Written on a Friday morning when I am supposed to be in school but was held home because of a typical Leo problem: stomach ache
When I checked my Drive C space and found out I only have 3.93 GB disk space left, I panicked.
I may not know anything about computers (I honestly don’t), but I know I do not want my files to consume such diskspace.
So, I unlocked my secret chambers and decided to purged out unnecessary materials.
It was then that I came across My Men List. I believe I made this one three months ago.
Do you want to know what is written in there? Sure, have a peek.
My Men List
ü Mario Cimarro - striking facial features, long, curly hair (always the hairs), great body structure Flaw: he appears superficial
ü JMP (huh?)- an old crush in elementary. Very handsome in a sensually exotic manner, nice voice (tingles the spine), sharp brains, loves his nephew (I can see that) Flaw: he is almost married but has not finished college. A useless prospect
ü MP (the charcoal)-the crush to whom I promised to slim down. He just laughed. The tall, dark and handsome type. Flaw- he belonged in the lower section and has probably not finished highschool…and he made me cry
ü Dr. Jose Rizal- he is a genius in every aspect, a man of the world. Flaw: too many women, too self-conscious and egocentric
ü Joe Jonas (of the Jonas Brothers)-nice, bushy winged brows, kissable red lips and patrician nose plus fascinating voice and movement Flaw: he is too much in the spotlight
ü Prince William Arthur Philip Loius Mountbatten-Windsor (who again?)-childhood fancy prince, rich and privileged background plus fame and fortune (nothing more, all mercenary interest) Flaw: he has changed
ü Sir D. (the nutty professor, sa West)-intelligence and confidence plus similarity of interests Flaw: conceited and arrogant
ü The frustrated USC chair -principled campaign, upfront, and intelligence, it’s the attitude man! Flaw : too clinical, cold calculating and ruthless
ü The Global Man (the ultimate artist)-sense of humor, musical taste, and artistic bent Flaw: not too intelligent
ü Same Sounding Name (the student, sa West)-personality, attitude and beliefs even at a young age Flaw: Suplado
ü The Weird Wonder – similarity of interests, confidence and ease in communicating with others. Sense of humor, fun person, personality thing again Flaw: He is just a baby
ü Mr. Unexpected ( the late blooming crush) – artist also, intelligent, good communicator, understanding friend, nice companion, nice job now, nice family background Flaw: obsessed with an old childhood crush, has a girlfriend, a seafarer (don’t like them a lot)
ü JRP (first real crush) – nice face, cute smile, friendly, he just makes my heart beat too fast Flaw: he drinks a lot
ü JSP (the King) – tall, handsome, okay in the looks department , pedigreed background Flaw: he works as a clerk and lives in his sister’s place, not much of a recommendation
ü The Gay Vampire (the musician) – great voice, nice, wavy hair, nice body (he’s balanced), tall, good communication skills, sense of humor Flaw: he is gay
I mentioned gay vampire in tainted prince.
ü Heath Ledger (Cassanova)-delicious person. Great role and… just perfect Flaw: he is dead
ü My Dream Guy-musical, a philosopher, sweet, nice, romantic, great communicator, understanding, tall, big and bear like , God-centered, loves reading and studies. Someone like me in a way Flaw: he doesn’t exist
Oh, well. I know it always comes down to this. But, since I intend to fully remove this from my hard drive (purge the insignificant, cleanse the infected hehe…kanugon sang space bi), I decided to publish this short bit of kaengotan for posterity’s sake.
Who knows, I might be just like Rizal some day and people would want to know my everyday thoughts and the men I fancied (hehe). I mean, I wouldn’t want to give my researchers a hard time as Rizal did. Thank God for blogs.
And yes, those persons existed. Proof? They have flaws.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Politicking Mood
Written on a bland Sunday morning right after laptop was powered up and I have not yet drank my usual sugar-saturated hot coffee (that is why I am going to be a bit vitriolic here)
My little component city under the Philippine skies have existed for a long time. Granted that it has been a city for only several years, it is still no excuse for how it governs the precious residents that live in it.
When I passed by the Christmas Capital of our region, I was shocked to see a strange building illuminated by the festive lights of Christmas.
I was not able to recover from the fact that this municipality has a Municipal Library, Museum and Archives.
Yes, I was not able to enter the place and checked out the local artifacts. However, I still cannot deny the fact that it has provided for an infrastructure that would house the intellectual treasures of their town.
While we have a building portion for our City Information Office.
Huh?
Municipalities and Cities, according to the Local Government Code of the Philippines, should provide for the maintenance of a public library.
And what does our beautiful city have?
An office.
Duh. We have enough offices here to fill two cities.
What an insult. It sort of shows that the residents of this particular place is not interested in books or are too immersed in the economic and fiscal department to ever wonder about the glorious world of the arts and humanities.
I felt cheated. I am aware that several municipalities here in this region have public libraries. I mean, we are supposed to be a rich city. So why can’t we provide ourselves with a Public Library, Museum and Archives?
I am so freaked out about this.
And when I checked the local governemtn code, I found out that a whole book is dedicated to fiscal and financial matters.
Another huh.
I was supposed to be looking for some provisions about the moral duties of a local government to its constituents and what did I find?
A whole book on fiscal matters, taxation, real estate and bidding.
What does it show about human nature, huh? That because of our greed we cannot be trusted to regulate the funds using our conscience.
Soulless trapos.
And you know what, I really need to wipe up the table now so I could leave this space clean and dry.
Trapos are good for that. Keeping the slates clean.
I just hate politics!
My little component city under the Philippine skies have existed for a long time. Granted that it has been a city for only several years, it is still no excuse for how it governs the precious residents that live in it.
When I passed by the Christmas Capital of our region, I was shocked to see a strange building illuminated by the festive lights of Christmas.
I was not able to recover from the fact that this municipality has a Municipal Library, Museum and Archives.
Yes, I was not able to enter the place and checked out the local artifacts. However, I still cannot deny the fact that it has provided for an infrastructure that would house the intellectual treasures of their town.
While we have a building portion for our City Information Office.
Huh?
Municipalities and Cities, according to the Local Government Code of the Philippines, should provide for the maintenance of a public library.
And what does our beautiful city have?
An office.
Duh. We have enough offices here to fill two cities.
What an insult. It sort of shows that the residents of this particular place is not interested in books or are too immersed in the economic and fiscal department to ever wonder about the glorious world of the arts and humanities.
I felt cheated. I am aware that several municipalities here in this region have public libraries. I mean, we are supposed to be a rich city. So why can’t we provide ourselves with a Public Library, Museum and Archives?
I am so freaked out about this.
And when I checked the local governemtn code, I found out that a whole book is dedicated to fiscal and financial matters.
Another huh.
I was supposed to be looking for some provisions about the moral duties of a local government to its constituents and what did I find?
A whole book on fiscal matters, taxation, real estate and bidding.
What does it show about human nature, huh? That because of our greed we cannot be trusted to regulate the funds using our conscience.
Soulless trapos.
And you know what, I really need to wipe up the table now so I could leave this space clean and dry.
Trapos are good for that. Keeping the slates clean.
I just hate politics!
Jayrick's Case
Jayrick is one of the members of the Debating Club whom I got to know through several contests trainings and seminar-workshops.
Jayrick is fun to be with but I often feel that I am being measured against something. He is observant and when he does not speak much, I feel nervous. (But he is fun to be with especially when he interacts with Rey and Katrina).
Tall, lanky and serious. Those were my first descriptions of Jayrick. Lately, I realized that he is more than just a three-dimensional model of the stereotypical school geek.
He writes well (he has great command of the language) and thinks well. His journal (I was lucky enough to be allowed a peek) was really wacky without being tacky. The humor, though a bit, self- deploring, was quite funny and interesting in a literary way.
Aside from that, he can bake and he sort of feels insecure over that. (I do not know how to bake and I am a female).
He is the editor in chief of the school paper. I thought he deserved it out of sheer talent. I did hear some odd feedback by one teacher I know and I think that we, the teachers and advisers, are the ones who should make sure that the children we are tasked to mold knows the problem and how to solve it.
I wish I had the guts to inform her (the teacher) that. I mean, in the D. Club, Jayrick appears to be one of the most dedicated members. He, in fact, has worked hard for a lot of things for the club.
Was I mistaken on this? I think that he just needs to know that he is being relied upon to do something and that he will always be guided by his mentor.
Anyway, these kids just need to know not only what to do but how to do it as well.
I discovered that one common error among us teachers is that we tend to assume that the students know what we mean. I forgot that being a student actually puts one in a difficult position.
Jayrick is one nice potential that Passi National High School should recognize. No one should call it luck that he struck gold once. It is a milestone in his life and ought to be appreciated.
He may not have won major prizes now but I am sure that he can tell you he won much more than that.
There is no such thing as loosing. If you don’t win, you learn.
I have been a life long learner (yeah, you can say looser). But at least, I won much more than the winner did.
I may not have won much back in highschool and later on in life. But I won this place in time and space that allowed me to meet the likes of Jayrick.
To close this post, here is a quote from a movies I watched recently. (It is not a new movie but I tend to watch movies released years later).
Remember, life may lead you where you least expect, but have faith that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
-from the movie “ Snow Buddies”
Jayrick is fun to be with but I often feel that I am being measured against something. He is observant and when he does not speak much, I feel nervous. (But he is fun to be with especially when he interacts with Rey and Katrina).
Tall, lanky and serious. Those were my first descriptions of Jayrick. Lately, I realized that he is more than just a three-dimensional model of the stereotypical school geek.
He writes well (he has great command of the language) and thinks well. His journal (I was lucky enough to be allowed a peek) was really wacky without being tacky. The humor, though a bit, self- deploring, was quite funny and interesting in a literary way.
Aside from that, he can bake and he sort of feels insecure over that. (I do not know how to bake and I am a female).
He is the editor in chief of the school paper. I thought he deserved it out of sheer talent. I did hear some odd feedback by one teacher I know and I think that we, the teachers and advisers, are the ones who should make sure that the children we are tasked to mold knows the problem and how to solve it.
I wish I had the guts to inform her (the teacher) that. I mean, in the D. Club, Jayrick appears to be one of the most dedicated members. He, in fact, has worked hard for a lot of things for the club.
Was I mistaken on this? I think that he just needs to know that he is being relied upon to do something and that he will always be guided by his mentor.
Anyway, these kids just need to know not only what to do but how to do it as well.
I discovered that one common error among us teachers is that we tend to assume that the students know what we mean. I forgot that being a student actually puts one in a difficult position.
Jayrick is one nice potential that Passi National High School should recognize. No one should call it luck that he struck gold once. It is a milestone in his life and ought to be appreciated.
He may not have won major prizes now but I am sure that he can tell you he won much more than that.
There is no such thing as loosing. If you don’t win, you learn.
I have been a life long learner (yeah, you can say looser). But at least, I won much more than the winner did.
I may not have won much back in highschool and later on in life. But I won this place in time and space that allowed me to meet the likes of Jayrick.
