Liv in a Life Well-Lived

You know those people who seem able to pull colorful threads of stories and weave them into one mighty tight plot? I so badly want to be one of them. But my problem isn’t the ideas. My problem is the making of the actual story. I seem to have lost the patience to write what I know. Recently though, with the advent of a little toddler named Gabriel who insists on stories every time he visits, I seem to be getting the groove back. Of course, his stories are fairy-winged little threads, so far from what I want to write. But the spontaneity is there and I’m realizing that what I really lacked was the ability to excite myself enough to plow through the many yarns squiggling inside my head. I still want to push through with my long-delayed project of a collection of short stories on sleeping and waking. Maybe one of these days, I’ll just surprise myself. : )

Just two days to go and I'd officially be a quarter-lifer... I'm... not sad. No, I'm not being a hypocrite. I'm not sad because the sophist in me tells me I'm learning so many things which I know is helping me become more equipped in dealing with real life. It really blows sometimes how alone I feel now, but some blessings come along to remind me that I will never truly be lonely. I rushed Mummy to the ER last Saturday, and she'd been in the ICU since Sunday. I've only gone home once to take a bath last Monday and I now stink to the high heavens. I've got the darkest eyebags this side of North Caloocan. The Health Provider's coverage is running unto depletion. No more Daddy to come swishing in to rescue her little big princess. And yet, the heavens are intervening to assist us in our needs. Little signs affirm our belief that we are not being ignored by the armies of heaven. What an un-boring life it is right now. Now Livvie, when you were younger a

While passing by Philcoa on my way home this afternoon, I saw a young boy hugging his father tight while waiting for a jeepney. I had this wild urge to grab the boy’s hand and to pull him away. I wanted to shake him really hard and to scream my warning to him. “They die, kid. They die and it will break your heart!” Then I’d run away and leave him wondering which circus I escaped from.

I miss sleeping around... Hehe, but before you get any " green " ideas, that's just my attention-grabbing statement for saying I miss traveling. Really, I miss being in different localities, meeting different people, eating local delicacies. Shoot, I hope you've taken the green vibe off your minds now---- I can just see you guys snickering and saying: oh yeah, meeting " people " and " eating local delicacies "... rock on... I just am missing travel. These days, I feel the urge to go far, far away and my bore-at of a job locks me down in the office. Dunno. Hay. Good night anyway. P.S. Somebody got Mo Twister on his ranting mood today about hypocrisy of media reporters --- again. So stubborn and yet so brave. If I'm married to this guy, I would probably end up irrevocably insane but not before having the most exhilirating, thrilling ride of my life. Crash and burn, baby. 8-)

Don't talk to me about my birthday, please. And I'm quite serious about it. If the sky falls down on that Saturday, I couldn't care less. I just get tired thinking I might actually have 30 more years of this life. Today, that depresses me. So shoot me if you want, I might even thank you for it.

I know. Think me crazy. I wanted to be the logical type of person. I really tried. But it seems the call of the extraordinary imagination was a bit more louder than that of rigid mental discipline. As a young child visited by black cats in the middle of the night, unexplicable wake-up jolts at exactly 2:30 a.m. followed by eerie flute music that happened at least thrice a week for two years, women in black appearing in windows, apparitions projected on doors and walls, angels rescuing me from falling off a cliff or the stairs or riding an ill-fated bus, it is very hard to dismiss the supernatural just like that. If I start talking of OBEs (or Out-of-Body Experiences) you are free to close this window and move on to other blogs which could present to you sane stuff like, oh, let's see... an intelligent discussion on the noble and inert gases found on the periodic table of elements. :) I was relatively young when I had my first one (about 13 years old). My family and I visited that P

