tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45269108000541446062024-02-07T13:39:50.643-07:00El Stupendo FilesHow do you measure a life? How do you gauge if a life was indeed lived well? I have no answers... maybe you can offer one...ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-20383010318515943022015-02-14T23:02:00.002-07:002015-02-14T23:02:12.645-07:00Love<div class="MsoNormal">
How do you define love?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before
we got married, people told my soon to be wife that she shouldn’t expect
anything about public affection from me considering that I am a Highlander and
being one, I am predisposed to keep my feelings in check. I would probably not
hold her hand, much less kiss her in public or something in these lines. Being
a mountaineer, I am supposed to be stoic and expected to maintain a façade of
indifference. I was no lowlander with their overt external means of showing
love. She was told that I’d be the rock solid silent, brooding partner; always
there for her forever but in the way of public or private declarations of love,
I will be passive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We both
laughed at those words then.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh she
knew of course about the stereotypes of highland men. There is truth there. I
know. I am one. I lived most of my life in the culture. People might take
offense about this. It’s not a generalization. But there is some truth in here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But
this is not a piece about that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is
about love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met
my wife when I was about to give up on love. Cliché, perhaps but it’s the
truth. Frankly, I thought that my lot in life was to spend it alone. As a
traveler perhaps. Or a struggling writer. A vagabond… maybe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She
took me out from that path. Loved me fully in a way that gave me direction in
life. She saved me in so many ways.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I often
wonder what she saw in me. I was a fat, balding man (still am) that had no
direction. She is a pretty woman, former beauty queen, bright, sunny with the
world at her hands. Yet she chose me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I asked
her a few times. She says that love doesn’t choose… that the heart knows when
it meets the other one that completes it. That we are soulmates.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is
love?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We love
the outdoors. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She loves sports and I am not
really sporty. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She knows aesthetics and fashion. I
know nothing of fashion and she gave up trying to dress me a long time. She
just says that as long as I love her, I can wear all the sports jerseys and
baggy old shirts I want.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We love hiking, camping and being
one with nature. We don’t care much for social gatherings. We both prefer the
solitude and the intimacy of personal interactions. I see you, you see me. We
communicate… we make bonds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We butt heads on parenting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We love our kids.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We sulk, make amends and repeat the
same process all over again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I can’t say how much I love my
wife. She was there when I was lost, she is here now in one of the lowest
points in my life. She gives me the strength to face the trials that life has
cast my way. And she holds my hand, smiles and tells me that everything will be
ok.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
If that isn’t love, then I don’t
know what is…<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Happy Valentines…<o:p></o:p></div>
ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-31126290105885184002014-11-26T01:22:00.000-07:002014-11-26T01:22:07.340-07:00Back...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided to write today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How long has it been since I last wrote?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t have the exact number of days. Maybe two years?
Closer probably to three years… It doesn’t matter, I guess… but the fact
remains that I have stopped writing for quite some time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why did I stop?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I once wrote because I was alone. Solitude brought
loneliness and loneliness prodded the mind into places dark and forlorn. The written
word kept me occupied, gave me a sense of self. Without it, I’d have succumbed
to other vices or worse other thoughts…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So writing for me, before was a welcome release, a creative
distraction if you wish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I found a place to belong. I found someone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someone who gave me a place. Loneliness was chased away and
replaced by love and family. I found my soulmate, had a son, had a daughter…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Writing didn’t have a place anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or rather, I did not need the solace of writing anymore…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My wife wanted me to write again, and I smile whenever she
asks. Sing, I said to her, and I will write. For she used to sing… beautifully,
I might add. But she stopped singing. For the same reason I stopped writing. So
we left it at that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But today, I am going to write again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is it for keeping the emptiness at bay?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the same reason I wrote before?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not those reasons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see, I had a session with someone today, someone who
told me that I am breaking apart piece by piece. Not that I would die; it is
not something as bad as that. Rather, that this mortal shell I inhabit is more
fragile than I expected. Some thoughts… dreams of the future, so taken for
granted by most people are getting further away from my reach….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realize now that more than ever, I mustn’t squander the
gifts that God has given me. There is a reason for everything under the sun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I might not be able to run with my son someday. Even now, I
can barely keep up with him. There might be a time I cannot throw my daughter
in the air and catch her. Even now, holding her tests my limits. I want
desperately to be able to do those. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I might… or maybe not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are things I might not be able to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But there are also things I can do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And one of those things I can do is write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so I write again…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-13724186816135268782012-08-27T20:52:00.002-06:002012-08-27T20:52:49.762-06:00Our Thanks...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">‘It’s done…’<u></u><u></u><u></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">It was spoken with a finality that was heavily punctuated by a sigh. I looked at her with a wry smile, empathizing with what she felt. Whoever said that weddings are a breeze should be dunked in hot oil and hung upside down in spider webbing. …and forced to listen to Justin Beiber songs…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">But I digress.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Our apartment is still a mess. Glass centerpieces, tulle rolled haphazardly across the floor, half open garbage bags filled with more tulle, crumpled paper decors and wedding knick knacks remain untouched, stark reminders of a day that seemed to pass by like a dream…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Except of course, the harsh realities of bills and other stuff tug in the periphery of that dream. Unreturned cook wares that needs returning. Calls that need to be answered, gifts still unopened, and thank you letters that remain unwritten…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">‘It’s done…’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Two words that sum it all up, I guess…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">But thanks need to be said. In the end it’s all that matters… it’s for the small and great kindnesses that were freely given.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Salamat!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Thank you!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Domo Arigatto!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Iyaman!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">To all the souls who labored thru the night and early morning to cook the food. Aunties, Manangs, Manongs and friends who gave us their time and sleep to make sure that there will be food served.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Salamat!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">To all the people who labored thru the night to set up the décor and wash the dishes, my thanks to all of you!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">To our main sponsors who labored through the sweltering heat to join us in our special days, our gratitude goes to you!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">To our secondary sponsors, grooms men, bridesmaids, ushers, flower girls, junior secondary sponsors who had to know at the exact moment of the wedding their roles, our heartfelt thanks for your understanding.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">For our photographers, videographers, friends, family and all of you who came to share our day, many thanks!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">For Pastora Marina for her patience; Lolo John for his sage wisdom and the other pastors who helped us thru the day… may God fill you with more wisdom!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">For auntie Nelly for opening her house to us; for Joan for all her labor; for Abby; Auntie Vivian and the kitchen staff; Vera and Mel for all their support and advices; and to all others whose names you know, Domo Arigatto! God Bless you all!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I cannot name all the people who made our day special. I will leave that to God! I pray that for all your help, He will bless you more!!!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Iyaman!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Iyaman!<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Maraming, maraming salamat po!</span></div>
ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-81953519683772775572012-08-10T22:28:00.001-06:002012-08-10T22:33:21.467-06:00Blues... (30 Posts....)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Hon, we are stuck in the highway. Something is wrong with the car…”<u></u><u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I stared at my cellphone screen for a long moment, wondering if I was reading it right. My heart was racing and each beat was like a loud cymbal that reverberated through my whole being.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I was rooted to the spot, unable to form anything coherent with my mind. Actually, there were two things in my mind… one that I needed to change my son’s clothes and find a way to reach her… and two to call someone for help.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">My mind raced as to who to call – a few names coming to mind but dismissed warily for apprehension that I might be disturbing them instead. I was raised to be independent, to rely on my strengths and to keep my troubles to myself.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Except of course, now, it is different…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The phone rang.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The sudden blare of the ringtone snapped me out of my stupor.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Hi, Hon” I answered nervously ‘<i>How are you?’ Are you ok?’ How are the kids?’ </i>My mind was literally bursting with questions. My instincts told me to run out and find them… common sense forbid it off course.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“We’re alright. I managed to park the van on the shoulder and *** is coming to pick us up. I want to call AMA but you have the card.”<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">My breath was erratic. Elation mixed with dread played on my mind. Elation, that they were ok but dread at all the implications of it.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I managed only monosyllables as answers.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“I called our appointments and cancelled some we cant get into because we don’t have a car… and hon, you have to call Auntie, it is important” she was composed.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In retrospect, I find it odd that she was the one who was calm and I was the one with frayed nerves. I couldn’t believe that she was thinking that coolly in the face of that situation.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“I will…” I answered, though my mind was still sorting itself out.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Ok, she is here. We’ll call the auto shop and have the car towed. Gotta go”<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">And the line went dead.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I stared at it for a long while, not knowing what to do now.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I found myself going to the sink, opening the tap and washing the dirty dishes there. I had to keep myself busy, I said to myself. If I just stood there doing nothing, the minutes would drag…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The doorbell rang. I snapped rigid at the sound, my mind conjuring scenarios so bad I quaked visibly.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I half walked – half tiptoed to it, only to see through the blinds that it was her.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">My relief was palpable. I embraced her as soon as she got through the door. Life flashes before your eyes, they say of these kinds of moments. The thought of losing someone special is hard… and everyone who has ever had a wife, a child or a parent knows this emotion.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Thank God, you’re safe honey.”<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">She smiled.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I wonder how another person would have acted in our shoes at this instant.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">For one, our wedding is just nine days away. Our money is running dry because of the car repairs we did and now that car is dead again. Our wedding food is on a strict budget. With our credit and savings almost gone, we have to make do with what we can, praying to God that He will see us through.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A lesser soul would’ve cracked under the pressure.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Add to that the clashes of personality that happen when people of different backgrounds meet.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Weddings are meant to be happy.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">As a couple and a family, we are… We find a reason to smile with each trouble that comes.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">But when the scope is widened and the rug is pulled from under us, it is human nature to find sadness there.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I wish for many things. I wish our car didn’t break down…. I wish I won the lottery and I wish that people would set aside their egos to let everyone enjoy the day without reservations…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">We are flawed human beings…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I’ve always known that…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">This world is flawed too…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">But in the smiles and the hugs we as a family share, I find that ray of Hope that God has promised…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The Devil might use a lot of weapons against our resolve, even well – meaning friends, but as long as we have that ray of hope that Jesus has promised, we will survive…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">…and survive we shall…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">God Bless and wherever you are, in whatever state of life you’re in, smile and know that Hope remains…</span></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-47477008028267358182012-08-08T10:21:00.001-06:002012-08-08T10:21:43.886-06:00Similarities... (30 Posts...)<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> In what ways are we similar?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> That’s a question that’s hard to answer.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We both are Christians. That, I think is the most important similarity that we share. For whatever things that may transpire down the road, our steadfast faith in God will be there to weather us through it all. Through our desire and trust in the Lord, we will always have the strength to overcome anything the life throws our way.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We carry the scars borne of our fathers – psychological wounds that have defined us and molded us to who we are today. We say that we have moved on, and maybe we have, but the truth remains… our father’s shadows haunt us.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We love to laugh… laugh together… laugh at each other’s expense… laugh for no reason… without reservations… I can make fun of her and her, me… with some feigned hurt jovially exchanged. We don’t have to keep ourselves in check whenever we chuckle at each other’s expense or express amusement in unbridled fashion. A sign of a healthy relationship which we hold proudly.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We love and appreciate beauty – but lest some of you imagine it to be the superficial kind, it’s not. We love bearing witness to the budding blossoms of her orchids by the window, the soft play of sunsets through the half open blinds… or the lazy gurgling of a crystal clear stream as we walk down well beaten paths to catch a glimpse of the river… She dabbles in craft with the kids and I play the role of a word smith… We love paintings and photographs… lovely, beautiful things that make the soul hum in rapture.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We are both the eldest kids. So I guess that says a lot of things. We understand each other better in some ways. We know how to adapt and to have tons of patience in our dealings. We know when to assert ourselves and when to back off. We come with the maturity of having contended with younger siblings, giving us a greater understanding of who we are… and more.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We also did live a good deal of our lives alone, she more than me. It made us more independent and stronger. We are not naïve souls at the mercy of the world. Through the years we forged through our lives alone, we gained precious insight on how to deal with what it throws our way… It has also made us loners – solitary souls that yearned for someone to save them – which made our finding each other all the more wonderful and utterly amazing…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We love books – not romance pocket books – but books. We devour books with reckless abandon. I thank God every day that we both share that passion. We might not share the same taste in books, but the shared love of literature and the openness to expand the mind is a marvelous thing to behold that will help forge the bonds of love that will get stronger with time.