To close this post, here is a quote from a movies I watched recently. (It is not a new movie but I tend to watch movies released years later).
Remember, life may lead you where you least expect, but have faith that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
-from the movie “ Snow Buddies”
The Walking Piece of Pretensions
I am a snob.
For almost twenty years, I thought that I had the most kindly and understanding disposition that all teachers should have.
I have been silently fuming at the way teacher ridicule and put down their students… how they especially blame the students for some fault that they tend to mirror upon them… how they would dress the students with inadequacies that their own has initially triggered…
However, I am feeling burdened with the same kind of feelings today.
Why? I am bound by contract to teach a bunch of out of school youths and adults at some not really obscure barangay here in our place.
I find the youths okay but the male adults are tiresome. I hate their guts and attitude and that is severely depressing and distressing.
I love teaching but I guess I am not cut out to teach people who have given up on education along time ago and tend to question all the value I bestow upon certain things that are beyond their comprehension.
I love my students at the school where I am teaching.
I could not say the same thing for my adult literacy classes though. And that reinforces the ugly thought that I am an intellectual elitist: a mental snob.
One time, I taught them about geography and the different continents. I felt that this geographical knowledge would give them a world view and thus trigger an urge in them to want to learn more by themselves.
Unfortunately, one male adult asked me if this is in the national test that they need to take to pass high school or elementary. One previous test taker who did not pass said that it is not there.
I wanted to scream in frustration. I mean, who has a professional license to teach here?
Teaching children and teens is fun and comfortable. They do not challenge a teachers capacity and teaching style especially if they can sense tha it is for them.
Trying to teach a bunch of adults who are older than myself is taxing and demanding. I am not up for the job, I am afraid.
Heck, I am only 23. What do I know of marital problems and things like that?
I have always lived in a mental bubble that is surrounded by education, books, studies and great things while they lived in the real world where not everyone can have his or her own ivory tower.
Theirs has been a life of drudgery and my single aim was to give them a view of what life is there other than the one they grew up in.
But, all they wanted from me are answers to the test. Specific, practical answers to multiple choice questions.
When I asked my teacher if she would want to take over my literacy classes when she graduates in college, she said.
Indi takon. Agwantahon ko na lang ang lower sections sa high school. (No way, I would rather bear teaching the lower section students in high school).
And what is in there for me? Why am I teaching or doing something that I do not want to do in the first place.
The usual answer: My mother made me do it.
She is the coordinator of our school when it comes to these things and she has been doing the thing for several years. I do not know how she did it but she thrives on working with adults like herself and giving them a new chance at life.
Hwaaaat?
Yeah. New chance at life. Whatever. They did not make use of the chance they were given in the first place. Not everyone is given a second chance…
What do I really want to do with my Saturdays? First, I want to wake up late. Then, I want to drink a cup of coffee and power up my laptop (I just did, hehe and its 8:17 in the morning. It is a Saturday too, and it means I am late.) and tinker with some personal essays and pieces I am working on.
After that, I want to read and study and then, in the afternoon, I would go off to an internet café and surf the net.
I will probable chat with some friends.
On better days, I would probably want to go to Iloilo just to window shop, and relax.
Because this summer, I intend to enroll in one of the University’s graduate school here to begin my much awaited masters degree.
Anyway, life would be much better if I gave up these kinds of classes. It is just so not me. I mean, I am pretty impatient with people who do not value education, culture, the arts and other intellectual pursuits.
Well, my usual high school students do not value them as much but neither do they challenge my authority in the classroom.
And neither of them holds these kinds of things against me.
It is so lame. I mean, I am glad the government has provided a new opportunity for people like these. I just wish the people themselves would realize the chance they are given.
For almost twenty years, I thought that I had the most kindly and understanding disposition that all teachers should have.
I have been silently fuming at the way teacher ridicule and put down their students… how they especially blame the students for some fault that they tend to mirror upon them… how they would dress the students with inadequacies that their own has initially triggered…
However, I am feeling burdened with the same kind of feelings today.
Why? I am bound by contract to teach a bunch of out of school youths and adults at some not really obscure barangay here in our place.
I find the youths okay but the male adults are tiresome. I hate their guts and attitude and that is severely depressing and distressing.
I love teaching but I guess I am not cut out to teach people who have given up on education along time ago and tend to question all the value I bestow upon certain things that are beyond their comprehension.
I love my students at the school where I am teaching.
I could not say the same thing for my adult literacy classes though. And that reinforces the ugly thought that I am an intellectual elitist: a mental snob.
One time, I taught them about geography and the different continents. I felt that this geographical knowledge would give them a world view and thus trigger an urge in them to want to learn more by themselves.
Unfortunately, one male adult asked me if this is in the national test that they need to take to pass high school or elementary. One previous test taker who did not pass said that it is not there.
I wanted to scream in frustration. I mean, who has a professional license to teach here?
Teaching children and teens is fun and comfortable. They do not challenge a teachers capacity and teaching style especially if they can sense tha it is for them.
Trying to teach a bunch of adults who are older than myself is taxing and demanding. I am not up for the job, I am afraid.
Heck, I am only 23. What do I know of marital problems and things like that?
I have always lived in a mental bubble that is surrounded by education, books, studies and great things while they lived in the real world where not everyone can have his or her own ivory tower.
Theirs has been a life of drudgery and my single aim was to give them a view of what life is there other than the one they grew up in.
But, all they wanted from me are answers to the test. Specific, practical answers to multiple choice questions.
When I asked my teacher if she would want to take over my literacy classes when she graduates in college, she said.
Indi takon. Agwantahon ko na lang ang lower sections sa high school. (No way, I would rather bear teaching the lower section students in high school).
And what is in there for me? Why am I teaching or doing something that I do not want to do in the first place.
The usual answer: My mother made me do it.
She is the coordinator of our school when it comes to these things and she has been doing the thing for several years. I do not know how she did it but she thrives on working with adults like herself and giving them a new chance at life.
Hwaaaat?
Yeah. New chance at life. Whatever. They did not make use of the chance they were given in the first place. Not everyone is given a second chance…
What do I really want to do with my Saturdays? First, I want to wake up late. Then, I want to drink a cup of coffee and power up my laptop (I just did, hehe and its 8:17 in the morning. It is a Saturday too, and it means I am late.) and tinker with some personal essays and pieces I am working on.
After that, I want to read and study and then, in the afternoon, I would go off to an internet café and surf the net.
I will probable chat with some friends.
On better days, I would probably want to go to Iloilo just to window shop, and relax.
Because this summer, I intend to enroll in one of the University’s graduate school here to begin my much awaited masters degree.
Anyway, life would be much better if I gave up these kinds of classes. It is just so not me. I mean, I am pretty impatient with people who do not value education, culture, the arts and other intellectual pursuits.
Well, my usual high school students do not value them as much but neither do they challenge my authority in the classroom.
And neither of them holds these kinds of things against me.
It is so lame. I mean, I am glad the government has provided a new opportunity for people like these. I just wish the people themselves would realize the chance they are given.
Friday, January 23, 2009
I Lost It
I lost my files! Sh*t.
The USB where I saved most of the files I'm using went haywire. What happened? I thought that data would proved to be invincible once it is saved on a USB.
I have encoded a lot of things there thus hoping that I could save it for posterity and then, this?
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
Oh, that is rather hysterical. I think I do need to buy a new USB now. TSk. Salary is not yet on the calendar. Now, I have to grovel to my mother.
The USB where I saved most of the files I'm using went haywire. What happened? I thought that data would proved to be invincible once it is saved on a USB.
I have encoded a lot of things there thus hoping that I could save it for posterity and then, this?
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
Oh, that is rather hysterical. I think I do need to buy a new USB now. TSk. Salary is not yet on the calendar. Now, I have to grovel to my mother.
So, They Found it
| I guess I am no longer anonymous in cyberspace. I really do not know what to say now that three of my favorite kids found my tresure trove of guilty secrets. Anyway, being a teacher feels great when you have students like these three. No, I am not saying this because I am caught red-handed at being a human (hey guys, please keep my secrets...errr, public secrets). To Katrina, go girl. Do you even know how special you are? The depth and readiness with which you take on life will lead you well. Keep smiling. And about the guy, he does not have to know, you know. Anyway, it is better to cry now than later (I feel as if I am delivering a lecture). To Jayrick, hi. I read your'e blog. You have been such a great person to talk with you know. I find you deeply unfathomable and yet fun to be with. To Rey, where is your blog? Is it not great to be with us here in cyberspace? I still believe you have a lot of things in store for you. Find them, okay. Guys, I am so happy I met all of you. I am never going to forget the year I had with you. And yes, the reason why I wanted to be with you is honestly a selfish one. You all make me happy. You give meaning to my life. I hope to see all of you succesful one day, ha. I have this secret fear that I might never marry you know. I already mourned about my prospective spinsterhood at fifteen. For me, you, who have become like students (and more) to me, are my one chance at motherhood. And yes, it feels great to have you. Do good, okay. God bless and good luck guys. |
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Ugly Poet's Collection
Here are my clumsy attempts at poetry. You can find more in my laptop. It’s on a folder labeled The Ugly Poet.
Mine
Green goo
Spewed out
Of her frothing mouth.
Her eyes glittered
Like black diamonds
in a pale face
whithered with pain
Her bone-like hands
Held out
A stem of thornless rose:
Its white petals
Pristine and clear in the gloom
Then, when I touched it
A drop of blood
Formed against the white
Falling out on my outstretched palm
Blood singed my skin
Burning muscle, sinew and bone
Leaving but the charred remains
Of empty human flesh
Mine.
This one is something that can only be understood by its mad writer.Me. Hehe. Ano say mo ‘Del? Inug discard gid?
11/22/08 7:48:49 PM
Music
I touched the keys
With gentle hands
Lovingly running my finger
Over the cold ivory surface
My fingers pounded the rhythm
Of my thumping blood
And hammered the banging tone
Of my wildly beating heart
The constricting of my veins
Was echoed through the notes
And…
The silent tears running down my cheeks
Fell upon pure-white keys
This one is very undisciplined and contains a lot of erroneous images which appeal to the wrong senses.
11/29/08 7:10:20 PM
Ours
(nalipatan ni title ya.So, gin himuan ko nalang, e).
Our music is playing again
Once more
Words drift through my thoughts
And my heart squeezed itself painfully in remembrance
I once shared this song with you
On a lonely bus ride
On our way home
I once listened to this song with you
And in my heart
I knew
Like me
A kindred heart was searching for its pair
Your heart was crying
Pounding painfully
Along with the thrumming beat of the song
And my heart heard you
And understood your heart
Without me knowing it
Kindred heart and souls
Sharing one song
On a bus ride home
And now, I wonder
Who owns that heart
Who cried that night?
