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.
31.1.06
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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