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We love movies (although she has this annoying habit of sleeping in my lap halfway through ninety percent of the movies we watch during movie nights). We laugh through bad comedies and romance flicks. And we both love Sci Fi and Fantasy films (although she doesn’t have the patience to watch speculative, noir and arthouse flicks – and I abhor the horror and slasher movies that she adores). We are cinephiles and except for that sleeping habit of hers (she says my lap is comfy, that’s why she sleeps), I couldn’t ask for more.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 10pt;"> We have more similarities: traits and tastes, convictions and principles that reintroduce us to each other as we share the days of our lives together. It continues to amaze me how each moment that we create reveals our souls to each other – strengthening the bond we both know – putting us deeper and deeper in love…</span></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-43749077470765270502012-08-08T10:11:00.000-06:002012-08-08T10:15:47.094-06:00Reminisces... (30 Posts...)<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial Narrow; font-size: small;"> “Ay wada ka assa?” (Are you there?) the voice of a neighbor/friend snaps me out of my daydreams of tranquil lakes and fishing boats. For a moment, I wondered if my mind just made it up in order to shake me up from my near slumber.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Jani, ay wada ka assa?” the question was repeated, louder this time banishing my hopes that it was just a figment of my imagination. I smiled inwardly. Part of me wanted to remain prone in the couch and I was tempted to keep quiet in the hopes that the person outside would assume I wasn’t in and leave.<u></u><u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe I was too good a person. LOL.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">I stood up and crossed to the door.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">My friend stood in front of our house, a lazy smile on his face.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ay wada ikak-am?” (Are you doing anything?) He asked, knowing the answer.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">I shrugged.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Enta ad Kin-iway.” (Let’s go to Kin-iway)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ta?” (What for?)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Basta.” (Generic term that is synonymous with a shrug)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">I wondered if I should just make a reason to stay in but decided otherwise. I was bored half off my wits. Maybe its better if I went for a walk. I asked him to wait and informed my mom of my intentions.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">We walked in relative silence for a few kilometers, small talk mostly and he gave no clue as to where we would be going.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">We reached the heart of Kin-iway and he turned towards the direction of Payeo.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Umayan ta no?” (Where are we going?”) I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Enta ad kenda auntie”<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ay ta?” (Why) My mind was now on overdrive, wondering why we were going there. There must be an event there, I surmised, but as to what, my mind came up blank.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Kasar kua” (It’s someones wedding) He answered matter of factly.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ahh” Now I know. People have been talking about a wedding for the month. I thought it was later – my cluelessness was a sign that I haven’t been going out lately.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">I laughed sheepishly, embarrassed at my ignorance.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“As wakgat enya?” (It’s tomorrow right?)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Wen” (Yeah)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">As we neared the place, more and more people joined us. I exchanged a few greetings and smiles. Small towns like ours, everybody knows everybody (and for strangers… eventually). We all shared the same destination.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">We found the place teeming with a group of people.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">It being the day before the wedding, people go to the brides house to help with everything. Some were there for the gossip (LOL) or to just be seen or to do ‘usyuso’ (put one’s nose in the pot, so to speak), or to help the family of the bride and groom prepare for the big day.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">We squeezed ourselves through a group of women and girls paring potatoes, cutting cabbages, Baguio beans and carrots.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ay kaanu kan tu pay abes ay makiasawa?” (When will get married too?) More than a few old ladies questioned as they saw me.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Darasem abes ta menpadawak si inam.” (You do it soon so that your mom will host a wedding too.)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ta waday rason si entako madagupan as baey u” (So that we will have a reason to visit your house)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sak ited nan essa ay baboy.” (I’ll give a pig)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Wada san talaken ko ay baka. (I have a cow)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">I just gave them a big grin as each of them said what they wanted.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">We finally reached the area where the men were busy butchering a few pigs.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sipay amam?” (Where’s your dad?)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> “Tagay.” (Drink)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> “Engka man saludsoden ken inan tudi nu into mangikabilan isnan naay natadtad.” (Go find his mother and ask where we are going to put the meat?)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> “Ene, gegen-am, Ay kega pay maid pigsamay.” (Hey, hold it properly, You have strength don’t you?)<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> On the side, a group of men have already set up the big cauldrons where a lot of meat cuts are already set to boil. Before there was just one kind of meat dish in weddings. <i>Inanger.</i> Which is large cuts of meat seasoned with only salt and then set to boil in a big pot. Nowadays, people are adding adobo – same meat cuts just with some soy sauce, potatoes and paminta. The veggies being cut by the women will be used to make dry pansit – which will be cooked later in the evening or early morning. Add rice, put them all in a paper plate, silopin (cellophane) or a banana trunk cross-section (I forget the local term) and you have the wedding food.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> It’s a community affair, mostly.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> Local relatives of the bride and groom come together to get the food prepared just in time for the wedding. It’s sort of like an unwritten tradition. Weddings rekindles bonds between people. Before, a distant relative from Tokok will probably come carrying sheaves of rice. The big pots and pans appear from storage and pigs literally come out of pigpens…<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> It’s often mostly taken for granted…<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> Only when you find yourself far from the reach of such networks do you suddenly realize how precious they are…<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> I’m getting married in ten days.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> Instead of pigs, I have cuts of beef in my freezer which my fiancé would bake the night before the wedding. Two Saladmaster machines will replace the tens of ladies who would chit chat their way through several baskets of potatoes and Baguio beans and hired food warmers and a Uhaul truck will replace the men milling around the cooking area. A few good souls have volunteered to cook some dishes and they are a God send. The rest, however, are ours to make.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> I sometimes kid my fiancé that we probably need to excuse ourselves from our own wedding to cook the food we need to serve and she says we have to stay up all night to cook everything. She does this in jest but we both know that there is a ring of truth to it…<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> And my thoughts go back to that time when I heard these words through the haze of my daydreaming mind.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> “Ay wada ka assa?”<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><span style="font-size: small;"> And wished that.</span></span></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-69748688259390768312012-08-06T10:55:00.001-06:002012-08-06T10:55:53.116-06:00Sacrifices... (30 Posts...)<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;">Love my blog title?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Or just curious?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Everything entails sacrifices. I mean, to cite a few examples… you are here because of the sacrifices of your mom. You have hope because of the sacrifice of the Lord. And you are where you’re at because the choices that led you here were all made with certain sacrifices.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> So it goes with weddings… or rather… marriage.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And love…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And don’t believe those people who say that there are no sacrifices. They are in a state of denial who are blinded by their own misconceptions and limitations. Or you can believe them… Which doesn’t really matter…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> People who go into serious relationships believing that they won’t change are crazy, selfish and egotistic bastards who are better left alone and held at arms length. They are inflexible creatures who don’t know that love means constant adaptation and change. And yes… sacrifices…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> So, you might ask: what are the sacrifices that I am doing as I transition from singlehood to being married.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> First off is time. And this is the hardest area to compromise. As independent souls so used to having our own schedule and our own weekends for so long, with our time to do with as we wish, transition to marriage is difficult. Our time now has to be apportioned (dreaded word – scheduled) with someone else. And the worst rescheduled part is the sleeping time. We can’t sleep in anymore!!!! (Or at least as often as we like to…)<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> There must be time for dinner (before, you just go to the fridge, pop something on the microwave and hunker down in front of your computer) and eat as you see fit. Now you have this thing called breakfast time, lunch time and dinner time (Aren’t those three interchangeable before? LOL). And then you have to make time for each other (movie time, cuddle time, etc)….<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> You get the picture.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Time sacrifices are the hardest. Taken for granted when we were singles, it is now a treasure that must be allocated. Huhu. LOL<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Second is choice.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And I mean that in general. When we were unattached, we can buy junk food with reckless abandon or any type of food that we fancy. Now, not so much. ‘We must have a full dinner!’ ‘Eat your vegetables!’ ‘Buy Lays, but only BBQ flavor!’ No more ice cream!’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And that is just the tip of the iceberg.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> ‘You look funny in those pants, change it!’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> ‘Don’t cut your hair, grow it longer!’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> ‘We will have chicken for dinner, if you don’t like it, cook your own!’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> ‘No, we will not watch America Got Talent… we are watching The Bachelorette!’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> ‘That’s not green, It’s supposed to be lime green!’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> …and other stuff.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> But in a good way (lest she kills me, hehe). Restrictions makes us grow more. (I am reminded of that adage ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’ and ‘It’s for your own good’ LOL)<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> But it is a part of it. As I’ve said sacrifices… It’s part and parcel of love and life…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Third is dreams. And I know that for most, its hard. But this is in no way negative. Our parents did it, whether we accept it or not and now that we embark on our own journey of marital bliss, we also do it, whether we accept or not.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> I don’t dream no more of life on the road, with a cat and an RV and a camera and a laptop to explore the world. That is unfair to my family if I still harbor that. Maybe a little escape during the weekend or a vacation years from now… but not as a lifestyle.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And I have to let go of having that house in the middle of the wilderness with a small garden and a laboratory cum workshop in the basement. My dream house now is a safe home in the suburbs with a green lawn in front and cozy rooms filled with love and laughter (and hopefully, a manageable mortgage).<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And I can’t be an geeky researcher engrossed in chemical formulas and process designs. Lets face it, scientists lead lonely eccentric lives not fit to be family men. I now dream of a job that will give me enough to provide for my family, which will give me weekends to spend with them, and stress free enough that I don’t bring work back with me at home. The Nobel prize for chemistry once remotely out of reach, is now… definitely out of reach, hehe.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And some others… but as you can see, when I say that you sacrifice your dreams, you just alter them or exchange them for others – some much more…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Like now… some of my dreams include these…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> I dream of being a dad my kids will be proud of everyday of their lives…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> I dream of being a husband and a lover that will be the pride of my wife to be….<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> I dream of being an everyday Joe who people at work would say ‘He’s good, nothing bad to say about him…’<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> I dream of a few days a year I can get the car and drive to the countryside with my fishing rod….<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> I dream of that hour when the kids are asleep and my wife will give me time off to pound the keyboard to attempt and finish that novel that might never get finished…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Dreams like those…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Fourth is the hardest (at least for me)… geeky hobbies…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> I can’t play PC games as often as I want to anymore… or watch Anime (we watch horror and bad comedy instead)… She laughs when I buy toys (collectible toys like the Troll she hates and the Lego I keep in my book case)… among others, hehe.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> There are probably more, I know… but these are the major ones, I think.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Do I look at the sacrifices I am making with regret?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> The answer is no.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> A little nostalgic perhaps…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> But it is all worth it… and much more…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> Because that’s how we become one…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"><br /> That’s how we love…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> And that’s why we say with confidence the words<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 10pt;"> ‘I do!’</span></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-36530149723336785522012-07-17T22:58:00.000-06:002012-07-17T22:58:02.854-06:00Knowing Her.... (30 Posts Before the I Dos)<br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> There
is this question that girls and women often ask when they start
getting serious in a relationship: ‘Is he the one?’ They probably
ask this more than ten times in their lives (I’d say around twenty
times on average, hehe).</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Men
ask it too. Except maybe on a lesser frequency, like maybe an average
of two or three times. Which does not imply that women have a
frivolous nature… far from it. It’s one of those ‘women are
from venus’ kind of things.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">In
the average lifetime of an average Joe, he meets lots of women. He
fantasizes about 30% of them (a fact of life), flirts with a few, and
gets serious with probably two or three of them. For the rest, it’s
probably infatuation or a phase (sorry to say but for men who enter
into lots of relationships in life, he is probably only seriously
considering a lifelong commitment in just two or three at the max).</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">That’s
why men will only say the words ‘I love you’ sparingly.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Because
they know instinctively that serious relationships are rare and is a
gem that is hard to come by…. Or rather that women who would evoke
long term commitments from a man are a dime a dozen.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">So
how do you know if the woman in front of you is the one?</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
guess that is the question that everyone is dying to ask. For women
asking, there are a lot of magazine articles in Cosmopolitan or other
similar publications that will tell you biased and more often
frivolous answers to the question. We men laugh when we read them, by
the way. Hehe</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">But
what about for men? How do we know?</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Well…
it’s no secret really.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">We
just know.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">It’s
as simple and as complicated as that. In the beginning of a
relationship, we are definitely attracted by a woman’s physical
charm (men who deny it are hypocrites). Let me clarify, however, that
when I say physical charm, it’s not the idealized beauty that
women’s magazines and women’s minds conjure. Yeah, we fantasize
about beautiful women but we men know that those kinds of ‘beauty’
are unrealistic and naïve aspirations at best. Physical charm is
different and it varies from woman to woman. Each woman has a unique
set of it. Some men get attracted, some are repulsed and others
merely pass it by.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Because
the beauty of a woman is unique to her. She has a charm that is
distinctively hers. It is not a universal measured statistic that can
be reduced to numbers. Which women don’t get really…</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> So
let’s just leave it at that.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> At
first you have an attraction. 90% of the time, physical (the number
could be higher). It is the door opener of sorts. Then you get to
meet (dates) and you have those conversations that build up on the
initial attraction. It’s the conversations that make or break it.
