Lingon

Madalas, binabalewala natin yung mga taong sobrang nagmamahal sa atin.
Meron tayong paniniwala na dahil sobra nga ang pagmamahal nila para sa atin, kahit ano man ang mangyari hindi sila mawawala.
Na mananatili lang sila sa ating tabi.
Na hindi nila tayo iiwan.

Alam natin na sa ating paglalakad, nandyan sila sa ating likuran.
Na kung lilingunin man tayo, nandyan pa rin sila. Nakasunod, nakaalalay, nakasuporta.

Dahil sa paniniwalang iyon, madalang na madalang na ang ginagawa nating paglingon.
Hindi natin nakikita ang mga pinagdadaanan nila.
Hindi natin alam na paminsan minsan, humihiling sila na lumingon tayo at ngumiti.
Hindi natin nararamdaman na minsan, gusto nilang sumabay sa paglalakad.
Hindi natin nakikita na minsan, nadadapa sila at nasusugatan.
Hindi natin naririnig na minsan, nasasaktan sila at umiiyak.
Hindi natin naiintindihan na minsan, sila naman ang may kailangan ng pag-alalay at pag-suporta.

Habol tayo ng habol sa napakaraming pagkakataon.
Inuubos natin ang oras natin sa mga bagay na iniisip natin na siyang mahalaga.
At yung mga nagmamahal sa atin, hindi natin sila mabigyan ng kahit kaunting panahon.
Hindi sila nabibigyan kahit kaunting pagpapahalaga.
Nasa ating isip na marami pang panahon para sa kanila, marami pang pagkakataon na darating.
Hindi naman sila mawawala eh. Nandyan lang sila pag dumating na ang panahong iyon, ang pagkakataong iyon.

Minsan lang, baka dahil sa masyado tayong abala sa iba pang napakaraming bagay,
hindi natin napapansin, na sobrang layo na pala tayo sa kanila. Na hindi na nila tayo maabot.
Na naiwan na pala sila.

Sinasabi natin palagi na marami tayong problema, na marami tayong dapat gawin, na marami tayong dapat ayusin. At kailangang mauna ang lahat ng iyon. At sana maintindihan nila tayo kung bakit wala tayong panahon. Madalas, sinasabi natin na pagod tayo at mainit ang ulo. At sa paghiling natin na intindihin nila ang kalagayan natin, hindi natin napapansin na pagod din pala sila.

Hindi natin napansin na napagod na silang umamot ng kaunting panahon.
Na naipon na ang maraming sakit ng damdamin. Na hindi na ganun kalaki ang pagmamahal dahil iisa lang and daloy nito. Puro palabas at walang bumabalik para punan ang pagkukulang.

Walang TAMAng panahon o pagkakataon para suklian natin ang pagmamahal na binibigay sa atin. Hindi naman kailangan na bitiwan natin ang lahat ng ibang mga bagay para magkaroon tayo ng sapat na oras. Minsan, hindi lang natin alam, pero hindi nila kailangan na itigil natin ang ating buhay para sa kanila. Gusto lang nila ng simpleng ngiti, munting yakap, at saglit na haplos.
Para sa kanila sapat na ito upang malaman nila na pinahahalagahan natin ang kanilang bahagi sa ating buhay.

Minsan, kailangan lang nating matutong lumingon.

Ang Ballpen Bow

Ang buhay, para lang ballpen yan..

Iba-iba ang kulay
Iba-iba ang bigat
Iba-iba ang itinatagal


Ang bawat titik na isinulat ng ballpen mo ay simbolo ng bawat pangyayaring tumatatak sa papel ng ating pagkatao. Madalas, nag-iiwan din ng marka ang ating ballpen sa kanvas ng iba. At minsan, ng mundo.


Iba-iba rin ang paraan ng pagkasulat ng ating ballpen. Merong pahaba, patayo, pabilog, at sa maraming pagkakataon, parang kinahig ng manok. Pero ang lahat ay isang pahayag kung saan tayo ang magsisimula, kung saan natin gagamitin at kung saan ang maabot ng ating ballpen.


Wala ito sa halaga o presyo ng ating ballpen. Hindi ito kinakailangang Staedtler o Gtech, hindi rin mahalaga kung Pilot o Panda o Lotus. Hindi sukatan ang pangharap na hitsura para masabi ang kahalagahan ng ating ballpen. Mas mahalaga ang bawat katagang nahabi sa isang makabuluhang salaysay. Mas mahalaga ang bawat daloy ng pagkakataon na huhubog sa ating katauhan.

Paminsan-minsan, nagbo-blot din ang ballpen. Nagiging malabo ang daloy ng mga pagkakataon, nagiging mahirap, at minsan nakakaperwisyo pa nga. Lalo na kung nakaupo ka sa pinakamahalagang pagsusulit ng iyong buhay at nagbo-blot ang ballpen mo.

Merong mga taong pipiliing itapon na ang ballpeng ito. Sa maling paniniwalang wala na itong halaga. Marahil dahil sa galit at kawalan ng pag-asa.

Pero mayroon pa ring hindi susuko. Gagawa at gagawa ng paraan.
Pinapainitan ang ballpen para mas madaling dumaloy ang tinta. Inaalog alog, pinipitik pitik.
Ito ay sa paniniwalang bukas susulat muli ng maganda ang ballpeng ito.
At madalas, nasa lakas lang yan ng paniniwala.

Parang ang buhay natin. Minsan, naiipit tayo at hindi makalabas. Merong mga desisyon na ayaw nating harapin. Mga desisyong susukat sa ating estado at sa paniniwala natin sa ating pagkatao.
Nagtatago tayo at nagsusumiksik sa maliit na tubong iyon at ayaw sumulat.
Sa maraming pagkakataon, kailangan lang nating maalog-alog.

