to speak or not to speak...

last December 2005, i finished reading "Possession" by A.S. Byatt. it amazed me how familiar the last couple of pages seemed to me, esp. with regard to Roland's feelings: of being peripheral, a watcher.

i have felt that way on some occasions with friends who seem to have more connection or in common with each other than with myself. and at times, i have neither the will not the enthusiasm to engage in the conversations wholeheartedly. i have often felt compelled to remain in my silence and sit and watch and listen to all the others exchange views about everything they could possibly think. not that i didn't have any opinions nor do i think their views are superior to mine. i do sometimes wanted to explain how such a situation like a lovers' quarrel would mean to me, but i find myself unable to extricate myself from the self-imposed silence.

***

once, a friend finally implored me to say something about another friend's plight in the arena of love, which i do consider myself to have had some personal experience, whether pleasant, heartbreaking or otherwise, and when i finally spoke, they were aghast with my bluntness, with the directness of speech, without frivolities, or the sympathies that was usually accorded to the supposedly aggrieved party. whereas i was speaking only the truth as i saw it then, i fear i may have made myself look boastful or proud.

it happened at a time when i was of the opinion that petty dramas between men and women render themselves as useless lamentations that will eventually have no real conclusion, except the one true thing that both parties understood their situation from different perspectives, each according to their own circumstance and state of mind.

no one has a monopoly of the truth in a relationship. each relationship is as unique as a snowflake or a sparkle of raindrop on a leaf or a flower in a meadow. although one could find repeating patterns with which to guide you, in the end, each of us is alone in the reckoning of our decisions or indecisions.

the memory of that moment kinda reminded me of a john mayer song ("my stupid mouth").


My stupid mouth
Has got me in trouble
I said too much again
To a date over dinner yesterday
And I could see
She was offended

I'm never speaking up again
It only hurts me
I'd rather be a mystery
Than she desert me

Oh I'm never speaking up again
Starting now

on becoming a writer

i remember writing this essay on my old journal (which was part of the lot that got thrown in the dump!) about my dream of becoming a writer. in those days, i was scared shit of showing any of my work to anyone. i wrote poems, essays, short stories. not that they were Pulitzer Prize material but i think i really short-changed myself then for not even trying out for the school paper. because of my well-placed, albeit unfounded, fear of rejection, i missed out on so many opportunities of getting read by millions (!) or worse, getting published.

and now, i'm in the middle of my life (hopefully) and i say to my Censors (those nasty thoughts that kept me cowering with fear):

"Get the Hell out of my way!"

i guess, i'm really thankful for this blogging phenomenon (thanks to my real good friend Heinz for paving the way), like the Penman said: "...writers write to be read." and although i dream the dream of getting my work published someday, for now, i write here, i get the thoughts out in the open, i expose myself (literarily, of course), i leave my mark.

***
For tips on writing, the Penman suggested these sights:

http://www.oonyeoh.squarespace.com/column-writing-tips/
http://watkins.gospelcom.net/manu.htm

Bahay Mo Ba'to?

Last Tuesday night, I was doing some ironing (hehe...still in my domestic goddess mode, then) and I decided to turn on the tv. This show was on at GMA7. And before I knew it, I was laughing so hard my insides were hurting so bad. It was really late and the whole household was asleep. I really wanted to laugh out real loud but I was afraid the neighbors might wonder if there were hyenas lurking in our village. ;)

The jokes and the situations weren't really anything new (there's a gay guy oggling for a cute straight guy's attention, a dumb-blonde oggling for the gay's affection, two sisters whose penchant for talking in English literally can make your blood run dry (as in duduguin kayo!) and of course, two siblings fighting over a house (and some other stuffs).

I can't really re-tell the jokes; I'm really like Marlin (from Finding Nemo) when it comes to telling jokes, you just have to stay up late one Tuesday night to find out for yourself.

But, it must be the timing. In that episode, I think the actors really hit their marks perfectly. It was a great way to end an, otherwise, ho-hum boring day in the life of an ordinary person like me.

what will you create?

I was watching "The Planet" on Net 25 (actually, I was working on the computer and it just so happens that the tv was on, too.) and saw them feature "Zeum", a non-profit multimedia arts and technology museum in the San Francisco Bay Area.

One of Zeum's programs is Clay Animation: where the students learn about stop-motion animation, make their own clay characters and then produce their own movie using multi-media tools. Wow, that's really cool, isn't it? Kids could also create their own News Broadcast, a Digital Quilt, and a Music Video!

perspective

"We imagine that we remember things as they are, while in fact all we carry into the future are fragments which reconstruct a wholly illusory past. The first death we witness will always be a murmur of voices down a corridor and a clock falling silent in the darkened room, the end of love is forever two cigarettes in a saucer and a white door closing." - John Banville, "Birchwood"

I realize that I really don't see everyone totally, at all. When I try to remember a moment, it is always a fragment of a picture: a wrinkle in a corner of the eye, a chicken pox mark on the upper lip, a bruise in the hand. It's as if the lens of my thoughts are always closing in, zeroing in on a detail that may have no significance at all in the grand scheme of things.

I could not, try as I might, remember the face.

why does every f___ poem mention the ocean?

Now, now, don't panic, that really didn't come from me. It's a line from "Half-Life" by Erica Jong. It was kinda liberating to read that, but I still couldn't bear to write the f-word here, lest, someday my dear kids might read this.

But I have been wondering about the same thing, why does the ocean get mentioned so often in poems? At least, in mine, they do. In another blog, I actually wrote that I feel an affinity to the sea, although, for the life of me, I could barely swim in a pool.

What is it about the sea or the ocean that draws us in?

"The ocean disentangles the netted mind." - John O'Donohue

"Down here, by the sea, there is a special quality to the silence of the night." - John Banville

domestic goddess hiatus

i haven't been posting anything on this blog for the past two months, which prompted my avid readers (two to be exact...hahaha) to ask what's up with me nowadays?

a lot, actually. but it's mostly domestic stuff. haven't got any househelp lately. so i've been swamped with chores and errands and family obligations. at the end of the day, i'm really beat. i can't stay up long enough even to watch "jewel in the palace". and still the house is MESS!!!!

but today God finally answered my prayer...thank you...i hope this one stays with us for the long haul...