The more you get to know each other verbally and go through the
motions of the dating game, men get that moment in which a light bulb
goes off in their mind. Actually, it either goes on or shuts down.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Knowing
she’s the one is one of the ‘wow’ moments in life.
Indescribable and utterly mind boggling. It’s one of the few
moments of life that cannot be explained by logical explanations.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> It
just happens. And men know when it happens.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> And
for me?</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> It
happened in a couch as we just sat together waiting for the model she
was applying make-up on and who I was to photograph, finish her thing
in front of the mirror. In between awkward silences, sheepish smiles
and small talk, the ‘light bulb’ opened up.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> And
I just knew right then and there that there is no other woman I want
to spend the rest of my life with… other than the one right beside
me.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Women
will probably ask me to elaborate more (as she often does) how I
really came to know that she is the one.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Short
and truthful answer?</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> I
can’t.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> That’s
the truth. I can enumerate the things I like about her but are those
the reasons why I know?</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> No,
they just come with her. It’s the whole of her, what I like and
what I don’t like. Her mannerisms and her ticks and tocks. That and
much, much more…</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Because
this is the truth that all men know: we don’t fall for a woman
because of what she brings to the table. We don’t fall in love
because the woman is beautiful, humble, nice, naughty or lovable. We
fall in love because of her – the whole package of who she is and
if it is real, it doesn’t matter if she is deficient in some other
aspect.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Because
when we find the one as I did, we know… we just know that she is
the one…</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> And
out of all the odds, we found each other.</span></span></span><br />
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<br />ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-31101968264600370942012-07-12T22:33:00.004-06:002012-07-12T22:33:49.219-06:0030 Posts Before the I Do's (And More...) Initial Thoughts<br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I am
getting married in 37 days.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I know
that exact number because there is an app in my phone that keeps
track of it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">And men
aren’t supposed to keep track of these things. It’s one of the
‘stuff of life’ that just happens. I mean, ain’t it less of a
hassle if you just wake up one morning and you go through your normal
routine and your friend (who happens to be your best man) drops in,
shares a beer and then slyly reminds you that you are getting hitched
in an hour? And you give him a befuddled look and you realize ‘Yeah
right… I am getting married today’</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Except
for me, that’s not gonna happen. And my fiancée will probably have
my hide if ever I forgot about my own wedding, haha.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">So yeah,
I am getting married in approximately thirty seven days, gave or take
a few hours.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">So you
might be asking: How does it feel?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">How does
it feel?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Uhmm…</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">If you
are asking that on the context of my bank account, then it is the
most financially nerve-wracking event of my life so far. I mean, how
expensive is a ribbon, anyway? And why do we need stuff like colored
stones and plastic flowers? My fiancée is going to kill me.
Bottomline… weddings are expensive. And honestly, I cringe sometime
looking at those figures but in the long run as I see her artistic
ideas come into form, I grin sheepishly. Coz marriage comes just once
and it is best to give it your all to last your lifetime.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">If you
are asking on the context of my emotions… that’s something of a
conundrum for me. I love the sense of belongingness that marriage
signifies – the stability of emotions that it creates and the
feeling of ‘home’ that one feels. On the other hand, I can’t
just mope around in my room as I wish or pound the keyboard as I
desire. The ‘freedom’ of singlehood is tempered now by domestic
realities. One must learn how to hold anger, to appease,
and to hold back one’s own feelings to accommodate the other’s
sentiments. It’s a delicate balancing act best summed up
by this adage ‘In marriage, you don’t think primarily of yourself
anymore, you now have to adapt and realize that there are two of you
now and the things you do (and feel) must take this fact in absolute
consideration’. So yeah, my emotions are different now. How
different? That’s for another post, probably.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">If you
are talking about my state of being (or contentment), then the answer
is…. I’m uhmm… contented. Hahaha… People are probably smiling
right now. But I am definitely contented. It’s hard to explain it
really as words cannot really do it justice. Let’s put it this way:
some of us have that place we call ‘our place’, the place we go
to when we are in pain or simply in need of comforting. It can be
physical… a spot underneath a tree, a section of our room, a place
on the roof or something intangible that exists in the recesses of
our minds, a place we crawl into when the world turns on us. Remember
the feeling when you go into that place? That is the same….
Contentment, that is…</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">If you
are asking if I am under pressure or stressed, I will say ‘Yeah, I
feel a certain degree of stress.’ Who wouldn’t? More so probably
on the bride who troubles herself on the color of ribbons and other
stuff (like ‘our color is fuchsia, not pink or some other color’
when I chide her on it). My stress is on other stuff, though like
‘Who is gonna clean after we get married in the park?’ Or Do we
stay after the reception and clean everything up? Who’s gonna be in
charge of the slideshows and other technical stuff? I see the
underbelly of the marriage ceremony, the stuff that makes it tick. If
marriage is a clock, I worry about the gears. Which is funny, in a
way… maybe…</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I must
admit that I really don’t care much about the superficial wedding
stuff. I kid her on the décor and the other details (that have
nothing to do with food or the main stuff). I don’t care if the
seats have no covers or the tables are bare and unappealing. Coz
sometimes those stuff just gets in the way. The heart of marriage
lies when you look at each other and pledge your lives together. When
you see soul to soul and smile and dedicate yourselves together in
the eyes of God and other men. It is an intimate sacrament between
two lovers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Haha.
She will probably skin me alive. LOL. But weddings... for women, is
something that men shouldn't trifle with. It happens once in a
lifetime, for keeps... a special moment which no man must ruin. LOL.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I love
my fiancee.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">When
everything comes down to the core, this statement is the summation of
everything. She is the woman that completes me. </span></span>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">She is
the whole reason for this madness...</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">And I
won't have it any other way...</span></span></div>
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</div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-42653669746484171952012-07-09T22:19:00.001-06:002012-07-09T22:19:17.543-06:00The Months I Paused Writing...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYhuTPPNsqboKQ5HaT6PW6fRCUNb4bFvWBSKjmNHvjjChd7fRWs8Bh5XY9DEjMiXJgESeTTxTu8nR8IXuL9SqHPKtxK_1eyF20Cq6KixENe3QKupA8hOCQkXCe8gGqjYJiIhMyXlKvEI/s1600/writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYhuTPPNsqboKQ5HaT6PW6fRCUNb4bFvWBSKjmNHvjjChd7fRWs8Bh5XY9DEjMiXJgESeTTxTu8nR8IXuL9SqHPKtxK_1eyF20Cq6KixENe3QKupA8hOCQkXCe8gGqjYJiIhMyXlKvEI/s320/writing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">How many days has it been?<u></u><u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Months, probably….<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">End of November.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Was that the last time I wrote something in my blog?<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I think it is.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I thought that I would be lost without it. It’s been a part of my life for so long that a separation from it would have been unthinkable, or inconceivable… I thought I’d be sad or worse yet remorseful… but I felt neither.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">The feeling I got instead was something more of a mild relief – an assurance that writing is not the addiction that I can’t live without. The last few months without penning a word showed me that I can live beyond the imagined worlds that my thoughts offered. It helped me realize how multi – faceted life is and my place in it.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">The sense of being – the knowledge of oneself is the price of that brief interlude. I am no longer just a writer; or a poet; or a teacher (or a former-teacher). I am that and much more. I am a son, a brother, a friend and now too, a lover, a father and a husband to be.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">It is amusing when one realizes how many areas of life human like us fail to see in a lifetime. Life is a constant juggling act of various interests and roles. Only consummate individuals willing to sacrifice other aspects to be masters of a few emerge as different suffering both the boon and bane of their choices.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I love words.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I love how imaginary characters and places come to life with every click of keyboard…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I love the euphoria that is released when I have a story that unfolds in my mind and my hands fly over the keyboard to give it a concrete expression…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">And I love the rapt emotions that my pieces elicit from my readers…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">But my short vacation, if you will from writing, has made me realize a deeper truth. I wrote because of a deeper, much more basic reason – a reason which I probably knew but never really accepted.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I wrote because I was lonely.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I wrote because deep inside I was afraid to fade away and wilt unheard and unseen. Like all human souls that yearn for affection, I craved recognition and companionship…<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">And the reason I didn’t feel the withdrawal symptoms I feared when I decided to stop writing was short of amazing –<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">This is what I realized these last few months:<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">I am not alone anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/HUquTr3Tcv0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"><br /></span></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-21320437703121656252012-02-23T12:51:00.003-07:002012-02-23T12:52:19.939-07:00Day 17<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Day 17</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I slept for six hours again…</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My mind
belatedly realized as I took a glance at my cellphone. It is funny how I don’t
carry a watch anymore – I couldn’t even remember the last time I ever wore one.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Five months before maybe… the strap on my
Bench watch finally broke… and me being here in another country made the
replacing of it almost impossible. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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But that
realization was more of a stray thought, a fleeting moment of images that
flashed across my mind’s eye as I woke up. It was soon replaced by other images…</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Her dimples… her smile… Prince’s laughter…
the faint hint of her touch on my skin…</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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I smiled at
the thought. In fact, I can’t help but smile. Somebody seeing me now would
probably call me crazy, smiling at nothing and staring into the distance with a
stupid grin on my face. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Except, it
was not stupid… nor were my eyes staring at a distance.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I was
looking inwardly at the pictures of a life that still remains to be seen… a
life that is so full of promises… and beautiful possibilities…</div>
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<br /></div>
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I’ve never
felt so alive.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And that is
an understatement.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Six hours.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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It seems
normal now. Burning the phone lines until midnight just talking to each other.
Sleeping at 1 AM or 2 AM, smiling from ear to ear. </div>
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<br /></div>
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‘We are like
teenagers again’ She says.</div>
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<br /></div>
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‘I know’ I
answer back.</div>
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<br /></div>
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There was a
time, I would have been quite moody if I slept for less than seven hours, with
my mouth dry and tasting of bile, and my head throbbing silently with the
remnant of interrupted sleep… but those are for now, like a bad memory. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Six hours is
my normal now. And I wake up refreshed and fully wakened.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe that is what love does.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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And I grin
again.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And the
alarm sounds.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It is a
shrill cry that pierces the early morning silence. I grab for my phone and
fumble with the snooze button. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
6:50 AM.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time to get up.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And its
supercold. There is an uneven distribution of heat in the house we are renting.
