fragile like a baby in your arms... be gentle with me... --- depeche mode
my sister in law was the most recent to tell me: stop trusting too easily. the older i get, the harder it gets for me to cope with people's misjudgements and misperceptions of me. the latest kabam that happened had to do with a bunch of people i thought were my friends (in my multiply, they were listed as "friends" instead of "online buddies") and who were quick to believe the word of someone they had never met. without asking me if what they had heard was true, they immediately assumed the worst about me and turned cold. i felt it but i didn't want to assume that they would do something so... well, so silly. after all, we had broken bread together, in the case of the one person who had spread the chismis, we had met twice... but it wasn't enough!
they were content to let their insecurities (that's the only thing i can think of at this point) to get the better of them and for them to just take the easy way out (read: assume Svelte Rogue is the evil, konyotic, elitist, pa-santa girl she is). at a great price: breach of trust and friendship. because through it all, i waited for them, just ONE of them, to ask me how i was (i was sad throughout the entire stupid drama), for the chismosas to ask me if what they had heard was true... but not a word, not even a squeak. then my email inbox exploded with the most horrific letter (this part edited out of prudence --- what i can muster at least*), copy furnished to everyone who had been part of the (edited to:) situation* (except for one girl who was at the heart of their malicious talk). and then to top it off, other people replied to that email, assuming that accusations hurled in that email were true. take this line: i'm sorry, rogue, that you did this... wt(edited to:) hell??? the person who wrote that line has no right to feel sad or what-have-you (edited to: will feel sad, naturally, and it will be partly because understanding was not sought), considering she didn't even bother to ask me what i was feeling, of what had happened. the nerve.
i never replied to that email. let them think what they want. to take back what i wrote earlier, ONE person did ask me how i was. she was the one who told me that there was a nasty email sitting in my inbox... she stayed up with me way past midnight, bearing the initial reactions from me (i thought i wasn't bothered or maybe i was just trying to project that). if anything, for every 10 insecure demons in the dark, it takes only 1 pure angel of light to dispel the malicious murmurings of small-minded people. for that girl, that beautiful angel, i will always be grateful. she may not be my closest friend in the world but she definitely cared enough to ask me how i was doing and expressed concern that this situation might do harm to my baby.
then this is where i made my mistake. i told my true-blue 'friends' about the mess. showed them the email. my rationale? turn to them in need. reaction? the person i knew in real life, whom i had spent a year with in my jvp experience, believed the email accusations (et tu, brute???) and to cut the story short, turned her back on me. in a most unceremonial fashion too, i might add. but i stood silently (well, i did squeak a bit but to no avail). of course she would be hurt by the strength of that email (like i told you, it was edited to: strong) but i had hoped, too much now i realise, that she would see beyond it and see ME. i guess she never got to that point. she just assumed that she had to cut out the person causing the harm and in her eyes, that person was me. even if i had not made any move against anyone at all in everything that had transpired. that's why it was a mistake because i had showed her that email, thinking she would somehow, somehow, see through it.
as i write this now, days after the fact, resignation is sitting serenely in my bones. when i told my sister in law about this most arrogant "friend's" actions, she had the sweetest, blunt words for me: ditch the bitch and move on. :) nothing like family to be on your side when even your real-life friends avoid you like the plague.
so bloggie world, in this space you will read me and most of my thoughts uncensored. for you to enjoy your stay here, it would be best if i didn't know you from real life (doesn't apply to my best friend, family, and cool friends) because knowing you doesn't necessarily mean that we move in the same circles. if you're a blogger, you're either someone who has found me intimidating strong-willed or whatever impression you have based on my use of words (it is my business to wield them). so stay if you wish but please, don't use me for your politics in whatever egroup forum you have. from now on, wala akong paki sa mga intriga ninyong lahat. pati kayong tinuring kong tunay na kaibigan.
so, tuloy ang inuman!!! quarterfinals na ng french open. time to enjoy art in motion.
editing done friday, 4 june 2005. let this be the only thing anyone will ever know about this affair. after this day, i don't even want to talk about this sh*t anymore. it has caused enough hurt and stress as it is (even to well-meaning people). i will say no more.
31.5.05
29.5.05
belated round 3 thoughts
during the french open yesterday, the 2nd day of round 3, i was able to catch two women's singles matches. the first one was an all-russian affair: sharapova versus chakvetadze. a grand slam titlist versus a fresh-faced teenager. both were slim, with long blond hair (the number two seed had hers in a glorious pony tail while the younger player had hers in a thick braid) capped by a visor, wearing crosses on a gold chain. and get this: similar outfits. feminine tennis dresses that highlighted their lean legs and beautiful figures. the only way i could tell them apart was by the colour of their clothes. sharapova was in nike pink while chakvetadze was in light blue. it was quite uncanny. and it definitely provided eye candy to the appreciative members of the audience. i'm sure my dad and brother enjoyed the match immensely, even if it was lacklustre in the area of rallies and winners; it was a slugfest that was lost rather than won. statistics revealed an embarrassingly high number of unforced errors. you can read the story here.
the second women's match was like watching wonder twins power activate. i thought i was seeing double. the split screen with the players warming up for the match showed two women wearing the same grey and white adidas outfit, from the cap to the shoes. both players even had the same length of hair, were wearing similar stud earrings, and sported the same body build (stocky and short). they both had a bit of tummy bulging a little over the mini skirt. it was amusing, to say the least. i later found out it was belgium's pride, justin henin-hardenne, against the hardy spaniard, anabel medina garrigues. i could identify henin-hardenne by the bandage on her hamstring but otherwise, it was difficult to ascertain who was who during the rallies, especially if i didn't know who had served the game. you can read the story here.
all in all, i thoroughly enjoyed what i did catch. the clay courts at roland garros are heating up as we enter round 4. this is still my favorite grand slam event. i've seen priceless matches on this surface, my favorite being the french open finals the year steffi graf retired (right after winning the french open from martina hingis). what a match!!! the german powerhouse in a slim package outclassed the impetuous swiss miss who resorted to all sorts of tricks and tears to win. if anything, it probably also signaled the demise of hingis' career.
the second women's match was like watching wonder twins power activate. i thought i was seeing double. the split screen with the players warming up for the match showed two women wearing the same grey and white adidas outfit, from the cap to the shoes. both players even had the same length of hair, were wearing similar stud earrings, and sported the same body build (stocky and short). they both had a bit of tummy bulging a little over the mini skirt. it was amusing, to say the least. i later found out it was belgium's pride, justin henin-hardenne, against the hardy spaniard, anabel medina garrigues. i could identify henin-hardenne by the bandage on her hamstring but otherwise, it was difficult to ascertain who was who during the rallies, especially if i didn't know who had served the game. you can read the story here.
all in all, i thoroughly enjoyed what i did catch. the clay courts at roland garros are heating up as we enter round 4. this is still my favorite grand slam event. i've seen priceless matches on this surface, my favorite being the french open finals the year steffi graf retired (right after winning the french open from martina hingis). what a match!!! the german powerhouse in a slim package outclassed the impetuous swiss miss who resorted to all sorts of tricks and tears to win. if anything, it probably also signaled the demise of hingis' career.
pulling the plug
while talking to S over late lunch today, a thought sliced through the emotional fog coating the moment.
scenario: someone is about to pull the plug on you. just as the plug is to be pulled, sparks of life course through your veins. then like a power outage, everything is snuffed out as the plug is disconnected from the wall.
parallelism: just when i had made what i thought were essential or fundamental decisions regarding my relationship with cyberspace, the new sparks of realisations were snuffed out.
some things can't be helped. i can understand and respect the decisions and the motivations behind the decisions. life goes on. and in line with the new outlook towards this mundane space of the internet, this can only flow through me and take everything along with it and leave, in the end, only peace and more wisdom.
scenario: someone is about to pull the plug on you. just as the plug is to be pulled, sparks of life course through your veins. then like a power outage, everything is snuffed out as the plug is disconnected from the wall.
parallelism: just when i had made what i thought were essential or fundamental decisions regarding my relationship with cyberspace, the new sparks of realisations were snuffed out.
some things can't be helped. i can understand and respect the decisions and the motivations behind the decisions. life goes on. and in line with the new outlook towards this mundane space of the internet, this can only flow through me and take everything along with it and leave, in the end, only peace and more wisdom.
