It was past seven in the evening. Just after me and my thesis groupmates concluded our meeting with another plan of meeting the following day, I typed in a text messgae intended for Yani, my firstborn daughter:
Yani, available k b nw?=) Txt
*Repeatedly presses the C button* Erase, erase...she might be sleeping in her dorm na...I thought.
I typed in another one, something similar, and sent it to her while standing outside the Main Library doorway. To my pleasant surprise she texted back immediately. We then met down at the lobby of her dorm and sat down on the plush brown couch to talk after a very long time of not talking about anything but studies and casual hellos. Then we proceeded to the orange house dun sa Antonio Street and had dinner.
I miss Yani a lot, especially nowadays that we have so much work at hand. I miss the time when we could just nag each other to play O2 Jam at Nitro on a lazy late afternoon, sometimes until the early evening before my mother came to fetch me. I miss the way we suddenly eat dinner together out of a whim and lots of coincidence, if there is such a thing, hehehe.
She is someone I can be honest with. When I stand in front of her, I discard my social masks and forget to put them on for a while...she simply makes me feel that I don't need to be in a masquerade when I am around her. She is certainly a rare find. I just pray that she feels the same when she is in front of me. She is someone I certainly wouldn't like to let go.
Later in the evening we met up with KR and Syrille talking on the nursing pav. As desired and promised I walked her back to the steps of her dorm with a satisfied smile. :) I thank God for the blessing of such fun moments...
Anni is accused of harrassment and rape
Just this Thursday I got late for my first class in Literature. Of course, for fear that my great and admired prof Sir Hibek (who is old enough to be my grandfather) might call my attention, I just made my entrance to the class after his, only to find him standing outside the classroom door, talking to some of my classmates.
Thinking as always that I am not easily noticed among a group of people, I casually strolled down the hall to the other door of the classroom, until...
Sir Hibek: Penny...(as in 'appendix' wahahaha)
*Me, not looking*
Sir Hibek: Penny... (again?!)
*Me freezing and turning around-- imagine chibi anime*
Sir Hibek: *with arms folded against his chest, feigning arrogance* So, ginaganyan mo na lang ang Literature class ko.
Me: *strides to his right with my other classmates looking* Sir...hindi...I'm sorry...*grips his right arm with both hands*
Sir Hibek: *shrugs off my hands* Ay, don't touch me.
Me: *removes hands momentarily* Sir...noo...*hugs him tightly*
Sir: *gets shocked, along with my classmates who laugh later on* Aaaaaa, sinira mo ang virginity ko...aaaaa!
*Sister Vinoya, our sociology prof, comes out of the classroom next to ours in her active sisterly garb*
Sir Hibek: *feigning harrassed woman's cry for help* Sister, sister! Harrassment! Harrassment! Rape! Rape!
*Sister turns around to watch and laughs along*
Me: *gets enough of the laughter with my classmates, finally breaks the hug* But, sir...it's going to break my heart if you don't forgive me...
Sir Hibek: But you broke my heart by not attending my class... *followed with laughter by my classmates outside*
OK, fine...seriously I consider it my sad loss whenever I miss his classes because he's such a fun teacher with a lot of sense in his words. But it's such a dream come true to have hugged him because I'd really like him as an uncle or something closer than a teacher. If not for the age gap or the demand for distance and professionalism I'd like to go the extreme and be friends with him. Even just by being my prof, he has given me more than he thinks. Through making me laugh in his lectures, coining my nickname post-op ("Penny"), casually telling me to be strong, empathizing with my frustrations as a writer...he has inspired me to laugh at my storms in life. Aside from having the passion and talent of a writer, he's also an interesting character to explore...I believe what he's offering his students to see in him is just the tip of the ice berg...there's more, which is why I am intrigued and very much interested to have long conversations with him.
But then, that's only gonna happen in my dreams. Perhaps, when the gift of the perfect moment comes...
Thinking as always that I am not easily noticed among a group of people, I casually strolled down the hall to the other door of the classroom, until...
Sir Hibek: Penny...(as in 'appendix' wahahaha)
*Me, not looking*
Sir Hibek: Penny... (again?!)