Who owns that kindred heart
Which my heart understood
*ugly poem, inspired by All the Love in the Word and a Bus Ride
This one is really memorable because I had an adventure that day. I went to Iloilo right after I received my salary. I mean, I took the more than one hour bus trip to Iloilo at around 4:00 in the afternoon, I arrived in Iloilo Tagbak Terminal at 6:00. The jeepney ride from Tagbak to SM City took me about 30 minutes. So, I only had an hour to browse for my book binge at Booksale. I bought several paperbacks, caught the jeepney back to Tagbak and I was able to catch the last trip bus back home at around 8:00. I sat with a man, a sad and lonely man who played his music outloud. I liked the music. I cannot say the same for the other passengers though.
12/4/08 9:17:07 PM
Mine
Green goo
Spewed out
Of her frothing mouth.
Her eyes glittered
Like black diamonds
in a pale face
whithered with pain
Her bone-like hands
Held out
A stem of thornless rose:
Its white petals
Pristine and clear in the gloom
Then, when I touched it
A drop of blood
Formed against the white
Falling out on my outstretched palm
Blood singed my skin
Burning muscle, sinew and bone
Leaving but the charred remains
Of empty human flesh
Mine.
This one is something that can only be understood by its mad writer.Me. Hehe. Ano say mo ‘Del? Inug discard gid?
11/22/08 7:48:49 PM
Music
I touched the keys
With gentle hands
Lovingly running my finger
Over the cold ivory surface
My fingers pounded the rhythm
Of my thumping blood
And hammered the banging tone
Of my wildly beating heart
The constricting of my veins
Was echoed through the notes
And…
The silent tears running down my cheeks
Fell upon pure-white keys
This one is very undisciplined and contains a lot of erroneous images which appeal to the wrong senses.
11/29/08 7:10:20 PM
Ours
(nalipatan ni title ya.So, gin himuan ko nalang, e).
Our music is playing again
Once more
Words drift through my thoughts
And my heart squeezed itself painfully in remembrance
I once shared this song with you
On a lonely bus ride
On our way home
I once listened to this song with you
And in my heart
I knew
Like me
A kindred heart was searching for its pair
Your heart was crying
Pounding painfully
Along with the thrumming beat of the song
And my heart heard you
And understood your heart
Without me knowing it
Kindred heart and souls
Sharing one song
On a bus ride home
And now, I wonder
Who owns that heart
Who cried that night?
Who owns that kindred heart
Which my heart understood
*ugly poem, inspired by All the Love in the Word and a Bus Ride
This one is really memorable because I had an adventure that day. I went to Iloilo right after I received my salary. I mean, I took the more than one hour bus trip to Iloilo at around 4:00 in the afternoon, I arrived in Iloilo Tagbak Terminal at 6:00. The jeepney ride from Tagbak to SM City took me about 30 minutes. So, I only had an hour to browse for my book binge at Booksale. I bought several paperbacks, caught the jeepney back to Tagbak and I was able to catch the last trip bus back home at around 8:00. I sat with a man, a sad and lonely man who played his music outloud. I liked the music. I cannot say the same for the other passengers though.
12/4/08 9:17:07 PM
The Man I Thought I Wanted
Written on a night after I defragmented my hard disk. Hehe. As if anyone wants to know.And my brother is demanding my presence on the table (ubuson na kuno parte ko right now.
I made this list last year and I only had the guts to write about it two months later.
I made this one to protect myself from falling in love with a guy who could hurt me (in short: all guys).
It has become a sort of armor because I do not really believe that such a man exists. In fact, I would be really surprised if someone would tell me that this guy exists.
just look at all the specific qualifications I set:
THE MAN I WANT
ü He should be very intelligent
ü Knows a lot about history
ü Knowledgeable about current events and economy
ü Knows literature
ü Proficient with technological stuff and matters
ü Tall, pleasant looking (not necessarily handsome), big and bear like
ü Tasteful dresser (into thick sweaters and classical look)
ü Communicates efficiently
ü Loves music, theatre and the arts
ü A reader or if not, at least, well informed on a lot of things
ü A doctor, a college professor, a teacher, a lawyer, an engineer, an architect
ü He should be a visionary, a philosopher and he should love learning
ü He should play at least two instruments, preferable, A violin and a piano
ü He should be able to provide well for me and whatever family well have
ü He should be deeply religious
ü He should love me in a metaphysical sense and accept me for what I am and what I am capable of being with him
See what I mean? Does this character exist? If you know anyone like him, kindly call or text this number )(!($@$))@).
I did not add any revisions but back then, I really believed I wanted someone like him.
However, I think I have fallen in love. I mean, I really did this time. But it was to someone totally unexpected. Someone really nice but totally unsuitable for me because of certain differences that can never be breached.
I like the male a lot. And like all the others, this is getting nowhere. (I know that).
Before, I had Jose Rizal as the epitome of the man I wanted. He was so like the Filipino Renaissance man. I fell in love with his brain, his talents, his versatility, his brilliance, his genius. (Leos like me are tempted by things like that… great things… like the proverbial moth which is attracted to the flame).
I was passionate about Rizal when I was young.
Then, I rooted on Prince William. He is rich and powerful. I did not really realize that what I liked about him was his position, the social strata he grew up in, the glamour of his existence (it was only lately that I saw the accomplished youth eclipsed by the expectations of the title he holds).
Then, there was the University Student Council Chairperson in college who speaks even better than the University President and who graduated Magna Cum Laude at the end of his class.
After him, I automatically pounced on the ex-editor in chief of our college publication who ran for the College Student Council chairmanship and who was eventually employed by our Alma Mater.
After him came the great artist who whetted my appetite on strange music. He was accomplished in his craft, and it was fascinating when you watch him recreate life on paper.
When he graduated, I turned to books again and lost myself on the medieval heroes of Julie Garwoods historical romance novels and the alpha males of Jayne Ann Krentz contemporary romances.
This time though, I rooted on someone strange and odd, both beautiful on the outside and inside, perfect and nice and imperfect but … I can’t really say. He is both terrible and good…
The distance between us right now is similar to the distance that Emily had with Viktor. (Watch the Corpse Bride. I can totally empathize with Emily’s character).
Anyway, We do not suit each other and I know I would always be watching on the sidelines for him, clapping my hands in the appropriate moment, congratulating him when appropriate, giving advices when necessary, lending a helping hand when needed.
He is a very dear friend and finding about this feeling has put me in an uncomfortable situation. I feel as if I am taking advantage of the friendship that we share. He does not know anything about what I feel and I would prefer if it stays this way.
We do not spend that much time together for me to be so threatened. Thank God I have my work to keep my mind off this admiration which my sisters find absolutely funny.
When Katrina, a student asked me about love, I told her I do not believe it exists in real life. That is why I am hooked on romance novels (the pulp type).
Because of this friend, however, I found out that whatever list onemakes pales in significance to the real thing.
Now, here is the kind of man that I want:
The man I want is someone I can talk with for hours on end without us getting tired listening to each other talk. That is precious. It is a commodity that I usually share with some of my students especially those who are like me, not with people my age.
Except for my friend. He is rare. Special.Precious.
Yuck. What am I saying?
I made this list last year and I only had the guts to write about it two months later.
I made this one to protect myself from falling in love with a guy who could hurt me (in short: all guys).
It has become a sort of armor because I do not really believe that such a man exists. In fact, I would be really surprised if someone would tell me that this guy exists.
just look at all the specific qualifications I set:
THE MAN I WANT
ü He should be very intelligent
ü Knows a lot about history
ü Knowledgeable about current events and economy
ü Knows literature
ü Proficient with technological stuff and matters
ü Tall, pleasant looking (not necessarily handsome), big and bear like
ü Tasteful dresser (into thick sweaters and classical look)
ü Communicates efficiently
ü Loves music, theatre and the arts
ü A reader or if not, at least, well informed on a lot of things
ü A doctor, a college professor, a teacher, a lawyer, an engineer, an architect
ü He should be a visionary, a philosopher and he should love learning
ü He should play at least two instruments, preferable, A violin and a piano
ü He should be able to provide well for me and whatever family well have
ü He should be deeply religious
ü He should love me in a metaphysical sense and accept me for what I am and what I am capable of being with him
See what I mean? Does this character exist? If you know anyone like him, kindly call or text this number )(!($@$))@).
I did not add any revisions but back then, I really believed I wanted someone like him.
However, I think I have fallen in love. I mean, I really did this time. But it was to someone totally unexpected. Someone really nice but totally unsuitable for me because of certain differences that can never be breached.
I like the male a lot. And like all the others, this is getting nowhere. (I know that).
Before, I had Jose Rizal as the epitome of the man I wanted. He was so like the Filipino Renaissance man. I fell in love with his brain, his talents, his versatility, his brilliance, his genius. (Leos like me are tempted by things like that… great things… like the proverbial moth which is attracted to the flame).
I was passionate about Rizal when I was young.
Then, I rooted on Prince William. He is rich and powerful. I did not really realize that what I liked about him was his position, the social strata he grew up in, the glamour of his existence (it was only lately that I saw the accomplished youth eclipsed by the expectations of the title he holds).
Then, there was the University Student Council Chairperson in college who speaks even better than the University President and who graduated Magna Cum Laude at the end of his class.
After him, I automatically pounced on the ex-editor in chief of our college publication who ran for the College Student Council chairmanship and who was eventually employed by our Alma Mater.
After him came the great artist who whetted my appetite on strange music. He was accomplished in his craft, and it was fascinating when you watch him recreate life on paper.
When he graduated, I turned to books again and lost myself on the medieval heroes of Julie Garwoods historical romance novels and the alpha males of Jayne Ann Krentz contemporary romances.
This time though, I rooted on someone strange and odd, both beautiful on the outside and inside, perfect and nice and imperfect but … I can’t really say. He is both terrible and good…
The distance between us right now is similar to the distance that Emily had with Viktor. (Watch the Corpse Bride. I can totally empathize with Emily’s character).
Anyway, We do not suit each other and I know I would always be watching on the sidelines for him, clapping my hands in the appropriate moment, congratulating him when appropriate, giving advices when necessary, lending a helping hand when needed.
He is a very dear friend and finding about this feeling has put me in an uncomfortable situation. I feel as if I am taking advantage of the friendship that we share. He does not know anything about what I feel and I would prefer if it stays this way.
We do not spend that much time together for me to be so threatened. Thank God I have my work to keep my mind off this admiration which my sisters find absolutely funny.
When Katrina, a student asked me about love, I told her I do not believe it exists in real life. That is why I am hooked on romance novels (the pulp type).
Because of this friend, however, I found out that whatever list onemakes pales in significance to the real thing.
Now, here is the kind of man that I want:
The man I want is someone I can talk with for hours on end without us getting tired listening to each other talk. That is precious. It is a commodity that I usually share with some of my students especially those who are like me, not with people my age.
Except for my friend. He is rare. Special.Precious.
Yuck. What am I saying?
The Punk World
Is it really punk? Huh?
1:34 PM, written while preparing a set of Quiz Bee material for the coming English Festival.
Linkin Park really rocks.