28.5.05
upswing
there was this musical we had in high school where we, the cast, were happily belting out the line, "everything's coming up rooooossssseeeeesssss!!!!" oh the fun of those days. my stressors looked like this: choir rehearsal, gymnastics, boy-watching, hang out. there was a scholarship to maintain and which i luckily got to keep for all of 7 years while getting to know some of the brightest people my age. one of them was given an honorary title at rutger's university several years back after he stepped off a ledge and died. he was brilliant, shourjo madhab. so they set up a memorial for him. and he sat next to me in calculus and chemistry IB. his locker was just a few numbers down from mine in the senior lounge and well, he was just such a roly poly geek.
ahhh my mood's on an upswing. parent center has told me that in my 9th week i should expect more mood swings and since i've had practice the last few weeks, i'm getting the hang of it. i just have to shake off my sleepiness in the afternoons and go swimming again, before my tummy pops out. i will have to get myself a sports bikini. i intend to keep swimming until my 8th month or until the doc says i can.
just last week my bike rammed into the rear bumper of this ill (silly) belgian driver who was cutting me off. i swear i flew off my seat and the rear tire of my bike went 30 degrees or so into the air. i thought i would end up on top of her trunk! i remember explaining the road rule of priority to her spaced out-ness. we exchanged numbers but i don't feel like pursuing this any longer. it's not like i'll get anything out of it plus! it's stress i don't want.
my mood is rising... the temperatures have reached the 20s. when i went to pick up my son earlier from kinder class, i felt like a certified MILF. not caring if people saw my slightly protruding belly, i donned a spag strap number and skorts (yes, a wrap around shorts number that looks like a skirt in front). i enjoyed the admiring glances and thought that if i didn't have the giveaway child seat on the back of my bike, i could have turned my arms on the handlebars to exhibit my toned arms further. hehehe the little quirks a crazy girl like me enjoys from time to time. hindi ba naman gaganda muscles ko sa kabubuhat sa 20 kilos na bata at sa pagbibisikleta sa mga pataas pababa dito! hehehe
mas masaya na ako lately and i'm glad. really really glad. hope this continues! as my dear classmate in linguistics loves to say, tata...
ahhh my mood's on an upswing. parent center has told me that in my 9th week i should expect more mood swings and since i've had practice the last few weeks, i'm getting the hang of it. i just have to shake off my sleepiness in the afternoons and go swimming again, before my tummy pops out. i will have to get myself a sports bikini. i intend to keep swimming until my 8th month or until the doc says i can.
just last week my bike rammed into the rear bumper of this ill (silly) belgian driver who was cutting me off. i swear i flew off my seat and the rear tire of my bike went 30 degrees or so into the air. i thought i would end up on top of her trunk! i remember explaining the road rule of priority to her spaced out-ness. we exchanged numbers but i don't feel like pursuing this any longer. it's not like i'll get anything out of it plus! it's stress i don't want.
my mood is rising... the temperatures have reached the 20s. when i went to pick up my son earlier from kinder class, i felt like a certified MILF. not caring if people saw my slightly protruding belly, i donned a spag strap number and skorts (yes, a wrap around shorts number that looks like a skirt in front). i enjoyed the admiring glances and thought that if i didn't have the giveaway child seat on the back of my bike, i could have turned my arms on the handlebars to exhibit my toned arms further. hehehe the little quirks a crazy girl like me enjoys from time to time. hindi ba naman gaganda muscles ko sa kabubuhat sa 20 kilos na bata at sa pagbibisikleta sa mga pataas pababa dito! hehehe
mas masaya na ako lately and i'm glad. really really glad. hope this continues! as my dear classmate in linguistics loves to say, tata...
26.5.05
heto kayong lahat umph!!!
ang saya saya mag blog, alam niyo yon? nothing beats the amazing concept behind blogging. you can rant and rave and do whatever the hell you want in your own byte of space called the world wide web and no one ought to infringe on your prerogative to just write. bahala na si spiderman kung anong klaseng kalibre mailabas mo sa iyong pagsusulat but hey malay, this is a free country!
sa kabila kong mundo, na-realise ko na kung talagang i will enjoy anything --- and that includes the B word... Blogging! --- i will have to first believe in its goodness, then embrace that belief in order to own it (which means being true to myself and not some gardem hypocrite!), and then pursue it with passion and excellence. in all areas, aba! i see no problems with that because, well, i was made for excellence, i am passion personified, and love (or lust) is my DNA's central code!!!
whap bam boogey... i feel like a dance. yun pa isa. ang sarap sumayaw!!! if there's one thing i love, it's dancing. it's my (not secret anymore) first love, even over singing. but then i think i revealed this in my other blogger account, don sa 100 tips or something, kung magtyaga kayo, makikita nyo ata don, unless i edited it already (i have edited that entry twice or thrice na ata). kapag marunong kang sumayaw at makisayaw, i believe kuha mo na ang secret of harmony. kelangan natutumbukan mo ang natural rhythm ng pakner mo, nakukuha mo ang bawat pintig ng bawat galaw niya at parang nababasa mo na kung san papunta ang sunod na tibok ng kanyang buhay para seamless ang dance step.
ganyan din ang blogging. may pinakikisamahan ka at pag mahanap mo na ang iyong grub (groove yan, mga dahlingz), aba, kahit nakapikit ka o mabulag ka pa, you can dance with your blog-harmo-mates kahit wala pang tugtog. dyan mo lang masasabing masarap mag blog. otherwise, if you have other motives in mind, like pasikat here and there, making talbog the other blogs here and there, making parinig and whatever, sira ang harmoness! sira lahat.
kaya mga kapatid, kung DI lang ang hinahanap niyo, narito lang ako, at your service. come a-knockin' and i'll come a-answerin' mah door. and don't forget the sexy music. favorite ko ang mga latin dances: rhumba, cha-cha, reggae, samba. puede rin sa akin ang foxtrot (ay kilig) at dirty dancing (giling giling). wag lang yung magbabali ka ng buto sa dance floor, di ko yan feel!!!
and before i go, check out the links i peppered all over this blog... ang saya saya, puede mo ring kasayaw ang mga mapupuntahan niyo!!! tulad nga nang sabi ni delish, "alang basagan ng trip!" ha-yaaaah!!!!