The main floor gets too hot while the basement gets supercold. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I gingerly
sit at the side of the bed, my feet barely touching the cold floor. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A sigh.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Time to get
up.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The cold
hits me like a bat as my soles get full contact with the floor. Adrenaline pulses
and my body starts to warm up. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am awake.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I smile once
more and reach for my phone.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A few swipes
and I reach the texting area.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
‘Morning
sleepyhead.’ I text.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She’s
probably still sleeping, I know, that is why I resist the urge to push the dial
button. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I take my
morning shower, change clothes, bundle myself up for the winter chill waiting for
me. I take another glance at my phone. No answer yet… she’s still asleep… good,
I muse. I want her to have a good sleep.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is a sign of real love when you care
about the other person, people say. When you are selfish and just think about
yourself, it is not real love. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I smile at
that thought.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I pick up my
phone and dismiss the alarm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
‘Good
morning luv…’ I whisper.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I know
somewhere out there, she lies sleeping, her phone probably beside her, and she
is smiling…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-7868755617028232702012-02-23T11:48:00.001-07:002012-02-23T11:51:21.056-07:00Time... and Stuff...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z0kGAz6HYM8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
It feels like
a long time since I last wrote. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, I did
write a few pieces but not much since then. But it’s not because there is
nothing to write about but rather, there is no time to write about things – and
there are a lot of things that I want to write about.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Being in a
relationship makes you change your priorities. You have to… otherwise you’ll
lose sight of the most important things in your life – and that is the
relationship that you build with your life partner. I’d rather lose everything
than lose that human connection that completes my soul.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is cliché,
I know. How art takes a back seat when the artist is in love…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But love
will ultimately have to triumph.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Or one faces
the prospect of a failed relationship that may indeed provide the fuel to
perfect the art but in the end, even if the art is honed, provides for a sad
existence that cannot be denied.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I once
dreamt of living the vagabond lifestyle of an artist, with only a car, a sleeping
bag, camping gear, a laptop, a camera, my cat/dog and the road. I didn’t care
where I would end up as long as I fulfilled my souls yearning. Whether I get
published or whether my pieces would be found eaten by mold on a narrow stretch
of wilderness someday, unread and forgotten was irrelevant – I just wanted to
be free to explore and mope…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But in the
same breathe, I yearned more for the warmth of a home, of a woman who will fill
my soul with joy and love (and maybe nagging, LOL), and children who will fill
my heart with their laughter. I dreamt of that little house in suburbia
complete with that meticulously mowed lawn in springtime and summer with the kitchen
facing the east….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
God gives me
the second one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And everyday,
I thank Him for the gift. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The former
would have granted me the solitude that would have created opuses (probably)
and the latter provides me with the sense of serenity and fulfillment that
mellows down my need to write. I choose the latter over the former any day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Time is
gold. I know that now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
There are
many things I really want to accomplish. A realignment of my bucket list for
one to accommodate new dreams…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And fear, a
new kind of fear comes knocking…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Fear, that I
don’t have time to accomplish these dreams…. Fear of failing…mostly… finances
and stuff…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
There was
once a time when we thought we had all the time in the world. Remember? Well,
time catches up and when we face it, suddenly we realize a lot of things… which
we wouldn’t have seen otherwise.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I’m 31 for
one. In nine years, I’ll be forty. That’s middle age as most of us see it. That
is the time when the body starts to go downhill – the bones start aching, the
muscles starts to sag, and the will to wake up to cold mornings start to sap
our strength. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is also
the time when we say goodbye to the fiery will of youth and adulthood, when age
and frailty makes us begrudgingly accept the limitations that life gives… a
time of surrender, if you will… time to resist the flow and time to go where
the tides of life takes us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I want a
career. I want a stable job that will give me enough for a mortgage, food,
utilities and a few bucks for those trips taken outside to hiking trails, Banff
and Johnston Canyon (and maybe the occasional camping trip to BC). I want a
career that will free give me time to spend with my family…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Time to play
monopoly or scrabble on game night; time to watch a movie on Movie Night; time
to take my kids to school and to wait for them when dismissal bell rings; time
to spend with my wife to dance on Fridays and that once a month date with just
the two of us; time to tinker on the garage during weekends; and maybe time to
pound the keyboard as I do now…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don’t want
second jobs that will eat that time away, of having to contend with no weekends
because I need to work… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
These
destroy family: lack of time to spend for those who truly matter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have no
desire to be rich, to have that second house or that cabin… those are luxuries
that are maybe gifts if and when they might be possible. I just want to have
enough time to spend with the people who matter and that is my family.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is normal,
I think for people to be afraid.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is part
of life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My fiancé says:
God will provide… and there is no need to worry…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
‘I know’ I
answer… but still… there is that moment when you cant help yourself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is one of
the things that make us painfully human.</div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-22492555274352204372012-01-08T23:31:00.001-07:002012-01-08T23:31:49.589-07:00New Chapters<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Where have
you been?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
His voice
echoed in the hollowness of the train tunnels. It was a rather straightforward
question, I suppose, considering that I haven’t been back here for more than a
month now. It didn’t even occur to me that this place existed until a glimpse
at an idle laptop and a blog that hasn’t had any updates reminded me of where I
was.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I started to
grin – </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is not right, I suppose, grinning at this
point. After all, this is a goodbye of sorts…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The grin
faded into a sad smile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nothing is
ever joyful when one says goodbye.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He emerged
from the shadows. I stopped in my tracks. Even with the gray light from ancient
fluorescents, his wan and sagging demeanor was immediately apparent. He looked
old… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dying… </i>the image of a dying man…
comes to mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My smile was
frozen in my lips.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He
straightened his frame, the light slowly illuminating his face. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He was
smiling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…and crying…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In heavy
contrast to his weak form, he had the most radiant face ever, the joy
unmistakable. I felt a heaviness in my heart as I realized why.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You are
finally free.” He said, the tears flowing. I’ve never seen him cry before and
for a long moment, I stood entranced, unsure of how I should act.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stupidly
nodded.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He grinned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Who would
have thought, eh?” he laughed. He had a good laugh, first time for me to hear
him laugh too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You have
the Canadian eh.” I ventured for lack of a better response. The truth is, my
mind was racing. For too long, he has been a part of me – a fixture that was as
definite as the broken ring I once wore. How do I say goodbye? How do I leave a
part of me?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He looked at
me with a smile reading the confusion in my face. He laughed again, a clear
sound that chased away the reservations that held me in a bind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I felt the
beginning of a smile. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How could I… </i>I thought… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">of course, he knows… </i>We are, after all,
kindred souls, entities bound by common threads.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She is a
wonderful woman.” He grinned. A grin full of pride, like that of a father to
his son when his words are validated.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I nodded, my
grin growing larger.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“And…?” He
asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I looked at
him, not understanding at first and then it slowly dawned on me… that ‘and?’
thing…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My tongue
was twisted. My mind raced once more. Memories of other dreams, images once so
clear now muddled by reality came rushing back. Hopes and aspirations once so
vivid – now no more than memories of a life chapter that has closed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Curve
balls…” was the only thing I could mutter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He burst out
laughing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I reddened
in embarrassment. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Baseball
huh?” he asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He looked at
me for a bit longer which made me uneasy. I knew of course, the thoughts behind
that prolonged stare. He was probing my thoughts, looking for that remnant that
might have remained. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In so many
ways, I might have done the same, should the roles have been reversed. Life
however, is always unpredictable, its ways meandering at best – full of
surprises around every corner. Sometimes I wonder if Fate or God’s hand is at
play in the game that is called Life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sometimes,
it is best to just let life have its way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Do you love
her?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“More” I
answered. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She is my everything… </i>I
wanted to add.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He smiled. I
could see the relief in his eyes. Like a heavy load was taken off his
shoulders. The once perpetual dark shadow that cloaked him before was gone,
replaced by reserved exultation. But there was a weakness in him. I felt a pang
of sadness seeing him thus…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The poet:
Samarkand is… for lack of a better word… fading.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
With the
loneliness and the doubts that once filled my days, he was slipping away. The
angst driven, sad and tragic alter-ego that kept me company for so long is
dying. There was sadness at seeing him waste away but with it came a sense of
relief too, in a sad way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He reached
for something behind him and brought out a pair of glasses and a bottle. He
laid them down in one of the old waiting seats and gently poured a generous
amount in each. He took one and motioned for me to get the other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was an
act that signified an end, I suppose.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I took one
of the glasses, the aroma of the liquor wafting to my nose.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vodka…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To a
closing chapter…” He raised his glass.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To a new
beginning…” I answered</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We took a
sip. He gagged as expected. Like me, he hated the taste of alcohol. My mind was
somewhere in the future: my future self just returned from work and stopped in
the curb beside a modest house. Ahead in the summer lawn, two children are
playing with the sprinklers, my two youngest frolicking in the warm rays of the
late Canadian sun. Beyond them, in the patio, my eldest son, now a teen kept a
watchful eye on them. He probably wished he was somewhere else with his friends
as every teenager his age craved but he is a good boy – I am proud to be his
dad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To life…”
he took another sip.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To the
future…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Beyond the
lawn, I could see movement. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My daughter…
still faceless… but recognizable… </i>In some ways, she probably brought us
together. She is nearing her teens now – truly an angel sent from heaven. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bulan… </i>Her mom hates that name but I
still call her that. She laughs at us when we recall those conversations about
her future name. I smile. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To
memories…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To Love…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And her face
comes unbidden to my inner eye. The angel who saved me from darkness and the
beautiful woman who showed me what love is… I don’t know what I would have been
if she wasn’t there. I was always yearning for that soul that will reach out
and hold my hand in hers. She taught me that life is indeed beautiful and
rescued a heart in the verge of surrendering to the cold and turned a mind in
the brink of utter despair. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To what
ifs…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I looked at
him. A smile played on his lips. I laughed as I realized what he meant. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
There are
many forks in the road of life. Each would have led to a different version of
tomorrow, each one with its own unique flavor. Like all paths, circumstances
would have led to various possibilities. We are all left with the hollow
supposition of images of what might have been. Some become prisoners of those
pretenses, forever caught in the unrealized products of ‘I should haves…’ and
‘If only…’ I must admit that there are moments when I wonder – but only as a
mental exercise in reflection of the choices I made in my life. They are
milestones…. memories… a collection of waypoints that define what is
collectively considered as the past. I loved truly…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
That
childhood crush I had which made me dedicate that song in the district meet…
that girl who made me go to school early in order to show her my newest poems… that
young girl who stole my heart whom I admired in secret because I knew even then
that she was out of my reach (she saved me, in many ways)… and that girl who
ran away leaving me with an unrealized hope and an unvoiced promise…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I loved
them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And I have
only the best of thoughts for them. We are but souls searching in this wide
world for a place to call home. In the few moments that we shared, we played a
dance that would have given us the answers to unspoken questions. Like
butterflies touching wings, we touched each other’s lives, hopefully for the
better. For me, each of them gave me a reason to keep on breathing, gifts I’ll
always cherish…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To the
woman who saved you…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I see her in
my mind’s eye again, wearing the brown sweater and sporting the most serene
smile I ever saw in a woman. There are moments in a man’s life when one’s soul
stands still and the heart instead of racing assumes a calm beat that wraps
one’s being with the warmth of peaceful bliss. That memory is seared in my
mind. She says she has no recollection of it… I just smile…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Life dealt
her many things – leaving her with a scarred soul that similarly yearned for
someone to stand beside her. Ours is an almost impossible miracle. I was
content to merely admire her from a distance. It was for me, a glimpse of a
road which if only time rewinded would probably be still unreachable. I saw my
path elsewhere, in a lonely road of unrequited and unspoken love… to a soul I
wanted to protect.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
That
impossible miracle happened. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just when I
thought my life was that of a lonely existence with only the company of words
and solitary walks with a cat named ‘Speed of Light’, she came and lifted me
out of the limbo that my world was fast becoming.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I raised my
glass, smiling through a few tears.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He smiled
approvingly. Slowly, he lowered his glass and turned away. I watched his
lonesome form fade into the shadows.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just when he
is about to be swallowed by the darkness, he turned. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Don’t
resurrect me back…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He gave me a
smile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stood
there in the empty train station long after he was gone. There was a little
sadness knowing that a part of me that wallowed in loneliness has gone into the
folds of memories but there was also happiness that he was no longer needed.