I just discovered the wonder of this kind of teenage rock. I mean, I am past my teenage years and here I am in a public school office with my laptop speakers blaring out the mad anguish of a set of rock icons.
I like the lyrics, honest.
I guess you could say that I am just starting to appreciate why teenagers find a lot of things in common with rock stars. I am starting to discover that this particular exercise is a form of expression, rebellion and therapy all rolled in to one.
For someone who cannot speak out his thoughts frankly, it is good to have a someone else do that for you.
When my parents first separated two years ago, after a steady and comfortable twenty year arrangement of peaceful co-existence, we, the six-person product of that marriage, were rocked to our very core.
I was already twenty years old at that time and I had just graduated from college. I was jobless and I was quite eager to enjoy that state. In fact, I once hope of volunteering my services to far-flung island schools.
However, my parent’s marriage disintegrated. The process was painful to observe and the six of us were abit out of sorts.
I mean, this was not part of the deal. We had not expected anything like this?
In fact, the first thing that came to my mind is: this only happens in movies, or teleseryes. I cannot quite comprehend that I am actually living the life.
When I was young, I only knew songs which are wholesome and good since my parents were quite strict.
In fact, my musical encounters were limited to nursery and children’s songs, folk choir, the church choir and later on, religious music.
It was not until college that I was introduced to the other complications of popular music.
However, when Tatay left home, and Nanay went off to wherever she usually goes, our house rocked.
Not figuratively but literally.
I started buying what I used to term as black music. These wild songs would beautifully fill the whole house and I would lay on the cold concrete-tiled floor without sheets or pillows.
For a while, I would get lost in the beat and the rhythm and my heart would start beating really fast as the music rises up to its usual strange climactic movements.
And then, the tears would start to fall.
Sometimes, when all my siblings are off to school, I would shut all the windows in the house and would start playing rock music really loudly. Then, I would start screaming my head off until my throat feels raw.
It may seem mad now that the pain has numbed into a dull ache, but doing that felt awfully good and therapeutic back then.
During the first year, when the pain was quite throbbing, like a living thing feeding on my heart, I remember hating Christmas Songs. I hated them because it made me remember that past Christmas we spent as a family, a complete unit.
It hurts bad because it makes you realize that things would no longer be the same. All of us have evolved certain defense mechanisms against pain and disillusionment.
I have turned to writing, studies and my books. My younger sister turned to her art and her cell phone. The youngest turned to obsessive house-cleaning habits and her music (she regularly listens to killer bee and always keeps a record of the top thirty. She also keeps a guitar she does not know how to play). My brother turned to his sciences and odd speculations about the world. My ten year old brother turned to his hand crafts and has started hating everyone. The youngest turned to his annoying pranks.
Odd how man goes about with his survival.
Whatever we do now, we always have our rock music. Everytime Nanay picks on me and my eating and sleeping hobbies, I would turn on the volume for an old Linkin Park hit (Numb) or Simple Plan’s Welcome to my Life, or Evanescence Everybody’ Fool and that other favorite which entirely escapes me right now.
When I am alone, I usually play Fra Lippo Lippi’s music or Jim Brickman’s piano pieces, or Busted’s calming work friendly music (it helps me work real fast).
But, when I am with company I hate, I play unsoft music.
I hate them. Life’s hard anyway.
1:34 PM, written while preparing a set of Quiz Bee material for the coming English Festival.
Linkin Park really rocks.
I just discovered the wonder of this kind of teenage rock. I mean, I am past my teenage years and here I am in a public school office with my laptop speakers blaring out the mad anguish of a set of rock icons.
I like the lyrics, honest.
I guess you could say that I am just starting to appreciate why teenagers find a lot of things in common with rock stars. I am starting to discover that this particular exercise is a form of expression, rebellion and therapy all rolled in to one.
For someone who cannot speak out his thoughts frankly, it is good to have a someone else do that for you.
When my parents first separated two years ago, after a steady and comfortable twenty year arrangement of peaceful co-existence, we, the six-person product of that marriage, were rocked to our very core.
I was already twenty years old at that time and I had just graduated from college. I was jobless and I was quite eager to enjoy that state. In fact, I once hope of volunteering my services to far-flung island schools.
However, my parent’s marriage disintegrated. The process was painful to observe and the six of us were abit out of sorts.
I mean, this was not part of the deal. We had not expected anything like this?
In fact, the first thing that came to my mind is: this only happens in movies, or teleseryes. I cannot quite comprehend that I am actually living the life.
When I was young, I only knew songs which are wholesome and good since my parents were quite strict.
In fact, my musical encounters were limited to nursery and children’s songs, folk choir, the church choir and later on, religious music.
It was not until college that I was introduced to the other complications of popular music.
However, when Tatay left home, and Nanay went off to wherever she usually goes, our house rocked.
Not figuratively but literally.
I started buying what I used to term as black music. These wild songs would beautifully fill the whole house and I would lay on the cold concrete-tiled floor without sheets or pillows.
For a while, I would get lost in the beat and the rhythm and my heart would start beating really fast as the music rises up to its usual strange climactic movements.
And then, the tears would start to fall.
Sometimes, when all my siblings are off to school, I would shut all the windows in the house and would start playing rock music really loudly. Then, I would start screaming my head off until my throat feels raw.
It may seem mad now that the pain has numbed into a dull ache, but doing that felt awfully good and therapeutic back then.
During the first year, when the pain was quite throbbing, like a living thing feeding on my heart, I remember hating Christmas Songs. I hated them because it made me remember that past Christmas we spent as a family, a complete unit.
It hurts bad because it makes you realize that things would no longer be the same. All of us have evolved certain defense mechanisms against pain and disillusionment.
I have turned to writing, studies and my books. My younger sister turned to her art and her cell phone. The youngest turned to obsessive house-cleaning habits and her music (she regularly listens to killer bee and always keeps a record of the top thirty. She also keeps a guitar she does not know how to play). My brother turned to his sciences and odd speculations about the world. My ten year old brother turned to his hand crafts and has started hating everyone. The youngest turned to his annoying pranks.
Odd how man goes about with his survival.
Whatever we do now, we always have our rock music. Everytime Nanay picks on me and my eating and sleeping hobbies, I would turn on the volume for an old Linkin Park hit (Numb) or Simple Plan’s Welcome to my Life, or Evanescence Everybody’ Fool and that other favorite which entirely escapes me right now.
When I am alone, I usually play Fra Lippo Lippi’s music or Jim Brickman’s piano pieces, or Busted’s calming work friendly music (it helps me work real fast).
But, when I am with company I hate, I play unsoft music.
I hate them. Life’s hard anyway.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Corspe Bride
I am the corpse bride.
Well, I watched the flick a year or two ago (I already forgot it in its insignificance) but I can feel how it is to be a corpse bride or how that corpse bride felt that is.
At 24, I have never wanted to look beautiful. I have always taken my appearance for granted. It is so vain. I kept telling myself.
Until I met this guy who is the very epitome of the man I have been seeking.
And the sad thing is, I am the very epitome of the woman he is not seeking. (Sigh).
We are so into the same wavelength. He loves the same thing I love, hates the same things I do (unfortunately, that includes myself), and i just enjoy his company too much.
However, I am dead in this world and he is alive (I am a corpse bride remember) and he has some onther girl that he has been dating in a while. (Hope my students will not find this blog, that will surely destroy the image of the heardhearted teacher I am trying so hard to project.
Anyway, life separates the two of us and like the corpse bride I must give him up.
Secret: As a consolation, I am trying to write a story about a vampire who has fallen in love with an ugly germ (that is supposed to be me, pro di ko feel) and he has been controlling the girls encounter since she was born. It is a stupid tale but I am writing it anyway.
Never mind, I am blabbering. I need to research for a lecture I have to deliver on poetry writing this week and I am at my wits end.
This has been a busy week. We spent all of the weekend at Robinsons Place (was it Robinsons Mall or Robinsons Place or Plaza, basta, it is in Iloilo anyway). We had that contest inEnglish which was supposed to be the regional finals.
The certificates they gave us unfortunately were dated December 19-20. What the.....
Anyway, I really dont know what to say. Katrina asked for my blog address (or is it URL). I hope she won't find this. I mean, this blog shows how human I am: emotional and idiotic, crazy stupid, capable of loving... whatever.
There. That feels good. Letting go of all the crap I feel inside. And oh, just for posterity's sake, my contestant, Rey Anthony, placed third in the impromptu speaking contest.
The guys is just great. He does not know that yet but I am sure bigger things are in store for him. When he walked up the stage to get his award, I felt like a mother bursting with pride.
Stupid noh? I dont really know how it is to be a mother since I have never had any children. hmmmm.... What did I feel then? Self-pride? I did not do anything.
Well, I watched the flick a year or two ago (I already forgot it in its insignificance) but I can feel how it is to be a corpse bride or how that corpse bride felt that is.
At 24, I have never wanted to look beautiful. I have always taken my appearance for granted. It is so vain. I kept telling myself.
Until I met this guy who is the very epitome of the man I have been seeking.
And the sad thing is, I am the very epitome of the woman he is not seeking. (Sigh).
We are so into the same wavelength. He loves the same thing I love, hates the same things I do (unfortunately, that includes myself), and i just enjoy his company too much.
However, I am dead in this world and he is alive (I am a corpse bride remember) and he has some onther girl that he has been dating in a while. (Hope my students will not find this blog, that will surely destroy the image of the heardhearted teacher I am trying so hard to project.
Anyway, life separates the two of us and like the corpse bride I must give him up.
Secret: As a consolation, I am trying to write a story about a vampire who has fallen in love with an ugly germ (that is supposed to be me, pro di ko feel) and he has been controlling the girls encounter since she was born. It is a stupid tale but I am writing it anyway.
Never mind, I am blabbering. I need to research for a lecture I have to deliver on poetry writing this week and I am at my wits end.
This has been a busy week. We spent all of the weekend at Robinsons Place (was it Robinsons Mall or Robinsons Place or Plaza, basta, it is in Iloilo anyway). We had that contest inEnglish which was supposed to be the regional finals.
The certificates they gave us unfortunately were dated December 19-20. What the.....
Anyway, I really dont know what to say. Katrina asked for my blog address (or is it URL). I hope she won't find this. I mean, this blog shows how human I am: emotional and idiotic, crazy stupid, capable of loving... whatever.
There. That feels good. Letting go of all the crap I feel inside. And oh, just for posterity's sake, my contestant, Rey Anthony, placed third in the impromptu speaking contest.
The guys is just great. He does not know that yet but I am sure bigger things are in store for him. When he walked up the stage to get his award, I felt like a mother bursting with pride.
Stupid noh? I dont really know how it is to be a mother since I have never had any children. hmmmm.... What did I feel then? Self-pride? I did not do anything.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Another Page from my Diary
Written on a Monday, in a frame of mind that refuses to wake up from a lazy weekend and face youthful, empty-headed brains that needs to be filled with knowledge and wisdom.