*Me freezing and turning around-- imagine chibi anime*
Sir Hibek: *with arms folded against his chest, feigning arrogance* So, ginaganyan mo na lang ang Literature class ko.
Me: *strides to his right with my other classmates looking* Sir...hindi...I'm sorry...*grips his right arm with both hands*
Sir Hibek: *shrugs off my hands* Ay, don't touch me.
Me: *removes hands momentarily* Sir...noo...*hugs him tightly*
Sir: *gets shocked, along with my classmates who laugh later on* Aaaaaa, sinira mo ang virginity ko...aaaaa!
*Sister Vinoya, our sociology prof, comes out of the classroom next to ours in her active sisterly garb*
Sir Hibek: *feigning harrassed woman's cry for help* Sister, sister! Harrassment! Harrassment! Rape! Rape!
*Sister turns around to watch and laughs along*
Me: *gets enough of the laughter with my classmates, finally breaks the hug* But, sir...it's going to break my heart if you don't forgive me...
Sir Hibek: But you broke my heart by not attending my class... *followed with laughter by my classmates outside*
OK, fine...seriously I consider it my sad loss whenever I miss his classes because he's such a fun teacher with a lot of sense in his words. But it's such a dream come true to have hugged him because I'd really like him as an uncle or something closer than a teacher. If not for the age gap or the demand for distance and professionalism I'd like to go the extreme and be friends with him. Even just by being my prof, he has given me more than he thinks. Through making me laugh in his lectures, coining my nickname post-op ("Penny"), casually telling me to be strong, empathizing with my frustrations as a writer...he has inspired me to laugh at my storms in life. Aside from having the passion and talent of a writer, he's also an interesting character to explore...I believe what he's offering his students to see in him is just the tip of the ice berg...there's more, which is why I am intrigued and very much interested to have long conversations with him.
But then, that's only gonna happen in my dreams. Perhaps, when the gift of the perfect moment comes...
The Last Straw (and more to come)
Yesterday I did something I'd never imagine doing until it happened.
I retailated.
For the first time in my whole life I shouted at my brother for slapping me right on the face just before my first Friday class in literature. He did it for a very good reason. I did something so immoral and so unforgivable that he needed to take it out on my cheek.
I simply left the car keys in the car and locked the doors by accident.
*shrugs and averts eyes* Oh, I'm sooo immoral...
Of course I'm being ironic about it. I say lying, cheating and stealing would have been a better reason for him to just hit me. Why can't he just stop hitting me?! Come on, if you can't afford a punching bag, don't use me as a substitute, you insensitive jerk!!! This decade-old domestic violence at home just has to stop.
Usually when similar incidents happen between us, I'd just sit back and let him walk off. But yesterday was the last straw. Not that it was the most painful physical assault he brought on me (he was worse last year, and the years before)...but because of this experience I had a chance to compare the intensity of physical attack versus verbal abuse.
With the experience, I therefore conclude that verbal abuse hurts me ten times more, especially when he knew very well where to hit me- that is, on the most vulnerable aspect of my total persona.
...
Here's an excerpt of my incident report--
Brother:*slaps me* Utak mo, nilalagay mo na naman sa puwet mo! 'tang ina...
Me: *surge of anger, points a finger at him* Huwag mo kong gagalawin!
*momentary pause as he drives*
Brother: Isulat mo lahat ng katangahan mo sa buhay mo...sigurado, makakagawa ka ng libro...gawin mo ha, para di mo na uulitin lahat ng katangahan mo sa buhay mo!
...
Of course a tear fell...and another...and another, but of course I had to swallow the fear and just walk into the class with my invisible 'I'm-such-a-happy-student-who-just-got-late' mask on.
Bshit talaga. I never thought I'd ever come to this point that I could fight fire with fire...it's futile, and yet...I resort to it.
Pride? Yes. But I have to get rid of it. Somehow...
But I'm still not talking to him. As of the moment he does not exist in my list of significant others.
*closes eyes*
Anni, don't let him make you a monster...
I retailated.
For the first time in my whole life I shouted at my brother for slapping me right on the face just before my first Friday class in literature. He did it for a very good reason. I did something so immoral and so unforgivable that he needed to take it out on my cheek.
I simply left the car keys in the car and locked the doors by accident.
*shrugs and averts eyes* Oh, I'm sooo immoral...