His last words rang in that vacant train station abandoned to the elements. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I smiled
finally and retraced my steps back into the surface.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Outside the
scent and sights of spring was everywhere. The warmth of the sun kissed my
cheeks, the slight breeze caressing my cheeks. I closed my eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was a
brand new day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The start of
a new chapter that leads to that future I can see when I close my eyes or when
she kisses me….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-47934436863106098062011-11-22T23:18:00.001-07:002011-11-22T23:18:52.514-07:00Transition...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My emotions
compel me to write. When I’m sad or lonely, I write. Most of my writings
probably fall under this type of emotional cloud. After all, most of my life
was wrapped in sadness and melancholy. The ache of my heart that knew nothing
except solitude and emptiness never really found that silver lining which would
have saved me from that despair.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But now,
things have changed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just when I
thought that I would drown forever in self-imposed isolation and sorrow,
someone has offered me a way out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I won’t lie
about it. It came unexpectedly…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Curve balls,
as I’ve always said. I was chasing a strand of a dream only to have its answer
come from another. Fictionalized pieces…suppositions of dreams where fictional
characters once inhabited so called lives are slowly giving way to something
that is tangible…something that is real…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I once
thought that my life is nothing more than an imagined story populated only by
characters that my imagination has created from reality. I don’t know the exact
point where it has started and as time passed, that line between reality and
fiction overlapped each other until I forgot which was which…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
What is
love?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I asked
myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I never
really knew the answer to this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Words to
define it elude me so.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I do
know this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have found
someone who has filled up that emptiness inside of me. And there are two people
right now that I really want to protect with all of my being.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
If that is
not love, then I do not know what is…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yes, in so
many ways, and so many levels, I probably loved other people. Some, I even
convinced myself to love in whole. But nothing compares to the swelling of my
heart that fills me up when I think of the woman who has given me her love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I may have
loved others in the past or fancied others but one by one, they have vanished
in her presence. I think we love other
people to know how blessed we are when we finally find the ‘one’.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I love her
so much.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I say that
with all of my soul and all of my being.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I won’t
mince it with flowery words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I say it as
a fact.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
November 19,
2011 – that’s the day I knew that my search was finally over. One day from now,
I’ll probably write that story but for now, the only thing I can say is that
this day will mark the beginning of the rest of my life. This is the day I commit myself to the woman
who I’ll love for forever. This is the day when fiction became fact. This is
the day I found the love that banished all others.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
There is
this movie when this couple goes into an elevator and a dumb couple gets in.
The man signs something and the woman jumps up to him and gives him a big hug
and a kiss. When they leave, the man asks the girl: ‘ What did he sign?’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
His answer
is also my answer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He signed “You
complete me…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…</div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-53434434827374246032011-10-25T01:49:00.001-06:002011-10-25T10:53:53.426-06:00Broken Promises<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright 2011 Johnny Domawa</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All Rights Reserved</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQ9BEZlkVU8JTsfl9PfOK5pkKaHlET67pNE8zrh9aO_QxLtcPzdZ5NZSRzHgN8O1k3I3Mc2Jd6lRTlDu3oSxyOvVJDbUBAGTcMs3QDBPtU1viJxLDGgK2XU9rf3GG07FE-feg-gNEFq0/s1600/broken_lady_peace_by_life117-d3186kp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQ9BEZlkVU8JTsfl9PfOK5pkKaHlET67pNE8zrh9aO_QxLtcPzdZ5NZSRzHgN8O1k3I3Mc2Jd6lRTlDu3oSxyOvVJDbUBAGTcMs3QDBPtU1viJxLDGgK2XU9rf3GG07FE-feg-gNEFq0/s400/broken_lady_peace_by_life117-d3186kp.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She grinned.
She couldn’t help herself. Today was the happiest day in her life. Granted that
she might have been apprehensive since last week when she started to feel
queasy in her stomach, but today… today is different…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Today is the
happiest day in her life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Perhaps… not
the happiest… she smiled inwardly. The happiest day for her is probably the day
he told her that he loved her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She could
still remember that day…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was
August, a beautiful day of August when the sky was clear blue and the flowers
were in full bloom. He had told her that he loved her and that he would always
be there for her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The hours
after that were filled with laughter and dreams coming true. Hours became days
and days into weeks and months… like pages in a fairytale story that had no
ending…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And now…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She smiled…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
This day is
the icing to the cake…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The
beginning of a new chapter in their story… of their life…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She skipped
along the path. A few passersby smiled at her gaiety and a few strangers even
gave him a wink as they saw how her cheeks were flushed with life and joy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She passed
by the confectionery shop. The smell of freshly baked bread and cinnamon filled
the air. She felt the delectable aroma of strawberry shortcake and her mouth
watered at the thought of savoring the it’s taste.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
On impulse,
she went in. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Sige na po Tatang…
(Come on Grandpa...)” she cajoled the shopkeeper. “Let me have it for half the
price…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The man on
the register smiled at her. She realized upon entering that she didn’t have the
money.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Please
Grandpa…” She winked at him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The old man
laughed and wrapped up the cake. Laughing, she took it and blew him a kiss
making the old man blush in return.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Once more,
she was on her way, a merry tune on her lips.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
This was her
day after all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And finally
she was there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He saw her
through the window and his face broke into a smile. She grinned and ran into
his arms.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hi Babe”
She hugged him and nibbled his ear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“And hi to
you too Honeypot” He kissed her back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I’ve got a
surprise for you.” She giggled, unable to contain her joy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He grinned
and let her go. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh, I
forgot…”She scampered back to where she left the box of cake. “I got you your
favorite”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh honeypot…
you shouldn’t have…” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Here,
susubuan kita (I’ll feed you…)” She cooed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“So what is
your surprise?” He asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Her eyes
twinkled and leaned close to him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“We’re
pregnant.” She whispered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Wha…!!!” He
backed away, stunned. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She giggled
and made a move to embrace him again</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I’m
pregnant!” She said, louder this time and stepped towards him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What?!!” He
remained stunned and avoided her lunge. She giggled and made another lunge
again. But once more he avoided her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I’m
pregnant!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I’m pre – “
She stopped. His eyes were clouded and the sudden change made her stop on her
tracks. She felt as if cold water was poured on her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“…pregnant.”
She froze. He was different. His eyes were different. There was a sharpness
there that pierced the distance between them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Babe…” She
made a tentative step towards him. She reached for him. For a moment, she
thought it was the perfect gesture and for a moment, he seemed to reach for her
but just as she was about to touch him, he bristled and swatted her hands, the
force of it pushing her towards the floor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She felt
herself lose her balance. She might have had regained it and for a brief
instant, her instinct to break her fall was in her mind but the combination of
surprise and disbelief numbed her reflexes. Her body felt heavy and she felt
the vague sensation of her body hitting the floor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
There was no
pain. Not when her face hit the hard concrete. The only pain she felt was the
breaking of her heart. Her thoughts were jumbled… broken pieces of images
without any order at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
There was
only the image of his eyes. More than anger, more than anything she feared.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She felt a
dull sensation of something in her body, thuds that made her body twitch but
those sensations were distant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then
there was darkness…</div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.5pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext 1.5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“How does it
look?” The detective asked the investigator on scene. Behind the yellow police
line, he could see the broken glass and the red splatter on the walls that are
just slowly drying up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The
investigator shook his head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That bad,
eh?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She was
beaten to a pulp… kicked a hundred times looks like it…” The investigator, a
veteran of many crime scenes seemed badly shaken.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The
detective simply nodded. Even veterans like them have their limits when looking
at the results of human depravity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Any idea
about the motive?” He asked instead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The other
flipped over his notebook. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“As far as
we know, they are a happy couple.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Nobody beats
their girlfriend to death like that if they are a happy couple…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I know...”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Their
attention was diverted suddenly when a white robed man burst out from the scene
and vomited into the bushes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was the
coroner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What’s
wrong doc?” the detective approached the man, dreading the answer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The coroner winced,
looking up at him. There was a haunted look in his face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She was
pregnant…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright 2011 Johnny Domawa</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All Rights Reserved</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-24694070351545881362011-10-24T21:14:00.000-06:002011-10-24T21:14:53.594-06:00Conversations with the Self: Gratitude...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Aren’t you
supposed to write another horror story?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I looked at
him. I wonder what changed. I cannot pinpoint what it is but right at this
moment, I knew that something was different. I heard his question but that was
not the most important thing right now. Looking at him in the cold airless
emptiness that is the abandoned subway station, I could not help but feel
something slip away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yet I could
not put my finger on it. The concept of it eludes my mind. I am only left with
hints as to what it is.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
For one
thing, I could not help but feel the familiar heaviness of sadness – but it is
not a sadness that is borne of grief, but rather a sadness borne of realization…
It is a dull throbbing that is achy… which almost compels you to try and
scratch at your soul. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I nodded. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But it is
more than sadness… The word to describe it eludes me…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like water
that slips away from one’s hands… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It cannot be
grasped – it is something that can only be felt…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I see” he
says. He seems to know it too. The way he tilted his head in resignation as he
smiled faintly into the distance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We both see
the same things… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
From
different perspectives, perhaps in so many ways…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
That is the
tragedy that warps both our consciousness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We wage a
continuing struggle in the depths of my mind – the poet who yearns for the
tragic existence of a life spent in self-imposed isolation and artistic sacrifice…
and the writer that screams for the warmth of human companionship. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
One craves
pain and solitude to feel alive and the other desires to be rid of the
loneliness that slowly devours my soul into a hollow emptiness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yet I too
know that in the depths of his frozen heart that yearns for the tragedy of
absolute solitude, he also seeks for that flame that will thaw out the ice that
holds everything at a distance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Who will win
in the end? I wonder…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Would I
spend the rest of my days drowning in self-imposed sadness in the middle of a forest somewhere with only
my mind for company consoled only by the sad refrain of the strains of a violin
while drinking wine under the pale light of the moon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Or would
that future be changed into the warmth of a home embraced by the love of a
woman who will rescue me from this prison that slowly engulfs me; with the
laughter of children and grandchildren that will banish the echoes of emptiness
that ring in the corridors of my soul.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You are
finding God again.” It was a statement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I nodded. It’s
not that we hated God before or refused to acknowledge divine presence. Was it
resentment that I ran away from Him? Maybe… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sometimes
having the mind that grasp complicated things is a curse when it drowns the
mind with frustration and bitterness… Existence is a farce… mortals are nothing
more than pawns caught in between light and shadow… thoughts like these… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I knew
inevitably that I will find my way to Him again…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Part of
chasing away the darkness that lingers in my heart is to find my way back to
the light. I grew tired of life; or rather of life without meaning… Human
despair, the madness of mortal hearts that crush and tear each other apart – </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A mind without
meaning tires itself to the point where
life becomes an empty existence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
That gave
birth to the poet…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He who
stands in front of me now; the one who stares at me in front of the mirror…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We are one
and the same…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She must be
some woman.” He laughed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I laughed
with him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I don’t
stand a chance though…” I said. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hmm” He
grinned. “It’s the story of our life, it would seem”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We both
laughed into the emptiness, the echoes resounding in the cavernous expanse of
the abandoned station. It was a laughter born of realizing that even when one
is saved, one finds despair. And yet…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…there is
redemption there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
During the
course of an entire lifetime, people touch each other’s souls. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In innocent
gestures such as simple words, one soul can save another…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It is
indeed the story of our life…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Curve balls…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Curve balls
indeed…” I smile. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>We go
through life looking for that hand that will save us. I think we are all the
same, empty souls searching for meaning in a world that offers mostly illusions.
