Liv in a Life Well-Lived

If my grief has become a tiring topic, I am the first to ask for forgiveness. But please bear with me as I try to assimilate the new realities into my life. We'll never know, we might just learn something together. IN MY BEDROOM I haven't slept in my room for months. Not since the day Daddy died. I think I have never forgiven myself for still being asleep that morning he fainted while cooking breakfast. A part of me still hates myself for being fitfully slumbering, instead of helping out with the morning meal. Maybe if I was awake I could've cooked the blasted extra Spam and he would've had something to eat. He wouldn't have gone into hypoglycemic shock. My laziness has costed me a father. Useless to blame myself now, I know. But my own ghosts has kept me from sleeping in my room. If you peek in today, you'd find books, clothes scattered on the bed. Things to distract rather than a body at rest visible on its sheet. It was a relief, in some ways, to have slept i

It's not like we're the ones inititiating the pig out sessions... :) Twice now, we've indulged ourselves to free-wheeling chinese food dig-ins within the same week. First time we ate at one of those Hap Chan/g restos in West Ave right after Mummy's funeral -- because it seems on her side of the family, bawal daw ang umuwi diretso sa bahay matapos ang libing . So we took it as our chance to celebrate one of our aunt's birthday and one of our uncles offered to foot the bill. Not that Hap Chan/g is a fine cuisine place, but it wasn't bad after all. I love shrimp, so I adored every crunchy bit of the deep-fried prawns smothered with chili sauce. And the lemon chicken was scrumptious. There was sweet and sour lapu-lapu , pata tim with my favorite kuapaw (think siopao na walang palaman---yum!) and another shrimp dish with vegetables in it. Hay, busog talaga. But it turned out, that doesn't compare to what we had to go through last night. It was torture by sheer d

I tried going to the office today, just to ease myself back into the whole routine. I think I had a good day seeing I didn't break down (yet) or bit anybody's head off. :) A part of me wants to feel guilty for taking almost 7 days off after my mom's death. Another part is telling me that I needed to honor the pleading of my heart and that I needed those days to putter around . I had been taking my body for granted the last few weeks, I know that. I slept three weeks straight in a hospital lobby, ate nothing but junk, deliberately forgot sleep. But a sick section of my brain is telling me that if I didn't do that, I can never forgive myself if anything bad happened to my mom. And now that the big Bad I was so scared of did happen after all, I'm just too exhausted to feel guilty. Have you ever heard of such pathetic psychology? Mum vs. Dad An uncle of mine raised an issue about how my sister and I love our parents. He said, he knew that we loved our Dad much more tha

This song makes me cry every time I hear it... Artist: Annie Lennox Lyrics Song: Into the West Lyrics (Lord of the Rings Soundtrack : Return of the King) Lay down Your sweet and weary head Night is falling You have come to journey's end Sleep now And dream of the ones who came before They are calling From across a distant shore Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see All of your fears will pass away Safe in my arms You're only sleeping What can you see On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea A pale moon rises The ships have come to carry you home And all will turn To silver glass A light on the water All Souls pass Hope fades Into the world of night Through shadows falling Out of memory and time Don't say We have come now to the end White shores are calling You and I will meet again And you'll be here in my arms Just sleeping Chorus And all will turn To silver glass A light on the water Grey ships pass Into the

Both Mummy and Daddy loved Gary Valenciano. They always praised his energy and spirit when he's performing. They loved his songs as well. I can't help but agree --- he does write good Christian music. Mummy was still alive when I first heard this song and I knew God was preparing me for the inevitable even then. No words are left now to be spoken When all my promises are broken And all excuses I have used in justifying My actions move me so much closer to the fire But now I know Seems i've lost my soul Make me and take me Can you find me in this world I've chosen and never let me go Hold me and mold me And if there's no other way To make me whole Go ahead and break me Then remake me Hold it on I won't give up Coz I know you wont give up On me Grow weary of my ways pretending Showing i'm okay when I am hurting But now I know Time to find my soul Make me and take me Can you find me in this world I've chosen and never let me go Hold me and mold me And if

I asked myself if I am ready to write this piece. The answer is that I probably never will be. But maybe being ready for it was never the problem. Maybe this is where I can start threshing out my emotions and move on. When I was in high school, I made a pact with God. I begged him to take me first before any of my parents die. I told him I will not be able to stand the pain and that it would shatter me. It was a one-sided pact, of course. Deep inside, I knew I was asking for something selfish and improbable. But the nightmare of losing one's parents had always been the pressure point of all my carefully constructed defenses. I lose them, I lose myself. Ten years later, the worst does happen. In the span of two months, I had to go through the cycle of grieving twice. With Daddy, it was a bit more sudden and the shock was severe. I felt numb from the neck down. The only thing which proved to me I haven't died yet is the fact that my head is a jumble of thoughts and the tears won&

Breath-stopping. Like the last conscious moment of a person drowning. That' s how it felt when God decided to give my family one fell swoop. Friends keep telling me to never question God. He works in ways too mysterious for us to comprehend. I tell you, it's maddening to hold on to faith when you don't understand. To keep believing when you cannot even begin to see why it had to happen to you. To a non-believer, it would look foolish. But my parents' legacy had been strong faith above everything, and I do not intend to fail them by disintegrating into hatred and confusion when what I should be doing is stepping forward to the frontlines which I have inherited. I believe my Mummy had a hole in her soul when Daddy died. And with her heart in tatters, it would have been a miserable life. I know she tried to hold on for my sister and me. But... God had better plans for her. No more sorrow. No more misery. No more hardships. She had been God' good soldier, just like my D