Of course I'm being ironic about it. I say lying, cheating and stealing would have been a better reason for him to just hit me. Why can't he just stop hitting me?! Come on, if you can't afford a punching bag, don't use me as a substitute, you insensitive jerk!!! This decade-old domestic violence at home just has to stop.
Usually when similar incidents happen between us, I'd just sit back and let him walk off. But yesterday was the last straw. Not that it was the most painful physical assault he brought on me (he was worse last year, and the years before)...but because of this experience I had a chance to compare the intensity of physical attack versus verbal abuse.
With the experience, I therefore conclude that verbal abuse hurts me ten times more, especially when he knew very well where to hit me- that is, on the most vulnerable aspect of my total persona.
...
Here's an excerpt of my incident report--
Brother:*slaps me* Utak mo, nilalagay mo na naman sa puwet mo! 'tang ina...
Me: *surge of anger, points a finger at him* Huwag mo kong gagalawin!
*momentary pause as he drives*
Brother: Isulat mo lahat ng katangahan mo sa buhay mo...sigurado, makakagawa ka ng libro...gawin mo ha, para di mo na uulitin lahat ng katangahan mo sa buhay mo!
...
Of course a tear fell...and another...and another, but of course I had to swallow the fear and just walk into the class with my invisible 'I'm-such-a-happy-student-who-just-got-late' mask on.
Bshit talaga. I never thought I'd ever come to this point that I could fight fire with fire...it's futile, and yet...I resort to it.
Pride? Yes. But I have to get rid of it. Somehow...
But I'm still not talking to him. As of the moment he does not exist in my list of significant others.
*closes eyes*
Anni, don't let him make you a monster...
Where is the @#$$!!! book??!!
Just a few moments ago nastress ako...somehow almost dizzy upon realizing that the Philippine Gay Literature thesis book I had been browsing through with gusto is nowhere to be found. I almost fell down the foot support (it's supposed to be on the top shelf!!!)with such a discovery.
*stressfully runs a hand through my hair*
Grrr. I hate anticlimaxes. I had been looking forward to seeing that book again since last night. Aaaaa. It's for the thesis we're working on...now how do I tell my groupmates about it later? More importantly, how do I solve this dilemma?! I should have taken it out of the building when I had the chance to (which is called borrowing, not stealing, unless....
OK, OK, I'm not going to entertain the idea...give yourself a break, anni (~as suggested by tadz yesterday). But how?! Aaaaaaaaa...
Yes, yes. I'm stressed at the moment. Now trying to relieve it therapeutically...through this blog which I have not accessed for a while. Hmph.
Who else whould have the mind to take it after me but the other group working on the same thesis as we are working on?
Man, this sucks.
*stressfully runs a hand through my hair*
Grrr. I hate anticlimaxes. I had been looking forward to seeing that book again since last night. Aaaaa. It's for the thesis we're working on...now how do I tell my groupmates about it later? More importantly, how do I solve this dilemma?! I should have taken it out of the building when I had the chance to (which is called borrowing, not stealing, unless....
OK, OK, I'm not going to entertain the idea...give yourself a break, anni (~as suggested by tadz yesterday). But how?! Aaaaaaaaa...
Yes, yes. I'm stressed at the moment. Now trying to relieve it therapeutically...through this blog which I have not accessed for a while. Hmph.
Who else whould have the mind to take it after me but the other group working on the same thesis as we are working on?
Man, this sucks.
Vent out
Chickens do vent. Peaches can't.
I don't want to lose control, so habang nasa i-can-handle-it level pa ko (with the shaking smile that I'm trying to hold like an idiot)I'm going to intentionally vent here in my space where no one can hold me or disrupt me from my immaturity.
Whatever.
Obviously, my purpose for posting this here alone (and not on my recently frequented multiply) is to keep away from judgmental eyes who have no business with me whatsoever. I hate to say it but although multiply is really good, nothing compares to my old home here in my main blog where I established my real territory.
So! What is the bitchin' of the peach all about?
It's been a while. The preliminaries have just ended yesterday. Maybe that's a factor to consider, alright, but I wonder why it's so hard for the people around me to love me as I am. I find myself asking this question of love over and over again in my life, and although sometimes I find my answers...I just go back asking again, feeling rather unsatisfied.
