Earlier this evening, I couldn't believe how tired I was.  I was pooped. Bushed.  I could hardly keep my eyes open.  After boardwork at 6-10am, I went straight to a hosting gig that went from 2-6pm.  Then I was supposed to meet up with friends for dinner at 8pm, so I was hanging on to consciousness by a thread, as I drank some iced latte in Starbucks to augment my bloodstream with some much-needed caffeine.  Then, I heard a laugh than sounded pec … Read More

via Strange Fruit

Is it just me or is it really this freakin’ difficult to put one’s intent into writing?

Last May 30, during the recent storm in Guatemala, an entire street intersection, together with a clothing factory was swallowed by a terrifying gaping sinkhole: (Photo courtesy of the Guatemala Presidency, Luis Echeverria) via AP Sinkholes are caused when the rock underneath is soluble, like limestone for instance, and waters running underneath from rains or some experts say from sewers, is enough to create a cavern underneath.  And once the wei … Read More

via Strange Fruit

So now, I present to you, our only family picture. Why the only? Simply because all families are dysfunctional in some way; and mine just had it normal like everyone else. The pattern of marriages breaking up despite the vow of ever-after, eternity, lifetime commitments and all that fun (or not), has dramatically increased; similar to the surge of  multitudes of new accounts created on Facebook and Blogger daily.

I would like to thank my second grade teacher for having assigned this task to us, a family tree.  Had it not been for you, Ma’am, I would have lived on and regretted, never having the opportunity to see my family, snugged next to each other, scared smiling and faces plastered on one smooth and immortalized paper. It was the best and worst of times encapsulated by one click at the shutter. And yet, that single moment, would always be the one kept and held closest to where every beat starts to throb. Christmases past, the fighting, the word wars… they no longer matter.

“What does my smile look like now? Vivi wondered. Can you reclaim that free-girl smile, or is it like virginity- once you lose it, that’s it?”
— Rebecca Wells (Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood)

Bidam = sad story.

What an inspiration he is to me now.

You are my inspiration. I hope that memory could encapsulate all that I came to feel and realize through your eyes; and the very fact that someone as simply complex as you are—ever existed—in a reach away from my hands, but not my heart. Please help me remember all that you are to relate all that you were. ‘Coz literature will forever deny you the opportunity to hit the pages of stiff, hard-bound covers.

What should I write about? Why should I focus my time writing about it? And lastly, why should people care about what I write and think? I have become very numb and stale. A dear friend once told me that thinking too logically, writing way too much business letters and critiquing tons of resumes diminish creative thought. Maybe that’s something I’d buy and believe in at the time being. I’d rather convince myself in such a perspective than accept that I have lost faith in my pen.

Tell me, how do I compel myself to write again? It’s not even about the quality of the composition that I’m after. It’s not even appreciation or sympathy. I just want to write again. This huge black hole inside my heart has deteriorated my brain. I can’t believe that passivity is that potent a criminal. It can kill dreams and ambitions. This trance can’t be helped; but how I hope it’s just a phase.

Teach me to write again, if ever I learned how.

Is it about physicality—-the changes in their looks, who got better and who looked worse? Is it about the gadgets they have and the schools they went to? Is it about the fear that they’ve made something for themselves and I haven’t? Is it about their careers and achievements? Is it about the countries they’ve vacationed to? Is it about shame thinking that I would always be remembered as someone who shouldn’t be remembered? Is it about being that faceless shadow or being that wallflower who never got chosen at school dances? Is it about this useless, senseless and trivially hegemonic inferiority that I never really made a conscious effort to wrap my head around and banish from there?

I maybe trying to establish myself, building my career and widening horizons; but at some point, weaknesses must be entertained in the mind….not to dampen the spirit but to challenge it! Too many lessons to learn, too much responsibilities to shoulder and triumph over… Too many great fears to struggle with and KILL. Life is an abundance of experiences… and tomorrow’s always a good reason to reconcile with the self as we all try to strike a balance with others and the entire universe.

This hegemonic inferiority isn’t all of me.