sa kabila kong mundo, na-realise ko na kung talagang i will enjoy anything --- and that includes the B word... Blogging! --- i will have to first believe in its goodness, then embrace that belief in order to own it (which means being true to myself and not some gardem hypocrite!), and then pursue it with passion and excellence. in all areas, aba! i see no problems with that because, well, i was made for excellence, i am passion personified, and love (or lust) is my DNA's central code!!!
whap bam boogey... i feel like a dance. yun pa isa. ang sarap sumayaw!!! if there's one thing i love, it's dancing. it's my (not secret anymore) first love, even over singing. but then i think i revealed this in my other blogger account, don sa 100 tips or something, kung magtyaga kayo, makikita nyo ata don, unless i edited it already (i have edited that entry twice or thrice na ata). kapag marunong kang sumayaw at makisayaw, i believe kuha mo na ang secret of harmony. kelangan natutumbukan mo ang natural rhythm ng pakner mo, nakukuha mo ang bawat pintig ng bawat galaw niya at parang nababasa mo na kung san papunta ang sunod na tibok ng kanyang buhay para seamless ang dance step.
ganyan din ang blogging. may pinakikisamahan ka at pag mahanap mo na ang iyong grub (groove yan, mga dahlingz), aba, kahit nakapikit ka o mabulag ka pa, you can dance with your blog-harmo-mates kahit wala pang tugtog. dyan mo lang masasabing masarap mag blog. otherwise, if you have other motives in mind, like pasikat here and there, making talbog the other blogs here and there, making parinig and whatever, sira ang harmoness! sira lahat.
kaya mga kapatid, kung DI lang ang hinahanap niyo, narito lang ako, at your service. come a-knockin' and i'll come a-answerin' mah door. and don't forget the sexy music. favorite ko ang mga latin dances: rhumba, cha-cha, reggae, samba. puede rin sa akin ang foxtrot (ay kilig) at dirty dancing (giling giling). wag lang yung magbabali ka ng buto sa dance floor, di ko yan feel!!!
and before i go, check out the links i peppered all over this blog... ang saya saya, puede mo ring kasayaw ang mga mapupuntahan niyo!!! tulad nga nang sabi ni delish, "alang basagan ng trip!" ha-yaaaah!!!!
17.5.05
weirded out
right now my hormones are playing havoc on my body and emotions. just last night, while writing an email to a good friend (whom i have never met but would love to), tears started clouding my vision and i ended up sobbing on my husband's lap.
i don't know of what i'm scared, really. giving birth alone in a foreign country in the middle of winter could be among the factors... being among fellow filipinos who cannot empathise with my situation as a married and pregnant woman. sigh. i miss my barkada back home. the cyber blogkada i have sometimes aggravates the loneliness and feelings of self-pity. the people in there are very empathetic and sympathetic... but the most i can get close to them is through my keyboard and computer screen. i would give quite a lot just to embrace any one of my fellow berks. talk about wishful thinking.
and my hunger cycle has gone haywire. i get hungry practically every 2 hours or so... but not all kinds of food appeal to me. i've been craving for thai and italian food for the past 2 weeks but the husband has ignored my parinigs and insists on the typical oily filipino fare that turns my stomach! ugh, the sight of so much fat swimming in its own oil is sickening. i would do anything for spicy tom yum soup and chicken pandan... oh dear, this is not making things any better.
enough of this whining.
i don't know of what i'm scared, really. giving birth alone in a foreign country in the middle of winter could be among the factors... being among fellow filipinos who cannot empathise with my situation as a married and pregnant woman. sigh. i miss my barkada back home. the cyber blogkada i have sometimes aggravates the loneliness and feelings of self-pity. the people in there are very empathetic and sympathetic... but the most i can get close to them is through my keyboard and computer screen. i would give quite a lot just to embrace any one of my fellow berks. talk about wishful thinking.
and my hunger cycle has gone haywire. i get hungry practically every 2 hours or so... but not all kinds of food appeal to me. i've been craving for thai and italian food for the past 2 weeks but the husband has ignored my parinigs and insists on the typical oily filipino fare that turns my stomach! ugh, the sight of so much fat swimming in its own oil is sickening. i would do anything for spicy tom yum soup and chicken pandan... oh dear, this is not making things any better.
enough of this whining.
29.3.05
sushi
i've known him since 1991. i was in college, he was in high school. we were both part of the new parish choir that would sing at 6 am. then, i didn't know he existed and he thought i was one of the unreachable and arrogant oldies of the group. i was the "in via" musical director, not my official title but my de facto job. he was one of the best singers. i noticed this 7 months after the choir's conception. we were rehearsing for caroling and a christmas presentation, and i was trying to teach the men the scale of notes leading towards a diminished harmony in (eudy's version of) "pasko na, sinta ko". only he got it on the first try. that got my attention immediately. after that, i wondered why i had never noticed him before. he was unassuming, so much so he almost appeared drab and mousy. but that was just his style. he liked to recede and let others shine. with his intelligence, he helped friends discover their strengths and shine on their own.
he's an amazing writer, and despite the 5 year gap between us, i could see his talent. he did come from a family of writers, so that should not have surprised me. i suppose i was more awed than surprised. he was so young, but he wrote from a wellspring of such depth that could only speak of a life filled with pain.
how i loved him. love is so short, forgetting, too long. (neruda) my boyfriends were wary of him but could not deny the inexplicable bond between us. even now, in spite of the vast distance between us, i know that he will be with me always. when it dawned on him that i was really going to marry S, he went ballistic. all the years before that decision, he had been the man in my life, even when i had a boyfriend. he was the only man i begged to marry me, and the only man to tell me, "i'm sorry, i don't love you enough." the only time he knew he was losing me for good was when he saw me break off my engagement to his friend so i could be with S.
he stood as a secondary sponsor at my wedding, and absolutely refused to become my "man of honour". i felt that he knew me best in the world, even more than any woman, so i insisted that he be my 'man of honour'. think of all the rumours that would fly, he implored me after one of my tantrums, hoping to sway him in his resolve. i relented. i knew that in spirit, he would be the man of the hour, taking care of the tiny details that only a best friend can. and he did. of course he did. i never doubted he would come through for me. ever.
even if he is perenially tardy. i've lost more hair than i can count and ground more teeth to cavity hell to remember if he was ever on time for significant events. i might as well scratch my way to the grave before i can come up with any clear memory of his being punctual. now that's one for the books!!! but it really doesn't matter that he is always late. because he has never abandoned me. i can never once recall an instance of him turning his back on me, of him throwing in the towel. in spite of our bitter quarrels... the painful words hurled at each other... the hurtful invectives. through the torrent of my meanness he has emerged, quick to forgive, always willing to give.
i'm his only best friend. as he will be mine. until the day we die.
where is he now? halfway around the world, encrypting programs for an american software giant. i feel his absence like a breath held too long. after good friday, black saturday, and easter sunday, i realise i will never have another friend like him. i might run after all the elusive friendships here in europe, but his will hold me up when i have no one to talk to. he is the only one who can make me burst into tears through yahoo chat and the only person who can finish my every thought and feel my every pain. we share silence like an old blanket on a rainy night or a mug of hot chocolate in the wee small hours of the morning.