Dissatisfaction? Well, that's quite a word. By nature we are all...yearning for more. The lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eyes which so successfully keeps us away from the love of God...man, it's taking over me. The darkness looms with shadows of doubt reaching for my neck like long amrs...and I can't seem to do anything but to choke in its merciless grip.
And with this entanglement, I try to scream and shout and sing to the world...a cry for help which everyone just ignores...I try to move my legs, and yet...the darkness has ensnared me so to just accept this and stay this way.
I thought my mother could understand now...I already became part of the medical team as agreed, in accordance to her view of a fruitful job for me. She did not force it on my brothers- she COULD NOT force it on them, not even my brother. And yet, she did well on feeding me something I try so hard to spit out, and yet, with just her eagle eyes, I am warned to just swallow everything in silent choking.
And if only she could strain to hear my voice through the walls of my room where I have locked myself in... "See me as I am. I want to be an artist. I want to play the guitar. I am a writer. Your daughter wants you to understand that she also needs to express herself in such ways, aside from holding syringes and vials which you so dearly want her to hold, yet it gets tiring, you know..."
My mother and my brother...the inconsistency of love just disappoints me more and more. Everything about them makes me feel inferior. I feel inferior enough with this fragile upbringing- why can't they just back off and be satisfied with the frail being that I have become? They shoo me off habitually just because 'sinisira ko ang araw nila (when they see my face)'. They tell me I'm stupid when I don't know something that they can do naturally. While both of them could just go anywhere they wanted to, anytime...I can't.
Just this morning they argued upon who's gonna take me to school. I wanted to cry so much in my room, but I took it out on Rey (the guitar) instead of wasting liquid pearls on my shirt. And when suddenly my mother agreed to take me to school, my brother spoke, 'Siguraduhin mo lang na may gagawin ka nga. Nakakaperwisio ka.' and 'Naglalandi ka lang naman diyan.'
I laugh, I laugh...I think it's my leather coating...kumakapal na, nagmamanhind na yata ako. Ewan. Buwisit lang talaga. Buwisit kasi hindi nila matanggap kung sino ako. Buwisit kasi hindi nila ako magawang tanggapin at bigyang halaga ang mga sinasabi ko, mga opniyon ko sa bahay. At buwisit talaga kasi alam kong mahal ko sila at nagagalit ako sa kanila.
By habit, tumatalikod na lang ako sa katotohanan. Ibinababad ang sarili sa trabaho, nagbabakasakaling tuluyan nang malunod at hindi na matagpuan...naghahanap ng aliw sa iba't ibang pasyente at bagay...nagkukulong sa silid...dinadaan sa paligo...natutulog at nagbabakasakaling hindi na muling magising...o kung magising man...magigising sa masarap na kasinungalingan na may nagmamalasakit at may nagmamahal nang tunay sa kanila.
Kahapon nga pala nakapag-usap kami ng aking pinakamatalik na kaibigang si Jonreph. At sa isang makasaysayang pag-uusap sa ilalim ng kumot ng mga bituin at malamig na simoy ng hanging nadaan sa ulan...nagbago ang lahat para sa amin. Naramdaman ko ang pagsisimula ng mas malalim na pagkakakilala sa isa't isa...bilang totoong magkaibigan na sa aking pananaw ay hindi na muling mapapantayan ng kahit sino man sa mundo. Ngunit hindi ito nangyari nang walang sakripisyo...isang matinding pagtawid sa baga ang aming dapat daanan, at ito'y hindi madali.
At pagkalipas ng pagtawid...kahit nauunawaan ko ang buong katotohanan ng mga pangyayari, hindi ko maiwasang masdama ang mga pasong natamo ko sa pangangahas na tumawid sa baga sa kagustuhang maging mas matibay ang samahan namin. Iniisip ko ngayong, kahit dapat naiintindihan ko na ang lahat...bakit ngayon lang naisakatuparan ito? Masakit pa ang mga paso...ngunit tama, marahil ay ito talaga ang oras naming mas makilala pa ang isa't isa.