This is why we dream and why we wake up every day.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>We ask God
why we exist… to find Him, yes… to provide an answer to the one who is taunting
Him; but life is also about knowing how wonderful life is, to know what it
means to laugh and smile, to know pain and sadness so that happiness can be
appreciated…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Thank you…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>It’s the
least I can say…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Arigatto…
Yorushiko onegaishimasu…</i></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-42597211640911996422011-10-24T15:31:00.000-06:002011-10-24T15:33:54.800-06:00Q-tips and Luggages...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzYuqPek0VX3T0KtKzuAJ9z3cVL2OsU9OE0T6YGCUMsfFhtZjrS9aX14jWtQ2naBY-o3rR4asjEVViexXzlWw8pkktcCKM1w_VjrZIaqvM9bJUINkBzy2wjCbANKg3tlsQAcnQD6X76g/s1600/2011-10-24+15.13.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzYuqPek0VX3T0KtKzuAJ9z3cVL2OsU9OE0T6YGCUMsfFhtZjrS9aX14jWtQ2naBY-o3rR4asjEVViexXzlWw8pkktcCKM1w_VjrZIaqvM9bJUINkBzy2wjCbANKg3tlsQAcnQD6X76g/s400/2011-10-24+15.13.22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>Four large suitcases…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…maybe five counting the smaller ones…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I should be
living off a single suitcase or maybe two…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ideally, I
should be living off two mid-size suitcases…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…but there are five large ones…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maybe I
shouldn’t be buying books anymore…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Who am I
kidding?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe buy a Kindle instead or another
e-reader…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…that way I don’t lug my books everytime I
move…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…but I love the feel of paper in my fingers
and the weight of a physical book can never be replaced by electronic gadgets…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I should
definitely have to throw away some clothes… I never imagined I’ve bought this
much again… I’ll never wear all of them anyway…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…but this is a batch T-shirt; this one is a
gift from my students; and this one I wore from that time…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Surveying
the pile of clothes, I wonder if I can ever choose to discard them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have to anyway…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Except for
the thick winter jackets, and the numerous sweats that I have to wear like a
second skin to survive the cold… and the formal wear, of course…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Seven pairs of shoes… ideally two pairs for
each season…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I should ditch some of them…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I can’t… not
yet anyway…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then my
gadgets…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Too many
wires and accessories…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A heavy
tripod…make that two… reflectors… lenses…chargers… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can’t do without them…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Damn…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Basic gear…
a towel, blankets, portable sleeping bags, a pillow… toiletries…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Way too much
gear…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ah….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stand in
the middle of the mess. On one hand, I clutch a clump of documents and in
another, I hold a box of Q-tips…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A wave of
melancholy sweeps over me and I sit down at the edge of the bed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
(Sigh)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Another
crossroad looms ahead in the distance. For reasons that cannot be put into words,
I am trembling in a mixture of emotions that fight against each other in my
mind….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but this is life… It is beautiful in its
chaos, wonderfully amazing in its unpredictability…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…and one can only put one foot after the other…
and to keep on walking… and trusting God above to lead one to the end of the
road…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…but still, four large suitcases (or five…)…
that’s still too much…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">….</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-25352370931353343182011-10-18T17:27:00.002-06:002011-10-18T19:50:52.329-06:00Words...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Copyright 2011 Johnny Domawa</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">All Rights Reserved</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“What the
hell are you doing?” His voice is sharp in my ears. I didn’t turn to him or
give him an indication that I heard him. I know what he was getting at and
right at that moment, I had no desire to voice out my own doubts so I ignored
him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stared
across the empty train station. This was my private place – an abandoned subway
station left to the elements and forgotten by time. You might say that I stumbled
upon it during the course of my solitary walks in the city.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mercifully,
he was silent this time… my shadow and my friend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I walked to
the edge of the platform and looked into the darkened tunnel ahead. The tracks
faded into the darkness to what is probably a dead-end somewhere up ahead,
boarded up or cut down.... I really never thought about it. It’s much like life…
the ending is never the point of it. It never is…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I gazed at
the tracks I could see, noting where the rust is slowly reclaiming what is left
of the steel tracks. I give it a hundred years for everything to
disappear if it is left as it is. It might seem long in human years but in the greater sphere of
things, it is nothing more than a blink of an eye, maybe shorter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It might not
last that long though. Someone in the bureaucracy will probably find it in the
papers somewhere and will order for it to be broken down and another edifice of human
accomplishment designed to fall to dust somewhere in the eons that will come will be built in its place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I can draw a
lot of comparisons to it. The brevity of human life for one, the flickering of
mortal dreams and aspirations… everything which fades and turns to dust…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What the hell am I doing?</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Even I have
no clear cut answers to this question. What am I doing? True..., I can give some answers
but those are superficial at best. I don’t have anything specific, just
generalizations of goals that are changing and aimless... </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Do you
think you can do it?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
This time, I
looked at him. As usual, his face is hidden in the shadows. He is good at that.
I know his face, of course but he always manages to hide it as if his whole
life depended on him shielding it from the light. He is always hiding… not that I blame him for it. For him…
<i>for us</i>, rather, it’s the only thing left to do…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To hide
under false facades and to project outward appearances to mask who we really
are when we are alone in places like this. Pitiful creatures we are both…
strong on the outside but really weak insecure men inside… It is laughable now,
the existence that we both lead…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No…” I
answer. It is the truth. Nothing grandiose or spectacular about it. Not for
lack of confidence or anything. Honestly, I have no confidence if I can do anything
or not. Of whether I can even manage to fulfill the promise I gave to myself once to
at least try. There are many things I am still unsure of, too many variables
that remain unresolved... and too many things that remain in the haze of the
uncertain future.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We both know
the reason we ask this. This is just one of the walls that need to be climbed
over if the path that is shown over the hill yonder is going to be the road I’ll
follow in this life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am nobody.
A thirty year old fish in the sea starting once more from scratch, back against
the wall, adrift mostly in this ocean that is called life. My existence is but
a drop whose ripple can be barely felt in the wake of the wave that run on
towards infinity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don’t even
have the confidence to deliver on my own promises or my own goals for that
matter. The years up ahead and God above are the only ones who know what
happens in the end. I might come out as the man with all the answers but the
truth is, I’m not that.... I’m just another fool in this life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But this is
life. One can only write and speak words which are rendered meaningless without
resolve. If I fail, I’ll fail in a spectacular fashion. That’s what it is
all about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stood up,
brushing away the kinks in my muscles.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Winter is
coming…” I can already feel the bite of the cold in the air. Even underground,
the end of autumn is apparent, the chill of the northern winds starting to make
themselves felt....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He grunted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We stared
into the gathering darkness. Night is getting early in the north now. It will
only be a matter of time before the winter reclaims the land in his embrace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I picked an
old can of pop from the floor. The label has faded but there is no mistaking
the green color of ginger ale with the mark of the Great White North that once covered it. I
smiled at the familiarity of it's presence. Just one of the things I’ve come to like here.
It was a realization tinged with many things now... </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Adulthood
changes people. Like how time has made the label of the can fade. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>My past idealism…
my juvenile dreams… hopes of making it big in this world…</i> looking at those
aspirations makes me look at the future wistfully.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I flexed my
arms and threw the can into the tracks. I watched it disappear, heard the noise
of aluminum echo in the emptiness. The sound carried itself into the dull ache
in my bosom, accentuating the chaotic emotions that warred there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Do you
think that it will work out for the best?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Somewhere in
the distance, the can has settled, the last sound of it fading into silence. I did
not look at him. I heard his question, let it hang into the moment… not really
wanting to answer it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because the
truth is, I’m not really sure of anything. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I ignored
him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He seemed to
read into my silence and mercifully kept quiet. I seriously doubt I can pull it
off though. I’m back to square one in everything. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I’m going…”
I turned away. I tire of thinking...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My footfalls
echoed in the stillness. He made no move to follow me. Reaching the end of the
platform to the stairs going up, I slowly turned around.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He was
leaning into the column where I saw him last, still draped in shadow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Did you do
it then?” he asked, looking my way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I shook my
head.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I see…” he
turned away. Even with me not being able to see his face, I knew that that he
was disappointed. I smiled weakly in his direction and turned around again. Half
a step up, I turned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Indirectly…” I spoke, remembering...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What…” he
didn’t hear me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I said
indirectly…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ah.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Someday, I’ll
do it properly and say it…” But even while uttering the words, I knew that I am unsure of even that happening.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He nodded. We
both know what that meant. Despite my desire to say it, I might succumb to the
familiar twinge of fear again that will freeze me senseless when the time comes. Even if I promise
myself to be honest someday, I might just surrender to my own inability to be
brave when it counts. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And we both know
it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I once said
that the tragedy of our life is our own making. The irony of it is that I know
it and yet I willingly allow myself to fall in the trap.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You know
something…” I stared into the distance. “I imagine the many ways I’d be able to
say it… the scenarios play over and over on my mind that sometimes, I wonder if
I’m sane…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He remained
silent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ain’t life
strange, somehow?” I asked into the void, more for my benefit than anything. “When
I was younger, I told myself that when I am finally in this position, I won’t
let anything stop me… that even if it is hell or heaven that stood between me
and the one, I’d do everything in my power to make it come true…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“And then it
finally happens and where does that leave me?...” the familiar pain in my heart started
to tingle again. “…a coward…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I started
towards the exit again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hey…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stopped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You said
indirectly”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I turned to
face him and nodded.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That’s a
start…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-75362171359162940752011-10-17T23:29:00.000-06:002011-10-17T23:29:43.409-06:00About Men and Salary Inequality<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I'm gonna quote this word for word from a man's comment on a post of a dear friend about the inequality found in the workplace between men and women:<br /><br />"A men is a born a hunter, his genetic mind is programmed to feed his clan, his family, he must bring the prey to home.<br /><br />Nowadays, when a men earns less than his women,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">he loose confidence on himself,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br />then he might develop a self destructive behavior,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br />because he feel not deserving a family.<br /><br />This ends up to cause a lot of couple destruction's worldwide.<br />This ideology so called "egalitarianism" on Job and Money, causes many families to desecration.<br /><br />No money No honey. This is "logic" and "acceptable" according our "modern" values.<br /><br />I do assume it, and accept it totally, and i ll stick with it,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br />even tough i suffer great loss."<br /><br />I pressed the like button. In a politically correct world, an ideal world... it is flawed logic. But we don't live in an ideal world or a politically correct world. I won't say that it is proper or that it is right (because in a certain way, it is flawed) but as imperfect men, this is our reality and expresses our own limitations.<br /><br />Much like a feminist fighting for equal rights will still demand that men give up their seats for them on a crowded train, we also have our pride. Don't blame us if we want to be the 'man' because at the end of the day, that's the only thing we have.<br /><br />The love of our children goes to the mom. Our sons will hate us, our bosses will shout at us and our favourite teams will lose to the competition. We will see beautiful women go to rich, pampered playboys and we will see our belly's swell up and our wives cry at soap operas and Brad Pitt.<br /><br />So yeah, we want to be men who bring home the bacon. At the end of the day, it's all we have - to say that we worked our ass off for our families.<br /><br />It is a flawed reasoning... I know. We, men ain't perfect.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #edeff4; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 14px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">I'll probably draw a lot of slack from women but someone has to bear the brunt of it, hehe. Peace!!<br /><br />This is what your men want to say, but can't and since no one can still kick me out of the house to sleep in the cold streets yet... I'll suffer it, haha<br /><br />Men, friends, if you empathize with this and are ok sleeping out tonight, share it. If not, it is understandable, LOL</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The biggest source of pride of men, the true symbol of his