January 12, 2009 listening to Jim Brickman’s music
4:28 AM
I woke up later than planned because of my regular black voodoo ritual….magic at its best, I tell you.
Anyway, this was the first time in several nights that I was not able to think about Prince William.
It is honestly difficult to go through this stage. I am in a state of blissful unawareness right now. It was rumored that William will propose to his long time girlfriend on her birthday (which was last Friday, January 9, 2009). When I read the news, the date was Jan 8 (in England, it was already Jan. 9, 5:00 pm here in the Philippines).
I really had no idea if he has proposed because our TV has been dead for ages. I am also afraid to find out if he, at last, did it. I know Kate’s parents were invited for a tea with Prince Charles and the Duchess of Rothesay.
He is already 27 years old and will turn 28 this June.
What a funk. If he ever married, I do not know how I would feel. I would feel… anyway, we’ll just cross the bridge when we get there.
What will happen to my feelings if he marries? Will I try to forget him?
No. That would not change a thing. In fact, I would just continue with the fad and sort of nurture my feelings from a distance.
Right now, William is my favorite person on earth. I enjoy knowing about him. He has given my life a sort of perspective, a sort of new way at looking at everything in this world.
Marriage is a part of his journey so I would enjoy scrutinizing every nuance of that aspect of his life.
Oh no. I am not an obsessed pervert. I am just someone who has come to terms with an emotional loophole.
In this life, Prince William has become my very own conception of a romantic hero. If I found his mother’s sad life fascinating, I find his life more so.
He is a male, unlike his mother’s female. Aside from that, he was born into power and position. He grew up in it.
Unlike his father, he seems to be a loyal man. He has been with one girl for several years now. He has no intimacy issues because he can be alone with his lover for long stretches of time.
But then, Kate might just be a comfortable blanket. A commodity that is known, thereby considered as safe and less emotionally taxing. I do not now really know.*(Insa haw? Bestfriends kami?)
But, I would enjoy finding out.
(Right now, I am listening to Olivia Newton John singing: My Valentine and I am touched I feel like crying. It sort of expresses what I feel right now).
Here’s the Lyrics:
If there were no words
No way to speak
I would still hear you
If there were no tears
No way to feel inside
I’d still feel for you
And even if the sun refused to shine
Even if romance run out of rhyme
You will still have my heart
Until the end of time
You’re all I need
My love, My Valentine
All of my life
I have been waiting for
All you give to me
You’ve opened my eyes
And shown me how to love unselfishly
I’ve dream of this a thousand times before
But in my dreams I couldn’t love u more
I would give you my heart
Until the end of time
You’re all I need
My Love, my Valentine
And even if the sun refused to shine
Even of romance run out of rhyme
You would still have my heart
Until the end of time
‘Coz all I need is you
My Valentine
You’re all I need
My Love, my Valentine
A person I know claimed that I am really heartless. I do not know if she is believable since she said that as a student being punished by a relentless teacher.
Anyway, my classmates would attest that I am the type of person who never took kindly to love. I am like a prickly cactus who never thought well of love and lovers (especially the young ones). I have seen enough to make me cynical about it.
But, deep inside, I know I am a hopeless romantic. I have sublimated real love with the ones I found in books and falling enamored to a more mythical Prince would logically follow.
Princes don’t exist. Toads do. But I have had enough with toads that I long to believe a Prince can exist. If you’re just too pessimistic, I guess, there’s no where else to go but up. Huh.
Anyway, since there is a Prince, and William happens to be a high profile figure, it would be good to study him. He would prove to be a very viable subject, anyway. (Oh, Heaven just quit justifying yourself all the time. Why don’t you stop this rational nonsense and start feeling at least).
I would study what makes him tick in complete detail. I would observe him thoroughly thru other people’s eyes.
And maybe, then, I would learn more about my own self. Because, the way I look at him would give me a clue about the way I look at the world and who I really am.
This would give me a logical explanation about why I would want something, make the choices I do. Since in him, I made a choice, I actually made a choice. I chose him over all the others.
(Now playing: Jim Brickman’s Love I Found in You)
January 12, 2009 listening to Jim Brickman’s music
4:28 AM
I woke up later than planned because of my regular black voodoo ritual….magic at its best, I tell you.
Anyway, this was the first time in several nights that I was not able to think about Prince William.
It is honestly difficult to go through this stage. I am in a state of blissful unawareness right now. It was rumored that William will propose to his long time girlfriend on her birthday (which was last Friday, January 9, 2009). When I read the news, the date was Jan 8 (in England, it was already Jan. 9, 5:00 pm here in the Philippines).
I really had no idea if he has proposed because our TV has been dead for ages. I am also afraid to find out if he, at last, did it. I know Kate’s parents were invited for a tea with Prince Charles and the Duchess of Rothesay.
He is already 27 years old and will turn 28 this June.
What a funk. If he ever married, I do not know how I would feel. I would feel… anyway, we’ll just cross the bridge when we get there.
What will happen to my feelings if he marries? Will I try to forget him?
No. That would not change a thing. In fact, I would just continue with the fad and sort of nurture my feelings from a distance.
Right now, William is my favorite person on earth. I enjoy knowing about him. He has given my life a sort of perspective, a sort of new way at looking at everything in this world.
Marriage is a part of his journey so I would enjoy scrutinizing every nuance of that aspect of his life.
Oh no. I am not an obsessed pervert. I am just someone who has come to terms with an emotional loophole.
In this life, Prince William has become my very own conception of a romantic hero. If I found his mother’s sad life fascinating, I find his life more so.
He is a male, unlike his mother’s female. Aside from that, he was born into power and position. He grew up in it.
Unlike his father, he seems to be a loyal man. He has been with one girl for several years now. He has no intimacy issues because he can be alone with his lover for long stretches of time.
But then, Kate might just be a comfortable blanket. A commodity that is known, thereby considered as safe and less emotionally taxing. I do not now really know.*(Insa haw? Bestfriends kami?)
But, I would enjoy finding out.
(Right now, I am listening to Olivia Newton John singing: My Valentine and I am touched I feel like crying. It sort of expresses what I feel right now).
Here’s the Lyrics:
If there were no words
No way to speak
I would still hear you
If there were no tears
No way to feel inside
I’d still feel for you
And even if the sun refused to shine
Even if romance run out of rhyme
You will still have my heart
Until the end of time
You’re all I need
My love, My Valentine
All of my life
I have been waiting for
All you give to me
You’ve opened my eyes
And shown me how to love unselfishly
I’ve dream of this a thousand times before
But in my dreams I couldn’t love u more
I would give you my heart
Until the end of time
You’re all I need
My Love, my Valentine
And even if the sun refused to shine
Even of romance run out of rhyme
You would still have my heart
Until the end of time
‘Coz all I need is you
My Valentine
You’re all I need
My Love, my Valentine
A person I know claimed that I am really heartless. I do not know if she is believable since she said that as a student being punished by a relentless teacher.
Anyway, my classmates would attest that I am the type of person who never took kindly to love. I am like a prickly cactus who never thought well of love and lovers (especially the young ones). I have seen enough to make me cynical about it.
But, deep inside, I know I am a hopeless romantic. I have sublimated real love with the ones I found in books and falling enamored to a more mythical Prince would logically follow.
Princes don’t exist. Toads do. But I have had enough with toads that I long to believe a Prince can exist. If you’re just too pessimistic, I guess, there’s no where else to go but up. Huh.
Anyway, since there is a Prince, and William happens to be a high profile figure, it would be good to study him. He would prove to be a very viable subject, anyway. (Oh, Heaven just quit justifying yourself all the time. Why don’t you stop this rational nonsense and start feeling at least).
I would study what makes him tick in complete detail. I would observe him thoroughly thru other people’s eyes.
And maybe, then, I would learn more about my own self. Because, the way I look at him would give me a clue about the way I look at the world and who I really am.
This would give me a logical explanation about why I would want something, make the choices I do. Since in him, I made a choice, I actually made a choice. I chose him over all the others.
(Now playing: Jim Brickman’s Love I Found in You)
A Page from My Diary
A Page from my diary. Written just after I woke up and had my first really hot and sugary coffee for the day.
January 11, 2009
6:58 AM
I am not exactly happy with myself since I spent most of my vacant hours crying my heart out over the rumored proposal of Prince William to his girlfriend.
Not, it is not exactly that. If I am honest, I am jealous over the intimacy he shares with Kate and the fact that William wants to spend all his break time from his duties with her.
He has indeed found the love I have been wishing him to find and that has made me sad. Because I am not the one sharing those intimate moments with him.
Talk about contradiction.
Anyway, I akm trying to busy myself with all the things that I have to do in school along with my illegal readings. My life here in Passi pales in significance in contrast to the kind of life I wish I have somewhere else.
Is that bad of me? I think it is. I am not happy with the kind of life God gave me and that makes me really guilty.
In fact, I was happier when I was a student in College. I spent my living daylights in a far more exotic place and I get to see different sights every day.
That made my day really more lovely.
Now, all I see are the same boring faces every single day and that sort of really ticks a person out.
I long for a different kind of life. A life of adventure, of new experiences, of a far more different world than the one that I have right now.
A weekend in my life:
Saturdays are usually black moments. I usually wake up at six and I had to work on my lesson plans for my literacy class in Quinagaringan.
I would try to live before 8:00 but I would usually managed to do that after eight. Ride a jeep to Quinagaringan Grande and teach a batch of subhumans until 11:00.
I would then catch a jeep back home, have a quick lunch and catch another jeep back to Quinagaringan, this time Pequeno. I would teach a Grade A batch of subhumans until 4 then go home afterward.
If I have more money, I would go to an internet café and research on some materials I regularly made a point of gathering then be home after six.
At night, I would watch odd animation videos until 9 pm or Nanay is off to her weekend tryst, until 1:00 Am.
I would also dabble with my self-study project and go to sleep with my pocketbooks.
Sundays
I usually wake up after six. Then, I would prepare a hot drink, power up my laptop and update my diary.
Breakfast is usually at eight. I always know that I have to catch up with my lesson plans and recordings but I tend to delay them at the last moment (a real Filipino thing).
I would spend most of the mornings puttering around doing nothing really. Then, after a hefty lunch cooked by a younger sister who is a century older than I am, I would take my Sunday afternoon nap. (I am really useless at home. I could not even claim that I wash my own clothes).
Then, I would wake up at around 4 pm and I would start puttering purposelessly around without doing anything until dinner time comes.
Then, I would eat dinner with my siblings, watch another odd animation flick and go off to bed only to wake up at 2 AM to cram for all the things I did not do.
Wahaha. The routine gets stale and old but I am so used to it .
By the middle of the week (sometimes even earlier), I would be fed up with the work overload and would start wishing for the weekends.
That is the reason why I want to go to the States. If it were a weekend and I lived in Washington, I would probably visit the Smithsonian Museums. I would probably jog every morning since it would be too cold to sweat out.
I would probably cook my own food since no sister can take over. I would wash my own clothes since I can bully no one to do it for me. I would probably spend my tme outdoors or in malls since I have no company to pick on at home.