i miss you, sushi. if you only knew how much. don't you ever forget that i'm here for you. you can yell my head off... but not without me clawing back, of course. :)
he's an amazing writer, and despite the 5 year gap between us, i could see his talent. he did come from a family of writers, so that should not have surprised me. i suppose i was more awed than surprised. he was so young, but he wrote from a wellspring of such depth that could only speak of a life filled with pain.
how i loved him. love is so short, forgetting, too long. (neruda) my boyfriends were wary of him but could not deny the inexplicable bond between us. even now, in spite of the vast distance between us, i know that he will be with me always. when it dawned on him that i was really going to marry S, he went ballistic. all the years before that decision, he had been the man in my life, even when i had a boyfriend. he was the only man i begged to marry me, and the only man to tell me, "i'm sorry, i don't love you enough." the only time he knew he was losing me for good was when he saw me break off my engagement to his friend so i could be with S.
he stood as a secondary sponsor at my wedding, and absolutely refused to become my "man of honour". i felt that he knew me best in the world, even more than any woman, so i insisted that he be my 'man of honour'. think of all the rumours that would fly, he implored me after one of my tantrums, hoping to sway him in his resolve. i relented. i knew that in spirit, he would be the man of the hour, taking care of the tiny details that only a best friend can. and he did. of course he did. i never doubted he would come through for me. ever.
even if he is perenially tardy. i've lost more hair than i can count and ground more teeth to cavity hell to remember if he was ever on time for significant events. i might as well scratch my way to the grave before i can come up with any clear memory of his being punctual. now that's one for the books!!! but it really doesn't matter that he is always late. because he has never abandoned me. i can never once recall an instance of him turning his back on me, of him throwing in the towel. in spite of our bitter quarrels... the painful words hurled at each other... the hurtful invectives. through the torrent of my meanness he has emerged, quick to forgive, always willing to give.
i'm his only best friend. as he will be mine. until the day we die.
where is he now? halfway around the world, encrypting programs for an american software giant. i feel his absence like a breath held too long. after good friday, black saturday, and easter sunday, i realise i will never have another friend like him. i might run after all the elusive friendships here in europe, but his will hold me up when i have no one to talk to. he is the only one who can make me burst into tears through yahoo chat and the only person who can finish my every thought and feel my every pain. we share silence like an old blanket on a rainy night or a mug of hot chocolate in the wee small hours of the morning.
i miss you, sushi. if you only knew how much. don't you ever forget that i'm here for you. you can yell my head off... but not without me clawing back, of course. :)
7.3.05
parameters
more than a year in belgium already and the clock never stops ticking. am used to the language (tho i do not know it yet --- not fluently, at least), the way people look. even the way people behave around asians. they do think that anyone asian is chinese. (that kind of ignorance i am learning to ignore)
snow is really something. it sends mikka into dizzying spirals of joy. it cuts my yea
rs in half. and that of S's, too. at night, it fills the air with magic. i keep reminding myself to savour these precious moments. pag-uwi ko sa atin, wala na 'to. sa ngayon, di ko na-mi-miss ang init, usok at pawis. not yet. i haven't gotten sick enough times to yearn for warmer climes. the time will come, i know. it's just a speck on the window sill for now. years from now, when mikka's old enough to understand the value of reminiscing, i want to tell him, "one time, you, papa, and i were walking through the streets in the evening. and we danced through snow! it fell from the sky like giant cotton balls. your eyes were slits and your laughter echoed off the wet stones of that old city. you were so happy. our hearts were jumping that night."
and then i have perennial fears. of bullies, and bloody accidents, and meanness all around. i keep thinking that if i could spare my son my life, i would. but then again, that's how i learned to be stronger. i wouldn't be who i am today without all those slips and falls. but if my son could be as wise as i am now without having to fall the way i did, i would sleep more easily in the nights and years before me. ngayon pa nga lang, uneasy na ako e. oh well. only time will tell what shall betide us all.
snow is really something. it sends mikka into dizzying spirals of joy. it cuts my yea
rs in half. and that of S's, too. at night, it fills the air with magic. i keep reminding myself to savour these precious moments. pag-uwi ko sa atin, wala na 'to. sa ngayon, di ko na-mi-miss ang init, usok at pawis. not yet. i haven't gotten sick enough times to yearn for warmer climes. the time will come, i know. it's just a speck on the window sill for now. years from now, when mikka's old enough to understand the value of reminiscing, i want to tell him, "one time, you, papa, and i were walking through the streets in the evening. and we danced through snow! it fell from the sky like giant cotton balls. your eyes were slits and your laughter echoed off the wet stones of that old city. you were so happy. our hearts were jumping that night."and then i have perennial fears. of bullies, and bloody accidents, and meanness all around. i keep thinking that if i could spare my son my life, i would. but then again, that's how i learned to be stronger. i wouldn't be who i am today without all those slips and falls. but if my son could be as wise as i am now without having to fall the way i did, i would sleep more easily in the nights and years before me. ngayon pa nga lang, uneasy na ako e. oh well. only time will tell what shall betide us all.
27.2.05
little mountain
with beatles playing in the background, my son snoring lightly on our bed and the temperature taking us below zero... that pile of laundry could sure give me some needed warmth. i just have to fold the stuff, anyway.
after a draining saturday night, i'm not sure i want to do anything. how is it that you can pour yourself into these affairs and hope to be charged no matter what, only to end up feeling helplessly low and out?
i've finished snooping into the lives of others via their blogs. something's brewing over in justice's world, so soon after her idyllic honeymoon. i feel for the woman. talk about beleaguered!
if i could climb every mountain and search every byway, i would be a much better homemaker and disciplined student. in every aspect. back in the mists of my memory is a blind masseuse who sees into people's souls with her deft fingers. i can still remember her neatly tied hair and soft voice telling me about how her baby was killed while she was cooking. she did not see her older child push the infant to its death. (duh, bulag nga diba? ay anovayan svelte...) and how her womanising husband left her when he found out, and not without blaming her first for their child's death. in her last massages was a deep and scalding sadness that lingered on my limbs long after the oils had settled into my skin.
it's one of those unmoving sundays. if i stepped out into this sub-zero weather, the mind will freeze over. how the sun doth mock us in these times. if i moved forward into the next days, will something new happen in this life? or will it be this same dread with the tiny claws that cling to the recesses of my molars?
but if i can just scale this mountain of laundry, maybe, just maybe, things will look up.
after a draining saturday night, i'm not sure i want to do anything. how is it that you can pour yourself into these affairs and hope to be charged no matter what, only to end up feeling helplessly low and out?
i've finished snooping into the lives of others via their blogs. something's brewing over in justice's world, so soon after her idyllic honeymoon. i feel for the woman. talk about beleaguered!
if i could climb every mountain and search every byway, i would be a much better homemaker and disciplined student. in every aspect. back in the mists of my memory is a blind masseuse who sees into people's souls with her deft fingers. i can still remember her neatly tied hair and soft voice telling me about how her baby was killed while she was cooking. she did not see her older child push the infant to its death. (duh, bulag nga diba? ay anovayan svelte...) and how her womanising husband left her when he found out, and not without blaming her first for their child's death. in her last massages was a deep and scalding sadness that lingered on my limbs long after the oils had settled into my skin.
it's one of those unmoving sundays. if i stepped out into this sub-zero weather, the mind will freeze over. how the sun doth mock us in these times. if i moved forward into the next days, will something new happen in this life? or will it be this same dread with the tiny claws that cling to the recesses of my molars?
but if i can just scale this mountain of laundry, maybe, just maybe, things will look up.
