in the succeeding weeks. i was the most athletic child in my family, i was an active pregnant mom, swimming three times a week until my 32nd week, and i was athlete of the year at our university sportsfest. then this happened. i was an invalid for 6 weeks, hobbling around with a huge bandage covering the ghastly smile just above my crotch. i couldn't lift mikka at all, not even to feed him. i had to wait for someone to bring him to me. i couldn't do any exercises until the doctor had declared my muscles completely healed. i had to wait at least 2 years before conceiving again if i wanted a shot at normal delivery.
all this crushed me. no aikido. no swimming. no running.
when kimi was still in my tummy, i worried about being alone in a cold country, on my own, no yayas, no family nearby. kimi's been out for more than a week and i am still basking in the glow of his miraculous birth, the wonderful timing of his coming into the world... i am content, filled with peace, happy. if i have cried in the past few days, it's been out of petty frustrations like not being able to fix the room of the boys to look like a real boy's room. S took me to a shop earlier today and the sales have begun... we were able to purchase some maternity stuff for me which i have long hankered for and this helped dispel some of my crankiness. so nothing lasting there, no dark cloud of depression despite the biting cold. we even had to dive into a café so i could breastfeed kimi who was bawling in hunger. he even had kaka in his nappy which i changed right on the seat of the resto.
no depression for me this time, even if the same people who ignored mikka are steadfastly ignoring me now. i don't need their affirmation anymore. i guess you can say i am a much more secure lara now than i was years ago, when cretinous siblings ignored me and prioritised their friends and other family over me and left me feeling rejected. i can still remember bea chiding me gently and not so gently about this: "lara, stop tying your sense of worth to these people!!! you are lovely in your own special way and you don't need them!" bea dear, you are so right. today, i am surrounded by wonderful friends here in leuven and brussels, cyber friends are completely great (the berks top the list of course!), and real friends and family never fail to come through in momentous occasions like these.
i am now excitedly looking forward to kimi's christening this coming february. it's going to be a double celebration since i'll be celebrating my 35th birthday then. so much to be thankful and happy for in this life! :)
here's my feeling madonna moment with my son kimi...
she betrayed me. she knew that at all costs, i didn't want a CS yet she cut up my belly. and i spilled tears over mikka in the succeeding weeks. i was the most athletic child in my family, i was an active pregnant mom, swimming three times a week until my 32nd week, and i was athlete of the year at our university sportsfest. then this happened. i was an invalid for 6 weeks, hobbling around with a huge bandage covering the ghastly smile just above my crotch. i couldn't lift mikka at all, not even to feed him. i had to wait for someone to bring him to me. i couldn't do any exercises until the doctor had declared my muscles completely healed. i had to wait at least 2 years before conceiving again if i wanted a shot at normal delivery.
all this crushed me. no aikido. no swimming. no running.
when kimi was still in my tummy, i worried about being alone in a cold country, on my own, no yayas, no family nearby. kimi's been out for more than a week and i am still basking in the glow of his miraculous birth, the wonderful timing of his coming into the world... i am content, filled with peace, happy. if i have cried in the past few days, it's been out of petty frustrations like not being able to fix the room of the boys to look like a real boy's room. S took me to a shop earlier today and the sales have begun... we were able to purchase some maternity stuff for me which i have long hankered for and this helped dispel some of my crankiness. so nothing lasting there, no dark cloud of depression despite the biting cold. we even had to dive into a café so i could breastfeed kimi who was bawling in hunger. he even had kaka in his nappy which i changed right on the seat of the resto.
no depression for me this time, even if the same people who ignored mikka are steadfastly ignoring me now. i don't need their affirmation anymore. i guess you can say i am a much more secure lara now than i was years ago, when cretinous siblings ignored me and prioritised their friends and other family over me and left me feeling rejected. i can still remember bea chiding me gently and not so gently about this: "lara, stop tying your sense of worth to these people!!! you are lovely in your own special way and you don't need them!" bea dear, you are so right. today, i am surrounded by wonderful friends here in leuven and brussels, cyber friends are completely great (the berks top the list of course!), and real friends and family never fail to come through in momentous occasions like these.
i am now excitedly looking forward to kimi's christening this coming february. it's going to be a double celebration since i'll be celebrating my 35th birthday then. so much to be thankful and happy for in this life! :)
here's my feeling madonna moment with my son kimi...
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