I thought vulnerability after a life-shocking event was a myth. Ha. I’m learning a lot nowadays. If there’s such a thing as a rebound guy after broken relationships, could there be a rebound crush after the loss of someone too dear? Is it because I lost a father figure (literally), I’m trying to fill in that void left by his absence with another guy? Of course, given my long-history of utter failure in commencing relationships, all I have right now is this indefatigable infatuation with who I believe is the first guy who made an impression on me after my father’s death. This guy’s not new. He’d been a peripheral in my life. I even kind of referred to him in the past (see entry: Hands). I hate that my exploratory crush on him has come around again, now thrice as big as before. I hate it. I hate feeling this helpless in getting his attention. I hate the uncontrollability of the situation. I know that there’s nothing I can do to make him look at me that way and I hate having to stay in th

yeah, yeah, he looks like my son. :) i don't mind. cute naman si gabe eh. talaga namang kamukha ng pinagkakamalan. teehee.. :)

Book in Hand: Masterpieces of Fantasy by T. Weiss and M. Hickman Song in Mind: Angels by Robbie Williams Okay! Let's talk about ghosts today. I used to believe that all ghosts are scary. BUT --- as it turns out, it's not, especially if you love the person who comes to visit. I love to think my Daddy's at peace now, but I guess since 40 days haven't passed yet, they say his soul is still on earth waiting for the judgement whether he goes to purgatory or heaven.. (I vote heaven though both places daw are peaceful. I mean, who the heck really knows?). I thought my gift would fail me now that a loved one has passed away. Guess not. I keep track of the occassions that I felt Daddy around the house and this is my accounting of it: 1. for the first 3 days after he died, i sensed cold spots around the house: a) his room, b) the upstairs landing, c) the upstairs bathroom. Once, I even felt it in the funeral house we held the wake in, and it's because I called him to me. My s

hey, you got to smile too once in a while. And besides, I found a copy of Masterpieces of Fantasy and Adventures of Kavalier and Clay last night in SM Manila's Booksale . The first book costs about P550 in Fully Booked (Sm North The Block) but I bought it for P140. Michael Chabon's Kavalier and Clay is about P750 in Powerbooks but I bought it for < gasp !> P110. Teeeheee, not even death can stop me from glutting our house with books. Sorry, Daddy. I know you said we don't have space in the house anymore. Don't worry though, I'm going to hold a major garage sale sometime this year and that's gonna open up space at home. :) Sigh! Yeah, that's life.

"Di mahanap sa lupa ang pag-asa... Nakikiusap sa buwan... himala... Kasalanan bang humingi ako sa langit ng... isang himala..." - Rivermaya hindi ko kinaya. nagcommute ako papasok sa office, isang bagay na sa huling dako ng buhay ni Daddy ay halos araw-araw naming ginawa. sabi ko na nga ba mag-taxi na lang muna ako. At least doon, pwede ako maging zombie at magpababa ng diretso sa tapat ng pbsp. hindi dadaan sa letran, o sa lawton, o dun sa mga statuwa ng mga tribu sa tapat ng Intramuros wall. pinagtatawanan namin lagi ni daddy yung mga puwit nilang nakausli. ang hirap ding isipin na mamayang gabi, hindi siya nakatayo dun sa lugar niya sa bungad ng letran naghihintay sa akin para makauwi na kami. hindi ngayong gabi, hindi na kahit kailan. parang tunog ang drama drama ko. ayaw ko naman mag-senti eh. nakakabaliw kasing kalungkutan ang nararamdaman ko tuwing may maalala ako. minsan, maganda pang wala akong malay sa mundo. wala rin akong mararamdaman. bakit ganun? parang kayang-k

Book in Hand: In the Night Garden by C. Valente Song in Mind: The Journey by L. Salonga I... am not really sure what to write about. But my instincts are screaming that I must write something. No sense in abandoning this comfort just because the world swung off-kilter. Logic says I should even be doing it more now. Unsteady for now... but I must churl out the words, each bitter bit must find release, blossom into something light after having been imprisoned somewhere dark. I'm slowly realizing that strength isn't something physical that pushes you on. The courage starts with that seed of belief that maybe, the world doesn't have to end. Maybe, there's enough fiber to hold me together and I don't have to break into a million little pieces. I will miss my Daddy, that's for sure. But HE had always hoped he brought up a good girl, a strong girl, a daughter who will not bulk at the thought of continuing his legacy. I HOPE I'm that girl. I wasn't able to give