24.2.05
mix-up
this is strange. i do not characteristically blog what i'm about to blog in this space; on the other hand, i just put up a rather.... "night-y" entry in jumba day. so things are pretty much screwed up today.
but i've ignored these pages for more than 2 weeks. actually, not. i put in an entry 3 days ago but it stayed for all of 2 hours before i made it private and published it in another (more private and personal) space. still internet, of course, but with very high restrictions on access.
i feel winter more acutely now. it wasn't this cold last month, and compared to last year, this month's (feb) cold beats last year's cold. or maybe i didn't notice because i was just burrowing in the flat last year, being newly-arrived and all that. not used to the latitudes, looking ugly, skin drying up, hair shedding like crazy... the entire gamut.
anyhow, i just came from a book sale and i had fun. not total mental fun because i avoided the literature section completely. instead, i concentrated on the kiddie section and the music/film section. i got some titles of calvin & hobbes (in memory of ronald, may he rest in peace), i myself mine by george harrison (interested mainly in his notes about song creation and chord progression), some musicology genre books (jazz, blues, and celtic), and art "kunst" books that seemed frightfully cheap for a museum-looking book. but i went crazy over the activity books for mikka, the multi-media approach incorporated in them (with hand puppets and stickers and crayons and little pouches and pop ups), plus cheap toys for his little fingers and ever expanding mind. i'm sure he'll love the train set we got him (wooden pieces for the track plus wooden trains too) and the bob the builder kit. totally hawt, man! can't wait til april to give the stuff to mikka. he'll be thrilled!
but what am i babbling about? that was pure recreation. i stayed home from dutch class for the third time this week. i have 6 hours of work to catch up on next week!!!
went to hanau last weekend. i didn't get to see much of the outdoors saturday, when the party of cheH's S took place, hoping to do it on sunday morning before we caught the train back to belgium. but as luck would have it, i twisted my ankle on the giant slide!!! so with my foot aching like hell the following morning, i could only watch mournfully as husband and son donned their winter coats and went traipsing in the snow with U, cheH's husband. it was a riot. i met ruth, anP, cheH, jing, thess, elaine, and justice. we spent more time sitting around cheH's dining room table, yakking off our heads, than on our feet. we were feeling each other out, measuring, weighing... and boy, in our unguarded moments, pigging out on the yummy spread before us!!! maybe that would be the star of the show, or the starS, i might say. check this out: thai salad (piping hot and spicy, the way it should be), barbecue with sate sauce, paksiw na isda with aubergines (ano raw? talong lang yon), embotido, lumpia (both nights!!), lots and lots of wine (red and white) and german pale pilsen beer (only 4.5%, a far cry from our now-normal beer of 8.5%). the scene stealer? thess' killer dessert!!! fit for fancy dining and the works.
this will be cut short. the memory of all those delectable delights is making my tummy churn. signing off to raid the cupboards... end.
but i've ignored these pages for more than 2 weeks. actually, not. i put in an entry 3 days ago but it stayed for all of 2 hours before i made it private and published it in another (more private and personal) space. still internet, of course, but with very high restrictions on access.
i feel winter more acutely now. it wasn't this cold last month, and compared to last year, this month's (feb) cold beats last year's cold. or maybe i didn't notice because i was just burrowing in the flat last year, being newly-arrived and all that. not used to the latitudes, looking ugly, skin drying up, hair shedding like crazy... the entire gamut.
anyhow, i just came from a book sale and i had fun. not total mental fun because i avoided the literature section completely. instead, i concentrated on the kiddie section and the music/film section. i got some titles of calvin & hobbes (in memory of ronald, may he rest in peace), i myself mine by george harrison (interested mainly in his notes about song creation and chord progression), some musicology genre books (jazz, blues, and celtic), and art "kunst" books that seemed frightfully cheap for a museum-looking book. but i went crazy over the activity books for mikka, the multi-media approach incorporated in them (with hand puppets and stickers and crayons and little pouches and pop ups), plus cheap toys for his little fingers and ever expanding mind. i'm sure he'll love the train set we got him (wooden pieces for the track plus wooden trains too) and the bob the builder kit. totally hawt, man! can't wait til april to give the stuff to mikka. he'll be thrilled!
but what am i babbling about? that was pure recreation. i stayed home from dutch class for the third time this week. i have 6 hours of work to catch up on next week!!!
went to hanau last weekend. i didn't get to see much of the outdoors saturday, when the party of cheH's S took place, hoping to do it on sunday morning before we caught the train back to belgium. but as luck would have it, i twisted my ankle on the giant slide!!! so with my foot aching like hell the following morning, i could only watch mournfully as husband and son donned their winter coats and went traipsing in the snow with U, cheH's husband. it was a riot. i met ruth, anP, cheH, jing, thess, elaine, and justice. we spent more time sitting around cheH's dining room table, yakking off our heads, than on our feet. we were feeling each other out, measuring, weighing... and boy, in our unguarded moments, pigging out on the yummy spread before us!!! maybe that would be the star of the show, or the starS, i might say. check this out: thai salad (piping hot and spicy, the way it should be), barbecue with sate sauce, paksiw na isda with aubergines (ano raw? talong lang yon), embotido, lumpia (both nights!!), lots and lots of wine (red and white) and german pale pilsen beer (only 4.5%, a far cry from our now-normal beer of 8.5%). the scene stealer? thess' killer dessert!!! fit for fancy dining and the works.
this will be cut short. the memory of all those delectable delights is making my tummy churn. signing off to raid the cupboards... end.
3.2.05
gifted
when i was in 8th grade, the fashionable shoes were topsiders and penny loafers. pro keds were everywhere; for me, the more used they were, the better they were. i took pains to break in my espadrilles. there were also the requisite argyles that said, i'm cool just cool.
i've only a little over a hour left to this birthday of mine. no friends of old to knock on our gate and drink the night away, or text messages coming in every minute, enticing me to max out my post-paid bills, no isaw pulutan, no raucous jokes, no oohing over the forever-great weather this time of year.
today it was all espadrilles and keds. like slip-on cotton in the innermost room. patches of sun even came out and kissed my back, to which my man remarked, "look, god's embracing you." it was a nice walk home feeling his arm holding me close against his side, that insinuating hand sliding over my buttocks, contented and secretive smiles lingering in the air. i've found the time to wear out my cross trainers and outdoor shoes. they almost look like the sperry's i had for more than 8 years, which i gave up only because they were passe. what will i outgrow when i go back home in 2008? we'll see.
1115 pm. 45 minutes left. thank you, lord. this life's been fab thus far. easy and comfy. just the way i like it.
i've only a little over a hour left to this birthday of mine. no friends of old to knock on our gate and drink the night away, or text messages coming in every minute, enticing me to max out my post-paid bills, no isaw pulutan, no raucous jokes, no oohing over the forever-great weather this time of year.
today it was all espadrilles and keds. like slip-on cotton in the innermost room. patches of sun even came out and kissed my back, to which my man remarked, "look, god's embracing you." it was a nice walk home feeling his arm holding me close against his side, that insinuating hand sliding over my buttocks, contented and secretive smiles lingering in the air. i've found the time to wear out my cross trainers and outdoor shoes. they almost look like the sperry's i had for more than 8 years, which i gave up only because they were passe. what will i outgrow when i go back home in 2008? we'll see.