manhood is not his face or his ability to make women attracted to him - it has
and will always be his ability to provide for his family.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you take it away from him, in his eyes, he is nothing
even when he says that he is ok with it. This is why some husbands drink, why
they gamble and why they become distant to their wives and family, why good men
turn bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is stupid, we all know but this is man's reality. So if
your family suffers from these, maybe this is the reason even when it is denied
point blank. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cure...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
...unfortunately, there is none and that's the tragedy…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can blame them for being weak (which will make it
worse-because they are already down and you are trampling their manhood
again...)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can quit your high position (which is worse because they
will blame themselves for it...)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can stay silent (which is also bad because they feel
insecure)</div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-7941588529016766152011-10-17T19:24:00.002-06:002011-10-17T19:25:46.919-06:00God's Mercy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Wlvb14tiQow?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 14px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">My doctor is a rocker dude...<br /><br />He's got long hair, walks with a swagger and he doesn't really dress in white. He doesn't even carry a stethoscope around. First time I saw him, I thought he was the janitor or something... and then he walked into the examination room, took a look at me and said "Why don't you sit down?"<br /><br />I was actually waiting for him to say 'dude' or 'man' after...except he didn't.<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Anyway after a rather fast check-up, he gave me a prescription and a short lecture on the L1, L2, L3 and L4 vertebrae and the possible meaning of my pain. Needless to say, I was too much in pain to actually appreciate him that time.<br /><br />And then the meds worked. I still remain stiff and have difficulty twisting in awkward positions and my back seems to be unhinged sometimes but what he gave me worked... So I came back to his office with better spirits than before.<br /><br />To be honest, I was thinking the worst when I took the bus to him. Images of whether I'm written off now in the invalid list or living with a paralyzing possibility consumed me. So I was rather glum and nervous.<br /><br />The moment he entered the door, he went straight to the figure of the backbone on the wall, flipping his blond hair like a whip behind his back.<br /><br />"See this." He said, pointing to the L2, L3 and L4 bones. I meekly nodded. "These disks..." he motioned to the cartilage between the vertebrae. "...in yours, they are a bit thinner than usual."<br /><br />My face blanched. I've read in advance about those conditions, it was not looking good at all. It was not life - threatening, mind you but it meant a life with lots of restrictions, much worse - wheelchair bound as an invalid... I felt cold sweat form in my body.<br /><br />"So what happens is that when they swell, they pinch these nerves." he pointed the flesh coloured nerves in between the bones and he made a motion down his leg "ergo causing the pain you feel"<br /><br />I nodded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />'So what can be done?" I asked fearing the answer.<br /><br />He looked at me.<br /><br />"Nothing."<br /><br />I stared at him, not really believing that he just said that.<br /><br />"It's gonna flare up every now and then whenever they get inflamed and will probably get worse with age, but with proper exercise and diet, you'll do fine... just don't suffer a god damn accident with your back or something and you'll do okay."<br /><br />"Uh... okay" I stammered, a little bit relieved that it was not as serious as I thought. "You gave me a big reason for me to stick to a diet, haha" I chuckled.<br /><br />He stared at me.<br /><br />Then he grinned. "I better not see you again in here then till you're 60."<br /><br />I felt more relaxed. "By that time, you'll be a hundred..." I joked "...and you're not even my doctor..."<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />For he was leaving Calgary in December thus he was a one time thing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />He laughed and tossed his hair behind his back again. He gave me my fresh set of prescriptions and gave me a pat in the back.<br /><br />"You'll do fine." he said and led me to the door.<br /><br />I smiled.<br /><br />Outside, my mind was relieved. Hopefully, indeed, I'll only get to see the insides of a hospital or a clinic till I am 60. I still have pain and I still walk a bit slow but so far, the news was good. I clutched at the prescription and the XRay result.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />I still have a chance to climb my mountains and hike and camp out and trek the trails of Jasper, the Pacific Rim Park and the other parks here in North America.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />Life has not yet abandoned me and God continues to watch over me, it seems...<br /><br />And life is still so damn beautiful...<br /><br />And my doctor is a rocker dude...</span></span>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-56938269153842315882011-10-17T00:13:00.000-06:002011-10-17T00:18:30.432-06:00A Fairy Tale Gone Bad<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsuGThCa3ar8U6-MX0rBI8TJhUKhl5U3Du5RZE3nQ0tBGsuBfJyyVoZ6xHnsfa2kxXeasjxnOeHjp9EXwNwAlkuTFJlrDjIKOHwROxXQBjYKAvUECPC1jG7dHbry1XMaI0g1X0Fi79eFI/s1600/domestic-violence-verbal-abuse-small-92172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsuGThCa3ar8U6-MX0rBI8TJhUKhl5U3Du5RZE3nQ0tBGsuBfJyyVoZ6xHnsfa2kxXeasjxnOeHjp9EXwNwAlkuTFJlrDjIKOHwROxXQBjYKAvUECPC1jG7dHbry1XMaI0g1X0Fi79eFI/s640/domestic-violence-verbal-abuse-small-92172.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b>Horror Story
Number 1:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Every horror
story starts with a good beginning. Because if a horror story does not begin
with a good beginning, it is not effective as a horror story….</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>The better
half of October leads to All Hallows Eve which for many is much better known as
Halloween. It’s the time of the year when people dress themselves up in the
most scary of costumes (or in some cases, in costumes you dream of which are
normally kept in the depths of one’s consciousness – like dressing as a
dominatrix or a princess without being judged for it). It is also the time of
the year when people scare each other senseless with vampire and other monster
stories.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>I’m going to
add mine to the mix but I will warn you that my stories are a little bit
different but they are damn scary… </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<u><b>Story Number
1: A Fairy Tale Gone Bad</b></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<u><b><br /></b></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright 2011 Johnny Domawa</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All Rights Reserved </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The sound of
the clock pierced the silence of the room like a cold knife. In the fading
light of the August sun, the furniture cast their solitary shadows in the
corners further accentuating the somber atmosphere. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
At first
glance, the room resembled the usual suburban home. On one corner, a TV laid on
top of a DVD player. Arranged like monobloc pieces, box type couches surrounded
it like silent sentinels. A lone indoor palm tree covered the eastern corner of
the room flanking a vanity table decorated with smiling family pictures, the
most prominent being the center one showing a smiling dad holding a five year
old kid and a beaming mom holding a blanket swaddled baby – a normal suburban
family.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A soft sob
suddenly broke the spell. From one of the couches, a shadow extricated itself. The
figure cast a gaunt figure in the fading light. Shoulders hunched, the face
shrouded against the light, it almost looked like a Japanese ghost rising from
the darkness – except this was not a ghost.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The figure
straightened and walked into the light. The play of the afternoon sun cast a
dark silhouette in her face. In many ways, she still resembled her image in the
picture by the mantelpiece, except that where there was once smooth skin, deep
lines now crisscrossed her features. Dark circles now frame what were once
bright expressive eyes, red with tears that refuse to flow anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She gingerly
approached the pictures on the mantelpiece and a trembling hand snaked out to
reach for the frames but before she could touch one, her fingers froze and
reluctantly she withdrew them. Sounds of children’s giggles wafted gently from
the closed doorway. 7</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The figure
straightened out, almost growing a half meter as she recognized the sounds. The
deep lines of her face mysteriously faded as her visage took on an almost
miraculous transformation. Yet some of the darkness still remained and some of the
wan color of her skin still remained. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
With purposeful
strides, she crossed the expanse of the room, switching on the lights on her
way banishing the dark shadows away. She forced a smile and opened the door
letting in two bickering children, the older male now eight dragging his
knapsack across the foyer and the younger female kindergartener pouting at her
brother.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hi mom!” The kindergartener flashed a bright smile at
her and she stooped down to receive a kiss. The older kid groaned as he
attempted to escape her grasp but she wouldn’t let him.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Aw mom…” he
squirmed as she asked for her kiss and got it. Her sister smiled and they all
laughed at his expense.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The room was
filled with noise as they all went in. Momentarily the rich aroma of fried eggs
and stew filled the room. The kids laughter and squeals chased the dark cloud
that hung over it a few hours ago. After a few good-natured ribbings between parent and children, a few
chases to force them to brush their teeth and to take their nightly bath and a
few protests when they were tucked in bed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then slowly
sleep took hold of them and once more, she was
alone. She opened the night lights, her shoulders hunched back once
more, the lines returned and the dark hollow circles framed her eyes once more.
Worried eyes periodically glanced over the clock on the wall and the door.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Outside,
night has swiftly stolen away the light and the dull sound of the streets
replaced the once vibrant sounds of daytime. Time slowed… and once more the
room was taken over by the dull clicking of the clock.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Presently, a
new noise came over through the door, the sound of something dragging against
the concrete wall.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She
stiffened and a white knuckled hand gripped her knees. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The sound
presently stopped. She froze.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then there
was the clink of keys being fumbled on. She stared at the door, not blinking at
all. She swallowed hard. A curse pierced the silence and the man behind the
door shook the knob violently. Her body jerked with each grating sound. She made
a move to go open it but her body failed her. She watched in zombie like state
as the knob started to turn and the louder curses issued. Only when it started
to open did she rise up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
With movement
bordering in urgency, she covered the distance and narrowly escaped the door
slamming on her face. An angry face was behind it. She dropped her gaze
mumbling an excuse. The man, the same man on the picture watched her
ministrations with sharp penetrating eyes. Gone was any trace of mirth that was
present in the picture. In its place was a mixture of contempt and disgust
tinged with the madness of alcohol induced anger.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She
continued to avoid his eyes and instead meekly took his briefcase turning
around quickly to take it to the living room. Behind her, her husband watched
her movement with barely concealed scorn. He grunted and let go an expletive
under his breath. He slammed the door behind him, the sound making her jump in
fear which he didn’t see.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Dinner is
on the table…” she ventured docilely. He kicked his shoes away, dropping his
coat on the floor. If he heard her, he didn’t make any sound of
acknowledgement. He stomped his way to the kitchen, leaving her quaking in his
wake. She watched his form and bit her lower lip to still her trembling body. When
he disappeared, she quickly went to the mess quickly fixing the scattered shoes
and coat, wiping tears from her face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What the
heck is this? Are you trying to f****g kill me?” his voice barked from the kitchen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She froze. The
sound of a hand striking the table followed the expletive. She clutched his
coat that she was about to hang in the closet and she stifled another sob. She glanced
at the picture in the mantelpiece. There was a time when he seemed to be like
everything she wanted, a time when he was the prince charming in her life. When
did it change?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
More expletives
came from the kitchen. Her body shuddered with each sound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She stood
near the closet, still clutching at his coat, her breathing escaping in sudden
rasps, some caught in her throat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
After long
drawn out moments, new noises came from the kitchen and she stiffened.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Her husband
came into view. He saw her standing and his eyes flared in anger. Then they
softened as a wicked smile came over his face. He gestured to her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
For a
moment, she faltered. His countenance started to harden and she found her body
moving. Like an automaton, she moved towards him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He smiled
and for a moment, she imagined that it was the same smile that he once offered
but she knew that it was simply an illusion. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next
minutes were almost surreal. She could feel his hands pawing at her, she felt
the momentary sting of the cold as her clothes were removed. She could smell
the whisky in his breath as he slobbered her with kisses and pain momentarily
erupted as his hands roughly clawed her in what were once loving caresses.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She was
there but she wasn’t there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She caught
her reflection in the face of the clock.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
She was
crying…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright 2011 Johnny Domawa</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All Rights Reserved </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-7782672507153823492011-10-15T21:01:00.001-06:002011-10-15T22:08:49.861-06:00Aspirations...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Yam5uK6e-bQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
People
forget often what they want out of life. I know because I myself am guilty. But
I think it is part of life to be diverted into side roads before we finish our
main journey. Otherwise life would be nothing more than a one sided affair.
