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)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
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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