1115 pm. 45 minutes left. thank you, lord. this life's been fab thus far. easy and comfy. just the way i like it.
29.1.05
powerless
i have this strange dream sequence. i like how the word 'strange' rolls on my tongue; it adds to the disjointed sensation i get when i listen to sigma by secret garden. it's a scene straight out of "gladiator", sans the warrior hordes of the invading roman centurions. fields of wheat stretch for miles, blown by a gentle, omnipresent breeze. the sun is in my eyes, low in the western sky.
27.1.05
why not
long time ago, i wrote in my other blog that the "high life" was not for me. i was saying this in connection with having met my husband through teaching theology at university.
reading over this 'those-were-the-days' blog entry, there was so much i wanted to show, so much i wanted to establish in this cyberworld. i shan't link to it because i don't want those kinds of details occupying the foreground of your reading mind. i like this present set-up where you deal with my ideas without having to wonder where i'm from or what i do in this lifetime. (although i'm sure that we all want to do some exegesis of the person, know his context so we can better appreciate the story)
anyhow, i've always taken for granted the fact that i'm not cut out for the inner-lane existence, the yuppie life, the fast-track career. i used to think i was. i butted my head applying for some high-profile jobs in the past. there must have been a reason then for my turning down some offers and for getting rejected by some, too. i did have a two-year stint with a telecommunications company after my volunteer year. i remembered thinking, "i want to feel money in my hand. money that doesn't disappear the minute i get it."
sure, i had fun driving around on my own gas (literally), buying things i fancied, going to parties here and there... but it didn't seem to be enough. i was bored. i needed something more. i just didn't know what. so in my 2nd year in the corporate world, i started my MA. my boss then thought i was doing an MBA. when he found out i was doing an arts degree, he exclaimed, "what the hell will you do with that???" i must have killed him in my mind with a thousand flying daggers, but i also must have forgiven him for his jack-ass comment. of course he was in that silly thought-box that said, "if you want to make it big, you'll get an MBA." all i could hear in my head was this retort: "that's a load of horse-shit. why the hell would i want to be stuck with a boring MBA? hellow..." i mean, the corporate was boring me to tears and he wanted me to get an MBA? i'd be like a dog chasing his tail, nowhere near any answer. or satisfaction. i must have come into the realisation somewhere down the road that it wasn't so much that i wasn't getting enough; it was that i wasn't doing what was right. it wasn't so much a matter of things i hadn't yet done, but of doing things the proper way.
i know that after 8 years of teaching english, i feel burned out. my colleagues don't think much of me in this field; i can't do anything inspiring to prove to myself (or to them) that they're wrong. i consider this belgium stint a hiatus to recoup. i am trying to reaffirm what my strengths are and what i can realistically accomplish and for what i can aspire. i've recently discerned that in spite of my being burned out with teaching english to spoiled (read: rich and materialistic) college students, i still want to teach. there will be silly students, those who just want to get the latest cell phone or buy the latest fashionable things, but sometimes, they may just be mirroring my own silly ideas of what youth should be like. i mean, that's what being young is for, right? to make silly decisions and act in silly ways. sometimes, i think, i may have forgotten that i had been young once. with silly concerns. when this strikes, i realise that maybe those atenistas in my classroom weren't so bad after all. and that's when i just miss the whole teaching enterprise. i don't even have to teach english anymore (although i would still consider teaching english language and poetry, given the chance). if i'm to be happy in it, it would be music.
but i never miss being an up-and-coming corporate lackey. i just don't. i'm just not cut out for the daily grind. working fixed hours. pouring out my talents for profit.
i'm the kind of person who needs a job to fund my dreams. the pay is incidental; what is central is enjoying what i do. i get becky bloomwood moments, especially during sales. i yearn for tons of money if only to be able to buy cool sports wear or those boots i've been eyeing for months, or this nifty turtleneck that would look good against that new coat i got a few weeks ago... but these moments are like pebbles skittering across the tops of waves. once the urge passes, it's gone. until the next stimulus. until the next covetuous moment.
and having said all that, i hope to have come closer to asserting why... not.
reading over this 'those-were-the-days' blog entry, there was so much i wanted to show, so much i wanted to establish in this cyberworld. i shan't link to it because i don't want those kinds of details occupying the foreground of your reading mind. i like this present set-up where you deal with my ideas without having to wonder where i'm from or what i do in this lifetime. (although i'm sure that we all want to do some exegesis of the person, know his context so we can better appreciate the story)
anyhow, i've always taken for granted the fact that i'm not cut out for the inner-lane existence, the yuppie life, the fast-track career. i used to think i was. i butted my head applying for some high-profile jobs in the past. there must have been a reason then for my turning down some offers and for getting rejected by some, too. i did have a two-year stint with a telecommunications company after my volunteer year. i remembered thinking, "i want to feel money in my hand. money that doesn't disappear the minute i get it."
sure, i had fun driving around on my own gas (literally), buying things i fancied, going to parties here and there... but it didn't seem to be enough. i was bored. i needed something more. i just didn't know what. so in my 2nd year in the corporate world, i started my MA. my boss then thought i was doing an MBA. when he found out i was doing an arts degree, he exclaimed, "what the hell will you do with that???" i must have killed him in my mind with a thousand flying daggers, but i also must have forgiven him for his jack-ass comment. of course he was in that silly thought-box that said, "if you want to make it big, you'll get an MBA." all i could hear in my head was this retort: "that's a load of horse-shit. why the hell would i want to be stuck with a boring MBA? hellow..." i mean, the corporate was boring me to tears and he wanted me to get an MBA? i'd be like a dog chasing his tail, nowhere near any answer. or satisfaction. i must have come into the realisation somewhere down the road that it wasn't so much that i wasn't getting enough; it was that i wasn't doing what was right. it wasn't so much a matter of things i hadn't yet done, but of doing things the proper way.
i know that after 8 years of teaching english, i feel burned out. my colleagues don't think much of me in this field; i can't do anything inspiring to prove to myself (or to them) that they're wrong. i consider this belgium stint a hiatus to recoup. i am trying to reaffirm what my strengths are and what i can realistically accomplish and for what i can aspire. i've recently discerned that in spite of my being burned out with teaching english to spoiled (read: rich and materialistic) college students, i still want to teach. there will be silly students, those who just want to get the latest cell phone or buy the latest fashionable things, but sometimes, they may just be mirroring my own silly ideas of what youth should be like. i mean, that's what being young is for, right? to make silly decisions and act in silly ways. sometimes, i think, i may have forgotten that i had been young once. with silly concerns. when this strikes, i realise that maybe those atenistas in my classroom weren't so bad after all. and that's when i just miss the whole teaching enterprise. i don't even have to teach english anymore (although i would still consider teaching english language and poetry, given the chance). if i'm to be happy in it, it would be music.
but i never miss being an up-and-coming corporate lackey. i just don't. i'm just not cut out for the daily grind. working fixed hours. pouring out my talents for profit.
i'm the kind of person who needs a job to fund my dreams. the pay is incidental; what is central is enjoying what i do. i get becky bloomwood moments, especially during sales. i yearn for tons of money if only to be able to buy cool sports wear or those boots i've been eyeing for months, or this nifty turtleneck that would look good against that new coat i got a few weeks ago... but these moments are like pebbles skittering across the tops of waves. once the urge passes, it's gone. until the next stimulus. until the next covetuous moment.
and having said all that, i hope to have come closer to asserting why... not.