It’s the side roads that color our lives and remind us about our goals when we
feel like slipping away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As trekkers
in this journey called life, we need to have a goal in mind. Without one, it is
like boarding a boat without a destination. This goal is our lighthouse beacon
–something to guide our way that will keep us anchored and focused. And it does
not matter whether we reach it in the end – the important thing is that we have
one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Truth be
told, I never really had one for the better part of twenty years. Youth has a
way of muddling up the details in the moment and thoughts like these kind of
make life uninteresting. After all as young kids, nobody wanted to live a
structured life. We hated the boorish lives that our parents lived and we
promised ourselves that we wouldn’t fall on to the same traps that we saw them
fall into….</div>
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<br /></div>
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Adulthood
changed that, of course. It was expected in a way, but nevertheless, it was
rather deflating to realize how cold and rigidly structured the world is.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Everyone of
us have this vision of what he or she wants in this life. It can take many
forms. Mostly, it has something to do with a lifestyle – we all want to be
happy. Mostly, this takes a rather hazy notion – no one knows his or her
version of happiness yet at ones teenage and early young adulthood years. It
only takes on a concrete form when we finally grow up…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mostly it
takes the form of a family – particularly for those of Asian descent. Having a
family as our happiness goal is ingrained in our cultures. Without one, we
think of life as incomplete. It starts with certain stages… love comes to mind.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As
youngsters, we dream of falling in love with the ‘one’ and fighting the world
to be with the one we most desire. I think everyone is allowed to do that: to
fall in love and be in love…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To fight and
cry and to feel that tingle when you gaze into the eyes of your beloved – to
fight with him or her and feel your heart race when she is near… to spend
sleepless nights dreaming of what your lives can be. Everyone deserves to feel that once in a
lifetime kick that would color our lives in hues that would never be felt
again…</div>
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<br /></div>
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…at least
till reality sets in and we become more somber and mature (and our vision of
the world becomes less colorful, haha…)</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then
it’s on to the next stage… and you know what it is.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Children…</div>
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<br /></div>
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Whether we
consider them to be the continuation of the dreams we could not realize in our
lifetimes or whether they are the fruits of a love between a husband and a wife
or (hehe) it might be the result of a moment’s lapse in judgment, it does not
matter – children are the next step.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Children
makes us forget the madness of juvenile love (or a forced marriage of
convenience) or hehe, unrequited love or something like that… People who were
once so conscious of their bodies or how they looked start to find out that
parenthood changes them in ways that they never imagined (hehe) and priorities
change…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
People live
for their children whether they like it or not, whether they choose it or not…
Even the bad parents live for their children…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then the
years pass by like a fast train and the realities of age finally creep up to
catch up with everyone of us. Children grow up and we become grandparents and
we finally settle into retirement.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then the
hope is we find that happiness we searched for. Not something specific but
something general – a concept… much like how love or falling in love is a
concept. Happiness is this…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Which brings
me to the initial statement of this piece…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not everyone
has this as his goal in life. Everyone wants it of course, whether professed or
secretly wished for….</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mine is a
farm in the middle of the woods somewhere with my books and my dog. I nearly
missed that in the rush of things in this life… and it took a visit to the
clinic and a reality check on the state of my body to remind me of this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-83938462961830227802011-10-07T17:18:00.002-06:002011-10-15T23:39:26.740-06:00Photo Uploads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<u><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbXYNulpdKi-OZ16uoKvjSyXomE6v1dzHZofBw_ilZKhn-ZQn9pqEBhGIxy0EknKT6aZkgZpoCjcowxJ9uixqPywWGXa8pB4yfR4NSnx58E7q0339ZqC9oYX3hqCv8VY1kHNbJSMVwkY/s1600/DSC_6107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></b></u></div>
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<u><b>Photo Uploads 1</b></u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMQxIclZWqUmI-SEmyNPvqbM77w955x7mbgNK0pd81IjHzIXjbVY2uwaBc8kva-AcI8u4vrgbT087RA_8A_yNclfVQ-544AnsZ2ru6lbFI_egyqsFE4LLqaKvMnFNyTBeopFyazSC06Q/s1600/DSC_6102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHW5kdh7Hn2apFa1z5vvzm5kLwte07Qy9Lag0UgEikVOTM4fZZw6l3gl1nMf_mMHbI1ByAG6a01bv8KnODOCzcHloqDZImhyphenhyphengKTxcPsHPBcEkWJBaglIQ6g8vOMLwc2vx4LgqPsQe3mqw/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHW5kdh7Hn2apFa1z5vvzm5kLwte07Qy9Lag0UgEikVOTM4fZZw6l3gl1nMf_mMHbI1ByAG6a01bv8KnODOCzcHloqDZImhyphenhyphengKTxcPsHPBcEkWJBaglIQ6g8vOMLwc2vx4LgqPsQe3mqw/s640/1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><u>The Fabled Besao Sunset</u></b></div>
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Best viewed during the dry heat of summer when the entire</div>
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western sky is set ablaze in a rich swathe of red and orange.</div>
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This photo was taken during the cold months of December high above Mount Mogao </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhHwCV8I3HfOaExRmRK-Lce-QFM_p6jPy_CXC-pk8Qg_cMR9U-jn4npkcusz94_jUTkspzryaT3dIWRfq9zXf2HlCkjlnx6MKeYi9YVN5O5nySGM5X7cr4e9wy6mMz4UsyCRkZ2ZRvYk/s1600/2+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhHwCV8I3HfOaExRmRK-Lce-QFM_p6jPy_CXC-pk8Qg_cMR9U-jn4npkcusz94_jUTkspzryaT3dIWRfq9zXf2HlCkjlnx6MKeYi9YVN5O5nySGM5X7cr4e9wy6mMz4UsyCRkZ2ZRvYk/s640/2+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><b>Skies over Ilocos as seen from the summit of Mount Mogao</b></u></div>
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On a clear day, you can almost see the wide plains of Ilocos from the summit.</div>
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You can also see Tirad Pass near the west and sometimes your eyes will</div>
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play tricks on you and you can see the mirage of the China Sea far beyond</div>
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<u><b>Hula Dancers in Haze</b></u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdjuHyNzGuGWxvNAa2XRR8HzajVUd32quW7pWSJRaZctSyQkVokBOjMSZeYoljeIRxxjGt4ikXDktXwRwD-xUaN1bh6VT0x8jVb6lR-Pjeu0Gj6jHnS4rl4JcOsD-G1sMLnL5GiQJdEM/s1600/4+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdjuHyNzGuGWxvNAa2XRR8HzajVUd32quW7pWSJRaZctSyQkVokBOjMSZeYoljeIRxxjGt4ikXDktXwRwD-xUaN1bh6VT0x8jVb6lR-Pjeu0Gj6jHnS4rl4JcOsD-G1sMLnL5GiQJdEM/s640/4+%25283%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><b>A Fisherman in Lake Banao</b></u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTuIBonj_oPfwtvpzbVm27AhFMUcgVnGXXozry6hpWCy-_4jXyEpGcsQe4QDpVN58-g6Fo_KhtWcwa_7Us4JpiqaWgJXcHBTxQLIxbgeVs6rfp7F5mAVuY29Ffdg4SEmk55VhLRScd2Y/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTuIBonj_oPfwtvpzbVm27AhFMUcgVnGXXozry6hpWCy-_4jXyEpGcsQe4QDpVN58-g6Fo_KhtWcwa_7Us4JpiqaWgJXcHBTxQLIxbgeVs6rfp7F5mAVuY29Ffdg4SEmk55VhLRScd2Y/s640/5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><b>Faded Blooms in Halflight</b></u></div>
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<u><b>Self Portrait 1</b></u></div>
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<b><u>Self Portrait 2</u></b></div>
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<b>Self Portrait 3</b></div>
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<br /></div>ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-46141862156623284092011-10-06T12:41:00.002-06:002011-10-06T12:41:50.378-06:00Flirting with Despair..<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I’ve always
been a healthy guy. Before 2009, I’ve only been hospitalized twice: one for
chickenpox in Grade 5 and another for fever 1999. And though I’ve been large
bodied (hehehe) since third year college, I believed that I was ok.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
After all, I
steered clear of smoking and drinking and other vices that would have felled
much stronger men. My being fat was more or less a result of a rather sedentary
lifestyle. I don’t eat lots, even skipping breakfast and lunch most of the time
but I rarely have any activities save working and going for short walks. I
figured I still had time, you know… to correct my lifestyle when I reach middle
age.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then I
had that scare in late 2009. It was ultimately considered a misdiagnosis on the
doctors part but it was an eye opener of sorts (except of course, the human
mind tends to forget things when the body starts to become normal again). Now,
of course, it’s coming back with a vengeance.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And it’s
rearing its ugly head up – and it is causing my mind to teeter precariously in
the brink of a vast chasm that I have no desire of looking head on. Because for
one thing, it threatens to rob me of my future and in that respect, it also
threatens to rob me of my dreams and my self-confidence.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am human
and I have a breaking point. Right now, I am dangerously close to that. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
For one
thing, I am in a foreign land – granted that it is a land that I wish to call
my own but I’m barely here for less than a year. And although I have friends
and relatives, who am I that they should worry about, right? This is one of the
moments when I realize that my choices, my being alone in particular, is coming
to haunt me. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And just
when I thought that I am already on my way to achieving my aspirations…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Life is damn
cruel…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And right
now, staring at my laptop and looking out the window where the rain is pouring,
I can’t help but spiral into the edges of despair. And the dull, hot throbbing
pain at the back of my thighs reminds me that things can still go worse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Already, my
mind is wondering about operations and such. Unemployment insurance… disability
benefits…shit! ….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But those
are possibilities. And suffice it to say, I am forcing myself to laugh at the
craziness that attempts to drown me. That or break down – I’m still strong
enough to break down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Or go back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Haha. Go
back, huh? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I can’t…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
For a lot of
reasons…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I’ll just
force myself to plod on. Pain after all can be tamed. I’ve regained, at least
for the moment, my ability to move – it just makes pain shoot out every time I
move my leg. Dr. House made it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I can too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And life is
still so beautiful…</div>
ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4526910800054144606.post-41916053117356777112011-10-05T18:42:00.001-06:002011-10-05T18:59:10.144-06:00Pain...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
When can a
man find himself?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And when I
say ‘himself’, I mean, his true self, one free from the usual false facades he
consciously puts over his face in his daily dealings with other… the real
person that exists in it’s purest unadulterated form free from his own
hypocrisy…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
No, you
cannot ask him to show it. He will lie even when he wants to be honest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And neither
can you spy on him and stumble upon his true nature. He also lies to himself
most of the time. We all lie to ourselves… and this is where Dr. House is right
– all of us are liars.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
So how then
do you find yourself?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Meditation?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Self-introspection?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not really
something as exotic as these methods. It is far simpler and goes into the most
primal of human feelings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And that
dear friends… is pain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Pain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
When you
double up in the middle of the night from the excruciating pain of inflamed
nerves or joint pain that cannot be treated with pain medication; when
everything that you do creates a wave of agony that cuts into even your soul;
when your movements are restricted by the sting of unbelievable pain that does
not ebb – then and there you find yourself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Pain
destroys the masks you wear to show you the bare naked truth about yourself. It
lets you meet yourself in its pure unadulterated form – and whether that form is
beautiful or twisted or damaged or sorrowful, it will allow you to come face to
face with it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Carl Jung
once said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“</i><span class="apple-style-span"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">There is no coming to consciousness without pain”.</span></i></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> In other words,
without pain, no one can be truly aware of himself.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">And pain can
take many forms. And these many forms of pain can show you many sides of
yourself that you would not otherwise see.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Emotional pain
removes the veil of innocence that we clothed ourselves from birth – it forcibly
makes us mature and grow up to face the world without the shroud of idealism
that once defined us as naïve children.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Physical pain
makes removes the hypocrisy of our lives and makes us face the harsh and bitter
image of our unadulterated and often unpleasant selves – making us face the
person we don’t want to meet in our lifetime.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Who are you when
everything is out the window?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Who are you when
your vision of yourself is thrown away?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Who are you when
you weigh death on one hand and pain on the other?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Who are you when
living is rendered as a mere option that can be discarded just like that?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Who are you when
the only thing that consumes your mind is the madness that pain brings?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Pain is the
cleanser that destroys everything that you believe about yourself – it forces
you to be honest… and this honesty is a madness that is different from person
to person. It peels away the layers that we have wrapped ourselves in to reveal
our true natures.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I wish that no
one will ever suffer the tragedy of facing this in their lifetime…but that is
mere wishful thinking of course.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Like the dull
throbbing pain that courses through my legs that make me double up after taking
twenty steps and robs me of my sleep. Like the pain that robs me of my strength
that tempts me with thoughts of despair that borders upon lunacy that makes me
think of things that no sane man should ever think about.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Life is
beautiful, yes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">But it is also
ugly.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Pain bridges
these two realities.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">And only when
both are embraced can one find himself.</span></span><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
ElStupendohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08431984511379375012noreply@blogger.com0