I can probably go to a classical concert in the evenings since it would be available. And I would proably love my family since I would miss them intensely.
What a quandary. What a rut for a life.
January 11, 2009
6:58 AM
I am not exactly happy with myself since I spent most of my vacant hours crying my heart out over the rumored proposal of Prince William to his girlfriend.
Not, it is not exactly that. If I am honest, I am jealous over the intimacy he shares with Kate and the fact that William wants to spend all his break time from his duties with her.
He has indeed found the love I have been wishing him to find and that has made me sad. Because I am not the one sharing those intimate moments with him.
Talk about contradiction.
Anyway, I akm trying to busy myself with all the things that I have to do in school along with my illegal readings. My life here in Passi pales in significance in contrast to the kind of life I wish I have somewhere else.
Is that bad of me? I think it is. I am not happy with the kind of life God gave me and that makes me really guilty.
In fact, I was happier when I was a student in College. I spent my living daylights in a far more exotic place and I get to see different sights every day.
That made my day really more lovely.
Now, all I see are the same boring faces every single day and that sort of really ticks a person out.
I long for a different kind of life. A life of adventure, of new experiences, of a far more different world than the one that I have right now.
A weekend in my life:
Saturdays are usually black moments. I usually wake up at six and I had to work on my lesson plans for my literacy class in Quinagaringan.
I would try to live before 8:00 but I would usually managed to do that after eight. Ride a jeep to Quinagaringan Grande and teach a batch of subhumans until 11:00.
I would then catch a jeep back home, have a quick lunch and catch another jeep back to Quinagaringan, this time Pequeno. I would teach a Grade A batch of subhumans until 4 then go home afterward.
If I have more money, I would go to an internet café and research on some materials I regularly made a point of gathering then be home after six.
At night, I would watch odd animation videos until 9 pm or Nanay is off to her weekend tryst, until 1:00 Am.
I would also dabble with my self-study project and go to sleep with my pocketbooks.
Sundays
I usually wake up after six. Then, I would prepare a hot drink, power up my laptop and update my diary.
Breakfast is usually at eight. I always know that I have to catch up with my lesson plans and recordings but I tend to delay them at the last moment (a real Filipino thing).
I would spend most of the mornings puttering around doing nothing really. Then, after a hefty lunch cooked by a younger sister who is a century older than I am, I would take my Sunday afternoon nap. (I am really useless at home. I could not even claim that I wash my own clothes).
Then, I would wake up at around 4 pm and I would start puttering purposelessly around without doing anything until dinner time comes.
Then, I would eat dinner with my siblings, watch another odd animation flick and go off to bed only to wake up at 2 AM to cram for all the things I did not do.
Wahaha. The routine gets stale and old but I am so used to it .
By the middle of the week (sometimes even earlier), I would be fed up with the work overload and would start wishing for the weekends.
That is the reason why I want to go to the States. If it were a weekend and I lived in Washington, I would probably visit the Smithsonian Museums. I would probably jog every morning since it would be too cold to sweat out.
I would probably cook my own food since no sister can take over. I would wash my own clothes since I can bully no one to do it for me. I would probably spend my tme outdoors or in malls since I have no company to pick on at home.
I can probably go to a classical concert in the evenings since it would be available. And I would proably love my family since I would miss them intensely.
What a quandary. What a rut for a life.
Whose to Blame?
Whose to blame in the collapse or failure of a relationship?
My co-teacher once asked this question of me after she narrated her experience in a seminar of the same ilk.
Indeed, to whom can we blame the failure of a romantic relationship.
A romantic relationship is probably one of the most complicated bond a man can be involved in.
Ponder these: Two people of entirely different backgrounds meet on a familiar frame of existence one day in their life. They found out that they have some things in common and are probably thorn together as often enough as to make them believe that they could indeed, get along well with each other.
They share certain similarities which bind them tight but they also share certain differences which keeps them on their toes.
The fact that they live in different quarters can also create a strong pull or longing to be with the other 24 hours a day.
In the past, the usual response for the need to be together is to sign a piece of paper legalizing that need.
In the day of alternative lifestyles and making choices, a word is enough… and probable a partner who has an available space in his or her nest.
However, not all bond can last the test of time and familiarity. As one adage goes, Familiarity breeds contempt. Too much of something kills. And too much of the other person can kill a blooming passion or can at least exhaust its source.
I claim to be no expert in relationships. I have not tried it myself so who am I to say that it does not last and who am I to determine who is to blame.
However, this just makes for a real fancy piece of writing.
Aside from that, I have a decade plus experience when it comes to reel romance. I am a romance novel junkie (not the mainstream classic ones but the so-called pulp types).
Anyway, I have watched several real romances, adult or otherwise form and flounder right before my very eyes so, I belive I can make an adept guess as to how it really is, without developing unfair biases and hang ups and unhealthy perspectives.
And so, who is to blame?
If I were a passive female bound to an alpha male kind of guy, I would probably put all the blame on the guy. Why? A girl like me would just be willing to go along with whatever he wishes.
If my male knows how to take good care of me, everything is okay. The entire relationship balance rests on his shoulders and I expect him to do all the work.
Whatever my master wishes will be done is my favorite line. If he can continue with what we have, I am good with it. I am happy to do as he pleases, go along with all his wishes…blah..bllah.
If it fails, it is entirely his fault since I am willing to do as heplease.
However, if I were the alpha female type who can think for herself and want things done her way; I would say, the woman controls all the shots.
The man is simply willing to go along with my way of thinking. I just have to adjust myself, get to know him real well and make use of his psychological make up in making decisions for both our sakes.
Men are really simple creatures. You just have to know what buttons to push.
If a relationship fails, it is all my fault since it would mean that I do not know how my man thinks and I do not know enough to anticipate his needs.
(To be really, really honest, this is just what I have accepted as true and I could not really imagine any view.)
However, for the sake of literary partiality, let me give this balanced view.
To a fair minded person, the answer would be both of them.
It takes to tango. The dance of relationship also requires both partners cooperation.
The man should hold the waist and/or the woman’s hands. The woman should also hold on to the mans neck/or hands.
I do not dance so I do not really know how this woks. But, have you not noticed something really funny about the intimate dance:the one shared by lovers? The one that usually happens in a jam packed fiesta dance floor while David Pomeranz Born for You is being played in the background?
The man holds the waist of the woman with both his hands and the woman holds on to the man’s neck with both hands. It makes me think that the woman has the man in a stranglehold and is choking him to death (an odd thought).
Anyway, what I really man is they both move in a steady and smooth yet slow rhythm as they look at each others eyes as of they were the only persons in the dance floor.
No one tells which way to go, what to do, how to move. They just anticipate each other’s action and thus, equally respond.
I saw this in my grandparents marriage of almost 35 years before my Lolo passed away. My grandmother was really the vain, religious catholic type who is very conservative and my lolo is the debonair ladies-man type.
When I was not yet born, Lolo used to drink a lot of booze and Lola tried to solve the problem by buying the booze herself so that Lolo would no longer leave the house to drink.
However, he continued doing so. When he came one day, lola picked up one of the left over bottles stacked at home and started getting drunk herself. Imagine my Sunday- churchgoing - Roman Catholic grandmother guzzling alcohol like water….
That shocked my Lolo a lot. He had not expected his genteel little wife to actually drank like… you get the point. Starting that day, he minimized his alcohol intake.
Aside form being a really overzealous Catholic, my grandmother is also a bit the nag herself. She is the natural, sharp-eyed aristocrat at home.
The only one who knows how to diffuse her anger is my grandfather. In fact, when Lola is one of her really volcanic moods, my grandfather is the only person who would go near her.
Until now, Lola still mourns the death of her one and only lover. In fact, the only memories that can make her smile after so many years of hard living is the memory of my grandfather and everything he did for her.
They had a grand passion in a very simply way of life. Their children were not so very fortunate to inherit that gift.
The only two surviving daughters had disastrous marriages which ended up in illegal separation. Aside form that, two of their five sons are seafarers and are married to two equally fickle-minded, pretty little nurses who do not have any professions other than mother hood.
The younger of the two discovered his wife was being unfaithful. I am aware the older one need only to wait for a few more years since he married a wife who is more than a decade younger than she is.
Marriage nowadays has really become quite predictable. Let me share a few quotes that a friend from IM sent me:
MARRIAGE:
It's an agreement
wherein
a man loses his bachelor degree
and a woman gains her master
DIVORCE:
Future Tense
of Marriage
Happy loving. If you can….
My co-teacher once asked this question of me after she narrated her experience in a seminar of the same ilk.
Indeed, to whom can we blame the failure of a romantic relationship.
A romantic relationship is probably one of the most complicated bond a man can be involved in.
Ponder these: Two people of entirely different backgrounds meet on a familiar frame of existence one day in their life. They found out that they have some things in common and are probably thorn together as often enough as to make them believe that they could indeed, get along well with each other.
They share certain similarities which bind them tight but they also share certain differences which keeps them on their toes.
The fact that they live in different quarters can also create a strong pull or longing to be with the other 24 hours a day.
In the past, the usual response for the need to be together is to sign a piece of paper legalizing that need.
In the day of alternative lifestyles and making choices, a word is enough… and probable a partner who has an available space in his or her nest.
However, not all bond can last the test of time and familiarity. As one adage goes, Familiarity breeds contempt. Too much of something kills. And too much of the other person can kill a blooming passion or can at least exhaust its source.
I claim to be no expert in relationships. I have not tried it myself so who am I to say that it does not last and who am I to determine who is to blame.
However, this just makes for a real fancy piece of writing.
Aside from that, I have a decade plus experience when it comes to reel romance. I am a romance novel junkie (not the mainstream classic ones but the so-called pulp types).
Anyway, I have watched several real romances, adult or otherwise form and flounder right before my very eyes so, I belive I can make an adept guess as to how it really is, without developing unfair biases and hang ups and unhealthy perspectives.
And so, who is to blame?
If I were a passive female bound to an alpha male kind of guy, I would probably put all the blame on the guy. Why? A girl like me would just be willing to go along with whatever he wishes.
If my male knows how to take good care of me, everything is okay. The entire relationship balance rests on his shoulders and I expect him to do all the work.
Whatever my master wishes will be done is my favorite line. If he can continue with what we have, I am good with it. I am happy to do as he pleases, go along with all his wishes…blah..bllah.
If it fails, it is entirely his fault since I am willing to do as heplease.
However, if I were the alpha female type who can think for herself and want things done her way; I would say, the woman controls all the shots.
The man is simply willing to go along with my way of thinking. I just have to adjust myself, get to know him real well and make use of his psychological make up in making decisions for both our sakes.
Men are really simple creatures. You just have to know what buttons to push.
If a relationship fails, it is all my fault since it would mean that I do not know how my man thinks and I do not know enough to anticipate his needs.
(To be really, really honest, this is just what I have accepted as true and I could not really imagine any view.)
However, for the sake of literary partiality, let me give this balanced view.