Ang aking pagmamahal...isa pa yan. Nagmahal na ba nang tunay si peach? Sa mga panahong ito, hindi ko maiwasang magtanong sa sarili ko kung sapat na ba ang mga ginawa ko upang mapanatiling panatag ang loob ng aking mga minamahal sa buhay...mga kaibigan, mga kapamilya...mga kasintahan...may ilang mga pagbabago, bukod pa sa aming pagpapakilalang muli ni Jrep.
May mga kaibigan akong noo'y akala ko'y maaasahan kong mamahalin ako nang totoo...at ngayong may nangyayari na, wala nang ginawa kung hindi magpakaligaya sa aking kabiguan ('Masaya lang akong malaman na hindi ka pala perpekto...laugh laugh.'). May mga kaibigan akong hindi ko inasahang poprotekta sa kin, ngunit...ayun, sinalo nila ang mga kapraso ng kasiraan ko sa buhay. (Salamat.) May ilan pang...nalalayo, naiiba ang landas...na kahit anong habol ko sa kanila...lagi akong naiiwang nagigising sa katotohanan na wala nang kahawak ang kamay kong nangiginig.
Segway...
May nagmamahal na nagsasabing...'I love you.' Binibigkas ang mga bawal na salita sa isang bawal na pag-ibig. Ang maromansang babae...nangangarap, naniniwala, umaasang totoo nga ang pangakong 'i love you.' Ngunit ang nagmamatigas at mas mautak na lalaki ay nagsasabing ito ay isang lantarang gamitan lamang...sumasagot lamang sa tawag ng laman. So what defines love then? Is it holding on for as long as you can, or is it letting go of something you think you want the most now?
Kung hindi man sapat ang aking nagawa para sa pagmamahal, ako nga ang dapat sisihin sa lahat ng mga taong hindi ako kayang mahalin.
Marahil tama nga ang laging sinasabi ng nanay ko na, 'Wala ka nang ginawang tama.'
May ganoon palang tao ano...siguro nga ako ang mali sa mundong ginagalawan ko. Hahaha.
So I'm having conflicted thoughts.
Don't say that.
No, it's true.
Ano ba?
Ako nga ay isang komplikadong nilalang. Hindi madaling unawain.
Ang tanong ko naman...may mangangahas bang magmahal nang tunay sa akin?
May nangahas na ba?
I don't want to lose control, so habang nasa i-can-handle-it level pa ko (with the shaking smile that I'm trying to hold like an idiot)I'm going to intentionally vent here in my space where no one can hold me or disrupt me from my immaturity.
Whatever.
Obviously, my purpose for posting this here alone (and not on my recently frequented multiply) is to keep away from judgmental eyes who have no business with me whatsoever. I hate to say it but although multiply is really good, nothing compares to my old home here in my main blog where I established my real territory.
So! What is the bitchin' of the peach all about?
It's been a while. The preliminaries have just ended yesterday. Maybe that's a factor to consider, alright, but I wonder why it's so hard for the people around me to love me as I am. I find myself asking this question of love over and over again in my life, and although sometimes I find my answers...I just go back asking again, feeling rather unsatisfied.
Dissatisfaction? Well, that's quite a word. By nature we are all...yearning for more. The lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eyes which so successfully keeps us away from the love of God...man, it's taking over me. The darkness looms with shadows of doubt reaching for my neck like long amrs...and I can't seem to do anything but to choke in its merciless grip.
And with this entanglement, I try to scream and shout and sing to the world...a cry for help which everyone just ignores...I try to move my legs, and yet...the darkness has ensnared me so to just accept this and stay this way.
I thought my mother could understand now...I already became part of the medical team as agreed, in accordance to her view of a fruitful job for me. She did not force it on my brothers- she COULD NOT force it on them, not even my brother. And yet, she did well on feeding me something I try so hard to spit out, and yet, with just her eagle eyes, I am warned to just swallow everything in silent choking.
And if only she could strain to hear my voice through the walls of my room where I have locked myself in... "See me as I am. I want to be an artist. I want to play the guitar. I am a writer. Your daughter wants you to understand that she also needs to express herself in such ways, aside from holding syringes and vials which you so dearly want her to hold, yet it gets tiring, you know..."