I am posting this call for your recommendations. I am in dire need of a third job, one which I can work evenings for. No green ideas now. :) I don't think the world's oldest profession would even think once to hire me. I am currently looking for the following opportunities (NCR, Philippines): * Night shifts in call centers (inbound preferred) * Graveyard shifts in coffee shops (barista) * English tutorials for non-English speakers (i.e. Koreans, Thai, etc.) * Home-based tutoring for kinder 1 to grade 6 pupils any subject. * Ghost writing essays and researches for high school & college students. My strength is that I work well with people -- I believe I've got a friendly demeanor and patience to get lessons across. UP-educated, graduated with honors, excellent grasp of the English language, solid background on Psychology, both parents academicians... I'll stop here and just send my resume if you guys can recommend anything. :) Limiting factor is that I am keeping my

Book in Hand: Twilight by Stephenie Meyer ( thanks for the gift, Mariel...) Song in Mind: This single line from a 70's song that goes, "far, far away..." Life is a little surreal at the moment. It is a viable defense mechanism to remove yourself from a distressing situation. Since I cannot physically remove what is hurting me at the moment, I let my brain do the excising of what I can control --- emotions. Without it I can numb myself from further pain. At least, I think it works that way. It was easy to find strength at first. Because it was readily there. Because it was abundant and overt. But after the novelty of being strong has worn off and the necessity to be strong hasn't, I find myself flailing. Now, I believe what I have to do is to find strength in hidden places. Under crevices, in hard-to-reach niches, in places that never knew sunlight, within and without.

Liv was swallowed by the Night. There were no other words to explain the hell she went through last night. She felt as if black tongues of despair licked her face and limbs and she was halfway through the mouth of darkness; it threatened to swallow her whole. She was saved by the unknowing hand of her sister who, as she slept, held on to her. Liv listened to her even breathing and felt the warmth of her hand barely clasping her increasingly numb fingers. The barrel in her chest was too heavy. It was too much. Liv's mouth opened and out came a wail -- a keening so loud that it cannot be heard by human ears. The sound/non-sound was not meant to be heard on earth anyhow. It was a distress signal for the armies of heaven-- the angels and the saints who watch with keen interest our little human affairs. 'I am so near broken. I am nothing -- having nothing, almost hoping for nothing.' It was the darkest, blackest night of her soul and what saved her was just the miracle of mornin

I've been reading a series of essays in this book entitled "One World, Many Cultures." It's interesting. In a span of two nights, I believe I got more information about how other people from other parts of the world perceive their world. Want a sampler? Initiation of a Massai Warrior The Massai people are a semi-nomadic tribe living in Kenya and parts of Tanzania in Africa. Just like in the Philippines, they believe in circumcision. But whereas Filipinos claim its for hygienic purposes, the Massai circumcise their boys as a rite of passage to manhood. What struck me the most is how much ceremony it takes for them to circumcise one child. It will take three days, and the circumcisee will have to undergo the rituals of being insulted, frightened and finally, circumcised without anesthesia. A circumcisee must not whimper or show pain or fear. Their honor as a man and of their family depend on it. They believe that circumcision should be painful for it symbolizes the brea

*groan* not again... What's with all these people running around asking for flower prices and chocolates and whatnot? And why the heck should one watch Hugh Grant's movie "Music and Lyrics" at P300 per person when you can watch it for P81 per lovestruck fool? I haven't even recovered from the Christmas rush and here comes another commercialized season out to suck the money from the masses. You may say I don't know what I'm talking about because I am just reciting the litany of the dateless geek goddess, but I miss the days when people make their own St. Valentine's Day Card. There was something amusing about all those lace and glitters that tends to stick to your fingers. I miss being 10 years old. I miss believing that Michael J. Fox was the greatest, cutest man on earth. That the perfect Valentine's Day would mean your teacher giving out little heart pins to the neatest, the quitest or the brightest. I miss the prolificness of those days when I w

I am navigating a strange country. It doesn't matter if I have walked these streets countless times before. The echo of my footsteps are different. The buildings I see and the lay of the land before me feels unfamiliar. Even our favourite places seems to hold a forbidding glow: the tree-lined Acad Oval in UP, the paved pathways of Lawton, the Countrystyle Donuts stall in SM Fairview -- they warn me not to get too close or I will only find tears. No wonder I have become an alien to the familiar. I am seeing it with a Daddy-shaped hole in my soul.

There's no denying it. I have entered the portal to the adult world and there's no turning back. The air is thick with the scent of confusion, and the very atmosphere feels like an unguent I have to slosh through. Ah, the wonders of growing up! Barely a week into my 25th year, I am now in heavy debt, completely unsure of what the future holds despite the careful planning I made when I was still a bravado-fed novice. Not having a decent night's sleep seems to be the in-thing anyway. So, I'm just going with the flow. No wonder people are dying younger every year. I mean, not to whine, but, this is crap. And yet again, it makes me teary-eyed to think that people are not as unfeeling as they are made out to be. When I have every right to feel alone, despairing and hopeless, friends and family pour out their support to keep the starboard straight. I am financially in debt, yes, but the warmth I received from people overflows. So, at 25, I am poor but overwhelmingly rich. The