To a fair minded person, the answer would be both of them.
It takes to tango. The dance of relationship also requires both partners cooperation.
The man should hold the waist and/or the woman’s hands. The woman should also hold on to the mans neck/or hands.
I do not dance so I do not really know how this woks. But, have you not noticed something really funny about the intimate dance:the one shared by lovers? The one that usually happens in a jam packed fiesta dance floor while David Pomeranz Born for You is being played in the background?
The man holds the waist of the woman with both his hands and the woman holds on to the man’s neck with both hands. It makes me think that the woman has the man in a stranglehold and is choking him to death (an odd thought).
Anyway, what I really man is they both move in a steady and smooth yet slow rhythm as they look at each others eyes as of they were the only persons in the dance floor.
No one tells which way to go, what to do, how to move. They just anticipate each other’s action and thus, equally respond.
I saw this in my grandparents marriage of almost 35 years before my Lolo passed away. My grandmother was really the vain, religious catholic type who is very conservative and my lolo is the debonair ladies-man type.
When I was not yet born, Lolo used to drink a lot of booze and Lola tried to solve the problem by buying the booze herself so that Lolo would no longer leave the house to drink.
However, he continued doing so. When he came one day, lola picked up one of the left over bottles stacked at home and started getting drunk herself. Imagine my Sunday- churchgoing - Roman Catholic grandmother guzzling alcohol like water….
That shocked my Lolo a lot. He had not expected his genteel little wife to actually drank like… you get the point. Starting that day, he minimized his alcohol intake.
Aside form being a really overzealous Catholic, my grandmother is also a bit the nag herself. She is the natural, sharp-eyed aristocrat at home.
The only one who knows how to diffuse her anger is my grandfather. In fact, when Lola is one of her really volcanic moods, my grandfather is the only person who would go near her.
Until now, Lola still mourns the death of her one and only lover. In fact, the only memories that can make her smile after so many years of hard living is the memory of my grandfather and everything he did for her.
They had a grand passion in a very simply way of life. Their children were not so very fortunate to inherit that gift.
The only two surviving daughters had disastrous marriages which ended up in illegal separation. Aside form that, two of their five sons are seafarers and are married to two equally fickle-minded, pretty little nurses who do not have any professions other than mother hood.
The younger of the two discovered his wife was being unfaithful. I am aware the older one need only to wait for a few more years since he married a wife who is more than a decade younger than she is.
Marriage nowadays has really become quite predictable. Let me share a few quotes that a friend from IM sent me:
MARRIAGE:
It's an agreement
wherein
a man loses his bachelor degree
and a woman gains her master
DIVORCE:
Future Tense
of Marriage
Happy loving. If you can….
Prince Tainted
Written on an afternoon after spocking a former crush.
I was surfing the net that day when I remembered a high school crush ( a sort of fling things since it only lasted for as long as I was choir member) I spotted again in one of the big malls in our province.
I decided to look for any on line tracks that he might have left. I searched for possible friendster accounts, youtube entries (since he is a choir instructor), hi5 membership, yahoogroupies, etc.
When I tried to spock him (try www.spock.com for more details), I was able to find several entries.
He has a blog in one famous blogger’s site and in that particular blog, he admitted that he is gay, and proud of it.
Whew!
Way back in high school, I did hear stories and tales as well as doubts about his sexual preferences but I never even considered them as true. Although, when an older member of the choir warned me that this tall, blond-haired (artificially so) singing Adonis (does that make him an Orpheus) is gay and has no interest in girls like me, I just laughed it all away.
I mean, he was so dashing back then. He was build in a lithely muscular way and he carried himself with such bravado and such a forceful personality that I had not counted on him being gay at all.
The fact that he has a hauntingly rich baritone that seems to seep inside your bones everytiume he sings is an added bonus. Plus, he plays the piano in a strangely disturbing manner (or was it just the complicated piece he was playing?) and he is a dutiful son and person.
I adored that Prince. He was so much like the Vampire Armand in a way. So strong, yet so laid back and easy going and in a way, so adorable. He had very beautiful eyes, a patrician nose that belies his CAstillan roots as well as a sense of humour that is self-deprecating in a way.
I adored the guy. For the rest of the summer of my third year, I walked on clouds, really smitten over such a sophisticated fellow.
I created a seriesful of illusions about him.
Then, when I graduated from high school, he left the choir and went to Manila to look for a job.
I was not able to hear much from him lately. Until last December 30, 2008.
HE has changed a lot. He has grown thinner, and he lost the fascinating sparkled he once effortlessly wielded against unsuspecting girls like me.
He looked older. There were tired lines on his face. He looked gaunt and strangely dry, as if the world has sucked off all his essence.
He used to be so alive-looking, so full of vibrancy even if he does not speak. He had the healthy sparkled of an unblemished life. One that is devoid of sin, full of the innocence of youth.
I remember thinking how adorable he was back then especially when he was sick for a week and had to come back for a rehearsal. Despite having not so fully recovered from that bout of flu, he still looked healthy and he had a becoming rosy flush on his really cute cheeks.
I was staring at him when he sneezed in an adorable way and he caught me looking at him. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, sparkling in deviltry. He was so adorable.
Now, I see a shell, a husk of the man he was once. I did not know what happened. He just appeared like a dry twig in the glaring and unflattering lights of the mall.
I lost a prince again.
I believe he probably started living the debauched life of an urban gay, one that is into parties and stuff like that. In that blog, he admitted being bad, he sensed an innate evil and he said that he is afraid of getting real close with anubody since he would only end up hurting that person or maybe, destroying that person.
I do not know if I used to see him with rose-colored glasses. But, in the full light of day, I found that the Prince has become a frog.
If only a kiss could turn him back into a Prince again and bring back the vibrant man who had an honest smile and a brilliant sparkle in his eyes.
I was surfing the net that day when I remembered a high school crush ( a sort of fling things since it only lasted for as long as I was choir member) I spotted again in one of the big malls in our province.
I decided to look for any on line tracks that he might have left. I searched for possible friendster accounts, youtube entries (since he is a choir instructor), hi5 membership, yahoogroupies, etc.
When I tried to spock him (try www.spock.com for more details), I was able to find several entries.
He has a blog in one famous blogger’s site and in that particular blog, he admitted that he is gay, and proud of it.
Whew!
Way back in high school, I did hear stories and tales as well as doubts about his sexual preferences but I never even considered them as true. Although, when an older member of the choir warned me that this tall, blond-haired (artificially so) singing Adonis (does that make him an Orpheus) is gay and has no interest in girls like me, I just laughed it all away.
I mean, he was so dashing back then. He was build in a lithely muscular way and he carried himself with such bravado and such a forceful personality that I had not counted on him being gay at all.
The fact that he has a hauntingly rich baritone that seems to seep inside your bones everytiume he sings is an added bonus. Plus, he plays the piano in a strangely disturbing manner (or was it just the complicated piece he was playing?) and he is a dutiful son and person.
I adored that Prince. He was so much like the Vampire Armand in a way. So strong, yet so laid back and easy going and in a way, so adorable. He had very beautiful eyes, a patrician nose that belies his CAstillan roots as well as a sense of humour that is self-deprecating in a way.
I adored the guy. For the rest of the summer of my third year, I walked on clouds, really smitten over such a sophisticated fellow.
I created a seriesful of illusions about him.
Then, when I graduated from high school, he left the choir and went to Manila to look for a job.
I was not able to hear much from him lately. Until last December 30, 2008.
HE has changed a lot. He has grown thinner, and he lost the fascinating sparkled he once effortlessly wielded against unsuspecting girls like me.
He looked older. There were tired lines on his face. He looked gaunt and strangely dry, as if the world has sucked off all his essence.
He used to be so alive-looking, so full of vibrancy even if he does not speak. He had the healthy sparkled of an unblemished life. One that is devoid of sin, full of the innocence of youth.
I remember thinking how adorable he was back then especially when he was sick for a week and had to come back for a rehearsal. Despite having not so fully recovered from that bout of flu, he still looked healthy and he had a becoming rosy flush on his really cute cheeks.
I was staring at him when he sneezed in an adorable way and he caught me looking at him. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, sparkling in deviltry. He was so adorable.
Now, I see a shell, a husk of the man he was once. I did not know what happened. He just appeared like a dry twig in the glaring and unflattering lights of the mall.
I lost a prince again.
I believe he probably started living the debauched life of an urban gay, one that is into parties and stuff like that. In that blog, he admitted being bad, he sensed an innate evil and he said that he is afraid of getting real close with anubody since he would only end up hurting that person or maybe, destroying that person.
I do not know if I used to see him with rose-colored glasses. But, in the full light of day, I found that the Prince has become a frog.
If only a kiss could turn him back into a Prince again and bring back the vibrant man who had an honest smile and a brilliant sparkle in his eyes.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Goodbye, Filipinas!
Goodbye, Filipinas!
My professor in Economics with TAR back in college was one of the most balanced women I have ever met.
Without even saying a word, you’d know she is very self-possessed and practical minded.
And I have come to admire her a lot.
One of the things that she has told us was to accept change wholeheartedly. She advised us to avoid setting fixations upon ourselves and to be flexible and to accept and even seek opportunities for change.
She told us that she has a lot of experience in teaching from elementary to high school to one private school and public school after another.
She told us however that this has helped her to grow in many ways than one.She took her odd assortment of assignments as opportunities for learning and she never regretted what she went through.
This particular instance made me wonder about my situation right now.
After 23 years, I still live with my mother and my siblings. A lot has happened in my life lately.
I have graduated from college with a Bachelors degree in Secondary Education. I have already taken and passed my licensure exam two year ago. I am now employed in a public high school in our home town where I am teaching five classes of thirteen year old freshmen students. I am also teaching two alternative learning classes under a functional literacy program.
I am developing a self-education program since I could not yet afford to enroll in a graduate school program.
But, I am not happy. I feel as if I am not really alive. As if I have stopped existing in a plane that I long to.
Or have I ever really existed after all?
It makes me wonder why I am not happy or satisfied, It is just to early for me in my career to actually feel this burned-out.
I feel as if I am missing out of something and I do not know what that something is.
Yes, I am a professional but I have yet to call myself an independent career woman since my mother holds my so called “man card” or shall I call it independent womans card.
This is worst than being in a relationship. Worst in fact than being married. Probably worst than being a prince, an actor or actress….
With everything that I do, I feel accountable to my mom. Like I have to report everything to her, ask permission from her first, try my best not to offend her…
I feel sort of bad about his. I long for my independence. I long to live in a house on my own with no siblings (I have six and all are under 20 years old) to stumble upon.
No, I don’t want them gone but I do want to have a sort of freedom. A life unhampered and untied by anybody’s demands.
I long for change. And the only change I can see is for me to work outside the Philippines, somewhere far from home. Somewhere so far where I can not just go home to mother and cry every time things go rough.
My professor in Economics with TAR back in college was one of the most balanced women I have ever met.