My mother and my brother...the inconsistency of love just disappoints me more and more. Everything about them makes me feel inferior. I feel inferior enough with this fragile upbringing- why can't they just back off and be satisfied with the frail being that I have become? They shoo me off habitually just because 'sinisira ko ang araw nila (when they see my face)'. They tell me I'm stupid when I don't know something that they can do naturally. While both of them could just go anywhere they wanted to, anytime...I can't.
Just this morning they argued upon who's gonna take me to school. I wanted to cry so much in my room, but I took it out on Rey (the guitar) instead of wasting liquid pearls on my shirt. And when suddenly my mother agreed to take me to school, my brother spoke, 'Siguraduhin mo lang na may gagawin ka nga. Nakakaperwisio ka.' and 'Naglalandi ka lang naman diyan.'
I laugh, I laugh...I think it's my leather coating...kumakapal na, nagmamanhind na yata ako. Ewan. Buwisit lang talaga. Buwisit kasi hindi nila matanggap kung sino ako. Buwisit kasi hindi nila ako magawang tanggapin at bigyang halaga ang mga sinasabi ko, mga opniyon ko sa bahay. At buwisit talaga kasi alam kong mahal ko sila at nagagalit ako sa kanila.
By habit, tumatalikod na lang ako sa katotohanan. Ibinababad ang sarili sa trabaho, nagbabakasakaling tuluyan nang malunod at hindi na matagpuan...naghahanap ng aliw sa iba't ibang pasyente at bagay...nagkukulong sa silid...dinadaan sa paligo...natutulog at nagbabakasakaling hindi na muling magising...o kung magising man...magigising sa masarap na kasinungalingan na may nagmamalasakit at may nagmamahal nang tunay sa kanila.
Kahapon nga pala nakapag-usap kami ng aking pinakamatalik na kaibigang si Jonreph. At sa isang makasaysayang pag-uusap sa ilalim ng kumot ng mga bituin at malamig na simoy ng hanging nadaan sa ulan...nagbago ang lahat para sa amin. Naramdaman ko ang pagsisimula ng mas malalim na pagkakakilala sa isa't isa...bilang totoong magkaibigan na sa aking pananaw ay hindi na muling mapapantayan ng kahit sino man sa mundo. Ngunit hindi ito nangyari nang walang sakripisyo...isang matinding pagtawid sa baga ang aming dapat daanan, at ito'y hindi madali.
At pagkalipas ng pagtawid...kahit nauunawaan ko ang buong katotohanan ng mga pangyayari, hindi ko maiwasang masdama ang mga pasong natamo ko sa pangangahas na tumawid sa baga sa kagustuhang maging mas matibay ang samahan namin. Iniisip ko ngayong, kahit dapat naiintindihan ko na ang lahat...bakit ngayon lang naisakatuparan ito? Masakit pa ang mga paso...ngunit tama, marahil ay ito talaga ang oras naming mas makilala pa ang isa't isa.
Ang aking pagmamahal...isa pa yan. Nagmahal na ba nang tunay si peach? Sa mga panahong ito, hindi ko maiwasang magtanong sa sarili ko kung sapat na ba ang mga ginawa ko upang mapanatiling panatag ang loob ng aking mga minamahal sa buhay...mga kaibigan, mga kapamilya...mga kasintahan...may ilang mga pagbabago, bukod pa sa aming pagpapakilalang muli ni Jrep.
May mga kaibigan akong noo'y akala ko'y maaasahan kong mamahalin ako nang totoo...at ngayong may nangyayari na, wala nang ginawa kung hindi magpakaligaya sa aking kabiguan ('Masaya lang akong malaman na hindi ka pala perpekto...laugh laugh.'). May mga kaibigan akong hindi ko inasahang poprotekta sa kin, ngunit...ayun, sinalo nila ang mga kapraso ng kasiraan ko sa buhay. (Salamat.) May ilan pang...nalalayo, naiiba ang landas...na kahit anong habol ko sa kanila...lagi akong naiiwang nagigising sa katotohanan na wala nang kahawak ang kamay kong nangiginig.
Segway...
