Saturday, February 26, 2005

While She Waits

Book in Hand: Half a Life by V.S. Naipaul
Song in Mind: ..and i'm not afraid to try it on my own... (just that phrase)
Word in Mouth: Huh!

Oh, I wait.
Life is about waiting.
For things to start. For things to end.
For things that may come true, or things that will prove false.
It's an endless waiting. And I guess what makes it matter is what you do while waiting.

Yesterday, I waited two hours while my Dad made up his mind to finally go to the hospital. I waited another two hours to get there. Another four hours before he was diagnosed and admitted to the hospital. I waited five hours before I could assure my heart that he's going to be okay and I should be going home. Spent another two excruciating hours commuting home. Then waited half an hour for sleep to come and for my dreams to overtake me so I could leave this earth where so many things turned miserable that day.

An image kept replaying in my mind. When I commuted home, I took a jeepney and got stuck in a traffic jam somewhere near SM Fairview. During the slow progression of cars, I watched a man push his karetela full of junk along Regalado Avenue. His skin was dark, like burnt umber. It was already 5 in the afternoon, but it was still sweltering hot. He was sweaty and quite dirty. He was bent over the cart handle as he pushed. But it was his eyes I remember the most. They were anguished. He had this terrible look as if in the middle of this excess sunlight, he could still only see the dark. He looked feverish with suffering.

And that pain took me. There are times that when you look at people, all you see is everyone struggling, drowning, trying to survive. Some flail about, some push reality aside, some are crushed underneath the pressure, and some are like that man who just keeps walking with almost a mindless automatic functioning. Only his eyes betray how hard it is for him.

Today, I woke up feeling better. The eyes of the dark man was already part of yesterday. And outside the color blue spilled over the sky, and the sunlight was soft on my face as it pulled me out of my dreaming. And I could only hope that man wakes up to see the same merciful sun, the same thoughtful breeze. Oh yeah, we all wait for the pain to end. We all wait for the joy to come. But while waiting for this too brief moments randomly dispersed in our lives, we could walk. We could sleep so we could dream. And then when we wake up, we could believe it's true that

With all its drudgery, sham and broken dreams, it still is a beautiful world. (desiderata)

Friday, February 25, 2005

Isn't our whole life just a Dreaming?Dreamcatcher by my favorite artist Stephanie Pui-Mun Law  Posted by Hello

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Early Wednesday Freak-Out

Book in Hand: Still Moving Pictures (I'm just shuffling through this book)
Song in Mind: Sadly, no song comes to mind.
Word in Mouth: Avert!

Aaahhh, isn't it a sad day when you realize you do not have a soundtrack in your head to get you through the next 24 hours? There's just this complete cacophony of words inside my brains and it's not half as nice as a melody or a last song syndrome (even if it is that silly Chocolate song). Maybe later my soul will find a song to sing.

Have been trying to sleep in the dorm room again, and again, something's been bugging me. So I just spent not more than 30 minutes trying to get a "last hirit" sleep but had to give up on it. You could only imagine how many times i've muttered the word "avert" just to keep those pesky spirits away. Sigh! And it's not even 8 a.m. Ghosts should be outlawed.

One of my girl best friends is asking me to watch a documentary movie on Thursday night in Megamall. The movie's called "Bunso" and it sounds interesting, but... I am super loaded on that day. I don't think I could leave the office early enough to reach the mall before 6:30. Just wondering how to tell her.

There's a book club meeting next Saturday and that's something to look forward to. More books! And Friday is a national holiday. EDSA Revolution in memoriam. I don't care what they say about Gloria. I'm still one of those juvenile not-quite-adults who rejoice everytime she declares a holiday. It always means a break from work, from all that is bugging me. Immature, yes. But utterly and completely sane. This type of work gets to every nook and cranny of your system, and sometimes, the soul just needs to get away.

I'm in desperate need of a Soul Vacation, and I don't mean in Korea.


If Life Could Stop at Sundays

(Posted this through email last Monday, but it didn't work, so I'm just manually posting it now)

Book in Hand: Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett (Thanks Norman for lending it to me!)
Song in My Head: Forgot the title but something about waiting all his life to cross a line or sumthin'
Word in Mouth: Grrrr....

I Know it sounds so juvenile, but I still can't get the hang of Mondays.

I still feel like fading away to a place where no one could get to me except myself and my daydreams. And the last thing I want to do right now is to whine about work, or to whine about life because I'm still pretty certain no one gets it easy on this earth. We all have our little trivial things that become the tiny devils of our lives and we all have major problems. But Mondays -- agh!

I'm glad it's over.

I'm now trying to resuscitate my blogging life which came to a standstill midway last year. Now, I've figured out a way to post my blogs from the e-mail and I chide myself for not figuring this feature out a long time ago. I could've posted so much --- or then again, maybe not.

Anyway, even if I wish that Life could stop at Sundays, it wouldn't be so much fun. there'd be no Saturday to look forward to if the world ended yesterday.

Monday, February 21, 2005