21.1.05
language bind
i think in english. lately, i wish i could think in my real mother tongue. not in those major languages like french, german, spanish, or chinese. my own tongue. sometimes one gets tired of listening to these *toot! (something unkind)* spout the wonders of their language, which, they assert, is a major language on the world stage. i want to go back home and sit next to the south china sea and watch the warm blue waters wrap itself around my ankles. and hear the languages of that country. i want to look into brown faces, into eyes unsullied by cynicism and faithlessness. among the simplest of peoples, it is easy to see why faith does not die.
here, among privileged citizens who know their rights, among people who have never experienced destitution, desperation, and plain fighting for a place in a jeepney or bus, the complacence, the smugness, is suffocating. soft laughter, thin foie gras on biscuits, glasses of wine, all the trappings of life over here. just listen to them deride anything and everything that is 'other' than who or what they are. and oh, listen to them talk ad nauseum about this wonderful expression in this language, or this fantastic place in northern europe, or this obsolete book in some obsolete book shop, or this and that piece of data that's all too intellectual and none too real. watch them devour pages and pages of theory and see them lost in a world inhabited by real people who watch mtv and drool over the latest stars on the red carpet of the golden globes or the oscar's.
pity the mollusk that seeks refuge in its shell only to find itself swooped up into someone's net and sucked out for pleasure in a stiff stuffy restaurant with muted laughter and conversation. where have those nights gone? when one could sit around a bonfire on a tropical beach, san mig in hand, smoke curling lazily to the stars, and talk about politics, one's dreams for the nation, and the hope of helping others in need.
it's just one of those days. or nights. there's this ennui that can't be shaken. it's so tempting to believe that all this world needs is self, self, and self. how tiresome. utterly so. hindi ko makita sarili ko sa salamin. nasaan na ba ako naroon? ay ay gajod.
here, among privileged citizens who know their rights, among people who have never experienced destitution, desperation, and plain fighting for a place in a jeepney or bus, the complacence, the smugness, is suffocating. soft laughter, thin foie gras on biscuits, glasses of wine, all the trappings of life over here. just listen to them deride anything and everything that is 'other' than who or what they are. and oh, listen to them talk ad nauseum about this wonderful expression in this language, or this fantastic place in northern europe, or this obsolete book in some obsolete book shop, or this and that piece of data that's all too intellectual and none too real. watch them devour pages and pages of theory and see them lost in a world inhabited by real people who watch mtv and drool over the latest stars on the red carpet of the golden globes or the oscar's.
pity the mollusk that seeks refuge in its shell only to find itself swooped up into someone's net and sucked out for pleasure in a stiff stuffy restaurant with muted laughter and conversation. where have those nights gone? when one could sit around a bonfire on a tropical beach, san mig in hand, smoke curling lazily to the stars, and talk about politics, one's dreams for the nation, and the hope of helping others in need.
it's just one of those days. or nights. there's this ennui that can't be shaken. it's so tempting to believe that all this world needs is self, self, and self. how tiresome. utterly so. hindi ko makita sarili ko sa salamin. nasaan na ba ako naroon? ay ay gajod.
14.1.05
home is where again?
if i'm wearing the right clothes, i'm in "it". the right moment. in the classroom this afternoon, i was decked out in classic belgian oral exam-wear: collared blouse, dark trousers, accent scarf, black overcoat, boots. as it has in the past, it helped boost my confidence and mask my insecurity. and i was delighted to discover that 6 degrees can be a very pleasant experience. i didn't have to be bundled in my normal student clothes of sports jackets, jeans, and rubber shoes. and i actually tried to tie my scarf in a feminine way; not in the usual bunched-around-the-neck-to-ward-off-the-cold way.
one year of looking at other people in the streets is finally rubbing off. this place has grown on me. i can feel it seeping into my marrow and settling comfortably on a settee. it's not hard to peer under the frosty facades of belgium. i was engaged in another one of those stare-down contests with the central library clock, which stood haughtily against a shockingly clear blue sky, daring him to hang his head. i lost.
i was perfectly content to meander along the way until my steps found home. but home isn't here, it's a continent and 7 time zones away, a little voice whispered. is it, i countered. home is with your energetic, bubbly, fresh-faced students, the ones you miss like crazy, another voice piped in. no, home is a few blocks away, over a little hill and down a cobbled street and up a tiny stairwell... my thoughts petered out. not in that cosy house tucked at the foothills of antipolo that watches the floods rush by in june?, wheedled voice number one. in my mind's eye there crossed a vague remembrance of strong wet drops on my windshield, the wiper whipping back and forth in vain. then a stronger image gripped me: imelda marcos and gma in what seemed to be an embrace, today's banner photo, at malacanang. i stifled an overwhelming desire to throw up. how could i go home to that? home is waffles and yoghurt and wool and turtlenecks and maillots. stern-faced bankers barking at me in stilted english, making me look like the fool they believe i am.
i don't want to go home anymore. because i am home.
one year of looking at other people in the streets is finally rubbing off. this place has grown on me. i can feel it seeping into my marrow and settling comfortably on a settee. it's not hard to peer under the frosty facades of belgium. i was engaged in another one of those stare-down contests with the central library clock, which stood haughtily against a shockingly clear blue sky, daring him to hang his head. i lost.
i was perfectly content to meander along the way until my steps found home. but home isn't here, it's a continent and 7 time zones away, a little voice whispered. is it, i countered. home is with your energetic, bubbly, fresh-faced students, the ones you miss like crazy, another voice piped in. no, home is a few blocks away, over a little hill and down a cobbled street and up a tiny stairwell... my thoughts petered out. not in that cosy house tucked at the foothills of antipolo that watches the floods rush by in june?, wheedled voice number one. in my mind's eye there crossed a vague remembrance of strong wet drops on my windshield, the wiper whipping back and forth in vain. then a stronger image gripped me: imelda marcos and gma in what seemed to be an embrace, today's banner photo, at malacanang. i stifled an overwhelming desire to throw up. how could i go home to that? home is waffles and yoghurt and wool and turtlenecks and maillots. stern-faced bankers barking at me in stilted english, making me look like the fool they believe i am.
i don't want to go home anymore. because i am home.