May nagmamahal na nagsasabing...'I love you.' Binibigkas ang mga bawal na salita sa isang bawal na pag-ibig. Ang maromansang babae...nangangarap, naniniwala, umaasang totoo nga ang pangakong 'i love you.' Ngunit ang nagmamatigas at mas mautak na lalaki ay nagsasabing ito ay isang lantarang gamitan lamang...sumasagot lamang sa tawag ng laman. So what defines love then? Is it holding on for as long as you can, or is it letting go of something you think you want the most now?
Kung hindi man sapat ang aking nagawa para sa pagmamahal, ako nga ang dapat sisihin sa lahat ng mga taong hindi ako kayang mahalin.
Marahil tama nga ang laging sinasabi ng nanay ko na, 'Wala ka nang ginawang tama.'
May ganoon palang tao ano...siguro nga ako ang mali sa mundong ginagalawan ko. Hahaha.
So I'm having conflicted thoughts.
Don't say that.
No, it's true.
Ano ba?
Ako nga ay isang komplikadong nilalang. Hindi madaling unawain.
Ang tanong ko naman...may mangangahas bang magmahal nang tunay sa akin?
May nangahas na ba?
Metaphorical Entry
There's a 5'4'' nursing student who realized she wanted a Littman stethoscope. She saw the product on display one afternoon, hohuuummmmm..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...................
Dissatisfaction fills me like a radioisotope...
...and somehow lights me up for me to see what's missing.
I hate it that I'm wasting time with matters less important than my purpose of life which is to please God and not all darned people.
Wala, maybe I'm just on the verge of a burnout. Or maybe I AM burnt out with all the issues of work and career...even the issue of trust and friendship. I don't know.
Anyway, just today I got my day off- of course, it's supposed to be a day of rest for me, it's Sunday and I get to fix the kitchen, spend time with my brothers, sleep lots, watch a dose of House, stat...but there is no full satisfaction there after all that. I am primarily affected by spiritual starvation, and my internal clock won't stop screaming for me to talk to God and set things straight.
I laugh. I smile. I even dance. But I'm not happy, not without a highly maintained relationship with the Lord.
~~~IF YOU 'RE NOT OPEN-MINDED ABOUT SPIRITUAL STUFF, MIGHT AS WELL GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE YOU TELL ME LIKEWISE~~~THANKS.
To the rest of you who claim you're open-minded...
I recall how just two days ago I was sitting inside the UST church for the mass for St. Thomas Aquinas. Just as I was whispering to Ahia Jo how I resented being there and my desire to go home, the announcer prompted everyone to kneel. They began to chant the rosary prayer, the sorrowful mysteries in particular.
As I was made to kneel, I saw how it all became a cultist fest as they chanted over and over the prayers, which really creeped me out. Having enough of it, I sat down instead and watched them before these lifeless images on display. It's been a long time since I've had this experience, being surrounded by people saying things over and over again as if they were...hypnotized.
And I wonder...do they not think that God feels jealous with all the attention they are giving to Mary and all the other saints like Thomas Aquinas, in this case? I've been in a Catholic school for 16 years, enough for me to have spent a great deal of time consciously and subconsciously mastering prayers and rituals, even attending morning masses and praying before and after each class. And I've wondered in my young mind before why God doesn't get all the 'attention' or even enough of it from the Catholics (which he should!). If it's not St. Jude, it's Mary. If it's not St. Arnold, it's St. Joseph they pray to. And so on.
Anyway, while I was sitting back in the church with the rest of the community, an idea hit me. Last time I checked, 'prayer' is...a communication between God and man, open 24/7, free of charge.
If so, then why 'pray' to anyone else?
We can only get as much as nothing with saving too much clutter in the back yard. Taking unnecessary stuff out of the lot gives us good space- freedom to dedicate ourselves to serving the Lord whom we can praise, worship...talk to and know more through the means of prayer, which he himself made possible through salvation in Christ.
I say we rethink the nature of our spiritual-enhancing habits and focus on what really matters, which is our own relationship with God. This is not an anti-Christ movement, or even anti-Catholic (99% of my friends are Catholic). This isn't even about religion- I don't have one. I am just saying (even to myself) that as Christians we should strive to live up to the term 'Christian' and turn our hopes to Christ, and Christ alone.
Now having said this I have to bother myself more than ever and fix my silent treatment with God. *silent scream* Yes, he doesn't need me for anything. But I need him for everything.
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