Without even saying a word, you’d know she is very self-possessed and practical minded.
And I have come to admire her a lot.
One of the things that she has told us was to accept change wholeheartedly. She advised us to avoid setting fixations upon ourselves and to be flexible and to accept and even seek opportunities for change.
She told us that she has a lot of experience in teaching from elementary to high school to one private school and public school after another.
She told us however that this has helped her to grow in many ways than one.She took her odd assortment of assignments as opportunities for learning and she never regretted what she went through.
This particular instance made me wonder about my situation right now.
After 23 years, I still live with my mother and my siblings. A lot has happened in my life lately.
I have graduated from college with a Bachelors degree in Secondary Education. I have already taken and passed my licensure exam two year ago. I am now employed in a public high school in our home town where I am teaching five classes of thirteen year old freshmen students. I am also teaching two alternative learning classes under a functional literacy program.
I am developing a self-education program since I could not yet afford to enroll in a graduate school program.
But, I am not happy. I feel as if I am not really alive. As if I have stopped existing in a plane that I long to.
Or have I ever really existed after all?
It makes me wonder why I am not happy or satisfied, It is just to early for me in my career to actually feel this burned-out.
I feel as if I am missing out of something and I do not know what that something is.
Yes, I am a professional but I have yet to call myself an independent career woman since my mother holds my so called “man card” or shall I call it independent womans card.
This is worst than being in a relationship. Worst in fact than being married. Probably worst than being a prince, an actor or actress….
With everything that I do, I feel accountable to my mom. Like I have to report everything to her, ask permission from her first, try my best not to offend her…
I feel sort of bad about his. I long for my independence. I long to live in a house on my own with no siblings (I have six and all are under 20 years old) to stumble upon.
No, I don’t want them gone but I do want to have a sort of freedom. A life unhampered and untied by anybody’s demands.
I long for change. And the only change I can see is for me to work outside the Philippines, somewhere far from home. Somewhere so far where I can not just go home to mother and cry every time things go rough.
Goodbye, Filipinas!
Written several days before the new year, while feeling really depressed and down:
My professor in Economics with TAR back in college was one of the most balanced women I have ever met.
Without even saying a word, you’d know she is very self-possessed and practical minded.
And I have come to admire her a lot.
One of the things that she has told us was to accept change wholeheartedly. She advised us to avoid setting fixations upon ourselves and to be flexible and to accept and even seek opportunities for change.
She told us that she has a lot of experience in teaching from elementary to high school to one private school and public school after another.
She told us however that this has helped her to grow in many ways than one.She took her odd assortment of assignments as opportunities for learning and she never regretted what she went through.
This particular instance made me wonder about my situation right now.
After 23 years, I still live with my mother and my siblings. A lot has happened in my life lately.
I have graduated from college with a Bachelors degree in Secondary Education. I have already taken and passed my licensure exam two year ago. I am now employed in a public high school in our home town where I am teaching five classes of thirteen year old freshmen students. I am also teaching two alternative learning classes under a functional literacy program.
I am developing a self-education program since I could not yet afford to enroll in a graduate school program.
But, I am not happy. I feel as if I am not really alive. As if I have stopped existing in a plane that I long to.
Or have I ever really existed after all?
It makes me wonder why I am not happy or satisfied, It is just to early for me in my career to actually feel this burned-out.
I feel as if I am missing out of something and I do not know what that something is.
Yes, I am a professional but I have yet to call myself an independent career woman since my mother holds my so called “man card” or shall I call it independent womans card.
This is worst than being in a relationship. Worst in fact than being married. Probably worst than being a prince, an actor or actress….
With everything that I do, I feel accountable to my mom. Like I have to report everything to her, ask permission from her first, try my best not to offend her…
I feel sort of bad about his. I long for my independence. I long to live in a house on my own with no siblings (I have six and all are under 20 years old) to stumble upon.
No, I don’t want them gone but I do want to have a sort of freedom. A life unhampered and untied by anybody’s demands.
I long for change. And the only change I can see is for me to work outside the Philippines, somewhere far from home. Somewhere so far where I can not just go home to mother and cry every time things go rough.
ten several days before the NEw Year while feeling really depressed and down.
My professor in Economics with TAR back in college was one of the most balanced women I have ever met.
Without even saying a word, you’d know she is very self-possessed and practical minded.
And I have come to admire her a lot.
One of the things that she has told us was to accept change wholeheartedly. She advised us to avoid setting fixations upon ourselves and to be flexible and to accept and even seek opportunities for change.
She told us that she has a lot of experience in teaching from elementary to high school to one private school and public school after another.
She told us however that this has helped her to grow in many ways than one.She took her odd assortment of assignments as opportunities for learning and she never regretted what she went through.
This particular instance made me wonder about my situation right now.
After 23 years, I still live with my mother and my siblings. A lot has happened in my life lately.
I have graduated from college with a Bachelors degree in Secondary Education. I have already taken and passed my licensure exam two year ago. I am now employed in a public high school in our home town where I am teaching five classes of thirteen year old freshmen students. I am also teaching two alternative learning classes under a functional literacy program.
I am developing a self-education program since I could not yet afford to enroll in a graduate school program.
But, I am not happy. I feel as if I am not really alive. As if I have stopped existing in a plane that I long to.
Or have I ever really existed after all?
It makes me wonder why I am not happy or satisfied, It is just to early for me in my career to actually feel this burned-out.
I feel as if I am missing out of something and I do not know what that something is.
Yes, I am a professional but I have yet to call myself an independent career woman since my mother holds my so called “man card” or shall I call it independent womans card.
This is worst than being in a relationship. Worst in fact than being married. Probably worst than being a prince, an actor or actress….
With everything that I do, I feel accountable to my mom. Like I have to report everything to her, ask permission from her first, try my best not to offend her…
I feel sort of bad about his. I long for my independence. I long to live in a house on my own with no siblings (I have six and all are under 20 years old) to stumble upon.
No, I don’t want them gone but I do want to have a sort of freedom. A life unhampered and untied by anybody’s demands.
I long for change. And the only change I can see is for me to work outside the Philippines, somewhere far from home. Somewhere so far where I can not just go home to mother and cry every time things go rough.
ten several days before the NEw Year while feeling really depressed and down.
from The Year 2008
I lifted these from the notations I made just after our own New Year's Day Celebration.
It is already 2:12 in the morning on the very first day of the New Year.
We have just finished eating our noche Buena and my mother and siblings are all asleep. The house is supposed to be quiet and there is a noticeable lull in the fireworks.
However, I’m here, right in front of my desk, taptapping on the keyboard. I couldn’t help pondering the past especially after an enlightening luncheon reunion with the previous co-staffers of our publication back in college.
Was the year 2008 okay for me?
So far, it has been kinder than the other years. I was able to land a teaching post at my old Alma Mater and I am being paid a monthly regular salary by the Local School Board.
You could say that I was able to grow up. In a manner of speaking.
I am more confident than I was in the past. I became capable of dealing with people and I have stopped deluding myself that everything is all about me.
I have come to accept my physical appearance and the limitations it brings. But, I also became aware that I can do something about it, which I am going to do this year.
I am still the same person who is quite resolved to succeed in her career and be able to enjoy life and the lessons it brings. But, I am no longer as averse to the idea of marriage and family as I was before.
I mean, I found out that having a family would be cool. Having a husband to share the burdens and joys of life and having a kid to pass on all those precious things I have learned would be nice. In the right time and place…and with the right man.
I made a lot of mistakes this year, mistakes that I have to pay for. Not only that, those mistakes already encompass all the other aspects of my person.
I also need to clean up my act regarding teaching. I must admit, I am one of those people with a chip on their shoulders. I carry a bagful of load made up of psychological and emotional problems that somehow clouds my capacity to judge fairly.
In the last few months, I have become an exacting person. One who serves according to how much one is paid.
I kept forgetting that I am a high school teacher, not a City Hall clerk or messenger.
I kept forgetting that the littlest action and reaction from me are drops of water in a vast ocean of materialism and cupidity.
I realized the evils of my ways when I got in touch with my previous buddies in college and our previous Publication adviser who is a tower of strength and a fountain of wisdom to us.
I realized that I am a teacher and I took oath in a public ceremony declaring my willingness to pass on the knowledge hoard by the intellectuals of the past who longed to preserve civilization.
As one of my fellow staffers put it: Whatever the environment is, whatever other people say or do, just make sure that your students will learn something from you.
I am a teacher, first and foremost. I did not choose this profession because of the money it will bring to me and my family. I originally chose teaching because I know it will give meaning, and a sense of direction to my life.
I am a teacher and my mission is to teach. That is the best lesson that I have learned this year.
It is already 2:12 in the morning on the very first day of the New Year.
We have just finished eating our noche Buena and my mother and siblings are all asleep. The house is supposed to be quiet and there is a noticeable lull in the fireworks.
However, I’m here, right in front of my desk, taptapping on the keyboard. I couldn’t help pondering the past especially after an enlightening luncheon reunion with the previous co-staffers of our publication back in college.
Was the year 2008 okay for me?
So far, it has been kinder than the other years. I was able to land a teaching post at my old Alma Mater and I am being paid a monthly regular salary by the Local School Board.
You could say that I was able to grow up. In a manner of speaking.
I am more confident than I was in the past. I became capable of dealing with people and I have stopped deluding myself that everything is all about me.
I have come to accept my physical appearance and the limitations it brings. But, I also became aware that I can do something about it, which I am going to do this year.
I am still the same person who is quite resolved to succeed in her career and be able to enjoy life and the lessons it brings. But, I am no longer as averse to the idea of marriage and family as I was before.
I mean, I found out that having a family would be cool. Having a husband to share the burdens and joys of life and having a kid to pass on all those precious things I have learned would be nice. In the right time and place…and with the right man.
I made a lot of mistakes this year, mistakes that I have to pay for. Not only that, those mistakes already encompass all the other aspects of my person.
I also need to clean up my act regarding teaching. I must admit, I am one of those people with a chip on their shoulders. I carry a bagful of load made up of psychological and emotional problems that somehow clouds my capacity to judge fairly.
In the last few months, I have become an exacting person. One who serves according to how much one is paid.
I kept forgetting that I am a high school teacher, not a City Hall clerk or messenger.
I kept forgetting that the littlest action and reaction from me are drops of water in a vast ocean of materialism and cupidity.
I realized the evils of my ways when I got in touch with my previous buddies in college and our previous Publication adviser who is a tower of strength and a fountain of wisdom to us.
I realized that I am a teacher and I took oath in a public ceremony declaring my willingness to pass on the knowledge hoard by the intellectuals of the past who longed to preserve civilization.
As one of my fellow staffers put it: Whatever the environment is, whatever other people say or do, just make sure that your students will learn something from you.
I am a teacher, first and foremost. I did not choose this profession because of the money it will bring to me and my family. I originally chose teaching because I know it will give meaning, and a sense of direction to my life.
I am a teacher and my mission is to teach. That is the best lesson that I have learned this year.
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