11.1.05
sunrise and sunset
when the soul seeks rest, it makes its way on invisible latitude lines towards the west, where the darkness kisses it first. when the bats of tuguegarao emerge from their cool caves at precisely 1820 hours every day, on the dot, guided by a preternal hand that points them towards the gathering dusk, they cannot ignore the need to feast. in the gloam, the world teems with life. when only the orbs of eyes gleam in the dark, the soul is replenished, the body renewed.just before day breaks, in that blackest moment before aurora's blush rims the eastern edge of the world, there one finds the deepest peace.
apollo's orb-laden chariot, streaking low across the eastern sky, is time for the soul to rejoice and dance. life-giving warmth infuses the entire being. another day. newness blossoms and morning glory embraces eternity in the span of 24 hours that is its lifetime. until the sun once more dips beyond the horizon and leaves us in shadow.
so it is with jumba night. you can find me here when darkness is draped over the soul. when these are thrown open in the morning light, my bikini self is ready for another day of baring flesh.
hot babe
unprotected love, even just once, can bear fruit in that indescribable miracle called life.
the other night i dreamed that my 2-year old son had gone from 2 to 20 and no longer wanted to sleep beside me. i woke up with a yawning hole in my chest, gnats of fear nibbling at the edges. there my toddler lay, breathing peacefully, all of 2 years and 8 months. i embraced him gently and waited for the light of day to brighten the room.
in that hazy world between fiery bursts of temper and blissful lassitude, i recall the times i yearn to be single again, to be accountable to no one but my whims, where the world is a snug fit around my shoulders and every additional piece of furniture exists at the fingertip of complete control. i sit very still, paralysed for endless lifetimes until the moment passes and the sun's slant has changed degree.
until recently. there was this irrational urge to cast aside all the questions and doubts nagging me the last months: if you have a baby soon, you'll not be able to travel. what about your plans to see europe? there's still so much to see. you've made so many new friends; how the hell will you be mobile now? heck, a family package of three is unwieldy enough and you still want to burden yourself with a fourth member? then there are all those potentially fun sleepovers in hidden corners of suburbia where only the unmarried are invited. (i asked a good friend why people thought only singles got lonely; one could be in the company of relatives and friends and still want a change of scenery is my perennial lament. the answer was horridly simplistic - singles are more flexible. ergo... )
the pendulum has swung slowly, irrevocably, to the other side. suddenly, this degree i'm pursuing means nothing. (when has it? wry smile) i've been tucking away memories and friendships into the heart's album the last few days; the uncharacteristic warmth of january has helped me to store these thoughts away lovingly as i wander among leuven's countless soldens and promoties. when the son turns 3, i pray to be on the way with his playmate. he is so affectionate towards other babies. intuition whispers he'll make a cool kuya. have i still something to prove as a mother? why this surging desire for the swollen abdomen? (aha, i know: i get my porn star boobs back!) and what timing, too! how the hey now do i do the "lande" routine this coming summer if i'm in oversized pants and tops? and what about the drinking sessions with my new friends...?
there's no turning back. i'm a crazed monster beckoning to those millions of xy-chromosomes. come to mommy, now. *lights out*
the other night i dreamed that my 2-year old son had gone from 2 to 20 and no longer wanted to sleep beside me. i woke up with a yawning hole in my chest, gnats of fear nibbling at the edges. there my toddler lay, breathing peacefully, all of 2 years and 8 months. i embraced him gently and waited for the light of day to brighten the room.
in that hazy world between fiery bursts of temper and blissful lassitude, i recall the times i yearn to be single again, to be accountable to no one but my whims, where the world is a snug fit around my shoulders and every additional piece of furniture exists at the fingertip of complete control. i sit very still, paralysed for endless lifetimes until the moment passes and the sun's slant has changed degree.
until recently. there was this irrational urge to cast aside all the questions and doubts nagging me the last months: if you have a baby soon, you'll not be able to travel. what about your plans to see europe? there's still so much to see. you've made so many new friends; how the hell will you be mobile now? heck, a family package of three is unwieldy enough and you still want to burden yourself with a fourth member? then there are all those potentially fun sleepovers in hidden corners of suburbia where only the unmarried are invited. (i asked a good friend why people thought only singles got lonely; one could be in the company of relatives and friends and still want a change of scenery is my perennial lament. the answer was horridly simplistic - singles are more flexible. ergo... )
the pendulum has swung slowly, irrevocably, to the other side. suddenly, this degree i'm pursuing means nothing. (when has it? wry smile) i've been tucking away memories and friendships into the heart's album the last few days; the uncharacteristic warmth of january has helped me to store these thoughts away lovingly as i wander among leuven's countless soldens and promoties. when the son turns 3, i pray to be on the way with his playmate. he is so affectionate towards other babies. intuition whispers he'll make a cool kuya. have i still something to prove as a mother? why this surging desire for the swollen abdomen? (aha, i know: i get my porn star boobs back!) and what timing, too! how the hey now do i do the "lande" routine this coming summer if i'm in oversized pants and tops? and what about the drinking sessions with my new friends...?
there's no turning back. i'm a crazed monster beckoning to those millions of xy-chromosomes. come to mommy, now. *lights out*
10.1.05
a whole new world...
it's a new year and i'm free! my home base blog is in another space but i can't change the settings. the not-being-able-to-blog-until-it's-revamped is an itch i have to scratch. i had to blog. again! (that's deontic modality for you!)
but now i want to keep myself in check this year. if i knew any html, i would like this blog to be in dark reds and heady purples. don't know why. my other blog has become too light-colored, too pastel-y, too tweetumsy i fall asleep just looking at it. zzzzz...
i believe in setting resolutions for the new year. i remember some of my old ones.
* for 1997, i vowed to be happy. 1996 was the worst year of my life (--- at the time. looking back, it remains unrivaled in the oh-help-me-god department).
* for 2001, i vowed to make Him happy. it's been 3 years and 9 months since that time. i will keep going --- "to infinity and beyond!"
* for 2004, i vowed to do a phillip booth, reminiscent of his poem "first lesson". to quote the favorite line: "lie back to the light year stars and let the waves take you to shore."
and for 2005? what does svelte rogue desire in this exciting new year? aside from the elusive state of being svelte, as i am forever rogue, i do have these gimme-gimme desires:
@ finish every single thing i begin, and to finish it well
@ cook better
@ learn dutch and german
@ enrol in piano and voice
@ make a new baby
my top 5 list. i'll leave the i-pod and car for 2006.
welcome to my new world! this year is a different adventure. i can smell it on the dew lounging on the hairless twig outside my window.
welcome home, svelty.
but now i want to keep myself in check this year. if i knew any html, i would like this blog to be in dark reds and heady purples. don't know why. my other blog has become too light-colored, too pastel-y, too tweetumsy i fall asleep just looking at it. zzzzz...
i believe in setting resolutions for the new year. i remember some of my old ones.
* for 1997, i vowed to be happy. 1996 was the worst year of my life (--- at the time. looking back, it remains unrivaled in the oh-help-me-god department).
* for 2001, i vowed to make Him happy. it's been 3 years and 9 months since that time. i will keep going --- "to infinity and beyond!"
* for 2004, i vowed to do a phillip booth, reminiscent of his poem "first lesson". to quote the favorite line: "lie back to the light year stars and let the waves take you to shore."
and for 2005? what does svelte rogue desire in this exciting new year? aside from the elusive state of being svelte, as i am forever rogue, i do have these gimme-gimme desires:
@ finish every single thing i begin, and to finish it well
@ cook better
@ learn dutch and german
@ enrol in piano and voice
@ make a new baby
my top 5 list. i'll leave the i-pod and car for 2006.
welcome to my new world! this year is a different adventure. i can smell it on the dew lounging on the hairless twig outside my window.
welcome home, svelty.
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