Meron ding pangyayari na magtatae ang ballpen. At magkakalat ito. Sa kamay, sa sangkaterbang papel, sa sahig, sa kamay ng iba, sa papel ng iba. At hindi katulad ng pagbo-blot, hindi ito pwedeng pitik-pitikin dahil siguradong magkakalat ka lalo.

Minsan, mas mabuti pa na hayaan na lang munang maubos ang sobrang tinta. Wala ng dahilan pa para iyakan ang nasayang na. Hindi na ito maibabalik pa. Siguruhin lang natin na lilinisin natin ang ating kalat.

Dumadating sa ating buhay na gumagawa tayo ng mga bagay na kahit alam nating wala sa tamang landas ay patuloy nating ginagawa. Maraming nasasaktan. Marami ang nadadamay.
Magsisi man tayo hindi na maibabalik ang mga nasayang na panahon. Hindi na maibabalik ang mga luha at sakit. Kailangan na lang nating linisin ang ating kalat. At magsimula ulit.

Meron mang kaunting dungis ang ating malaking kanbas, nasa kagandahan pa rin ng bagong mga kataga, salaysay at larawan tayo huhusgahan.

Dilemma

Sometimes late at night I fear, there's more hate in me than the love I feel.
Lurking behind the emotions of anger.
I could not see why but I despise myself for feeding on the thought that this is all a lie.
A betrayal of my own words.
I am both surprised and frightened of the amount of hatred that sleeps within my dreams.
And it is eating me whole.
Consumes me.
I cannot accept in me that I am loving you less than I should. Should? Now it even sounds obligatory to me.
I cannot place it.
My yearning for freedom is burning. Almost suffocating.
No, not from the commitment, but from the hate and the anger.
There is so much pain in my eyes I cannot see pass the shield of enraged coldness.
There is so much bitterness in my heart I cannot penetrate the walls of selfish pride.
I love you and I hate you in its most ironic way.
Like it keeps me alive and kills me at the same time.
Their symphony befriends me in my waking hours.
Embraces me in my slumber.

It is in me.

Let it happen.

I surrender.

Stranded

The semicon business is now in its downturn.
There is very, very low man-power requirement and most of us here are in a state of dreadful doubt of losing our jobs.

Some already chose to leave the company to look for better opportunities abroad.

And some who already spent the last twenty years running the rat race decided to retire and spend their remaining limbs resting on some old wooden rocking chair near the beach.

I can do neither.

First, I have a binding contract to work for this company for the next 3-4 years. This is because of the scholarship program they have given me when I was in college. Resigning would mean I need to pay for all they have spent for my education. Sadly, I dont have that kind of money.

Second, I am sending my kids to school. My hubby always wanted me to stay home to be the loving housewife he dreams about. I would gladly take the challenge. But that means he has to support us, food, shelter education, all the like. BUT, he doesn't earn enough for that. He earns well, but not enough for growing children.

I need this job. I know I do. What I do not know is if the JOB needs me. The last few weeks have been very dull. Our work load is low as well and I've been spending most of my office hours doing nothing but reading blogs, surfing the net and waiting for my email to update its folders. (Not that I am against it.)

But not being productive may mean that I have no worth in the company, which, in this time of crisis, would mean I could be laid off. And no, I cannot accept that.

I am afraid of what is to come. I've been trying to convince myself that the company cannot take this job away from me because of the contract. That they could not waste all those money they spent for me. That they need the intellectual property I have.

But the horrifying truth is that THEY ACTUALLY CAN, THEY ACTUALLY COULD, and THEY ACTUALLY DONT.

What's worse with this is that I dont know where to go from here. This was not part of the long-term plan I made. I cannot leave on my own but if they DO lay me off I will come face-to-face with the real world unprepared. And I cannot accept that either.

I know I have to do something. But what is there to do?

I love flowers

Oooohhh.. I love flowers.. Especially orchids..
But I like tulips as well. I started liking them the first time
when hubby gave it to me on our first month together back in college.
These are in my grandmother's garden.

Miranda Residence. Palauig, Zambales

This is our home in Palauig, Zambales. My children are staying here while I work in Laguna. I only see them once a month.





At least they have a very wide play ground.

Lets talk about that Dull work

I like my job.

I dont necessarily love it but we're friends.

I am currently working in a semiconductor company as a Test Hardware Engineer. (whoooh)
And I would gladly trade it to be a full-time housewife and mother. (And I could do some cross-stitching on my free time). Since I cant be neither in the next 3 years, lets talk about that obsession some other time.

So work.

This is work.

This is engineering multi-tasking, analytical, clerical, boring work.
Ok. Its not at all boring. Its quite challenging actually.
Trying to do everything simultaneously with extreme amount of pressure because everything is due within the day. (And may God save the world because its already 2:55pm.)
But then, I dont want to discuss the technicality of my work here.
That's for my manager to comprehend.

What we need to talk about here is when you feel you dont want to do it anymore.

Work is trapped in your office room. It is in your PC or your laptop. It is in the equipment you use. It is in the four corners of your office building. When you walk out of that glass door after 5:30 pm. You stop working. You start living.

My hubby came home last night feeling all wasted. He asked me whether a time will come when he can retire. He's 26. He hardly slept that night.

This morning I asked him if he was feeling better, he told me he doesnt want to work anymore.

Of course I felt the same way for the last 2 and a half years. I still do. But I have a son to send to school. He needs new shoes because the last one I bought, which was expensive enough for my budget because it promised a long, sturdy lifetime, were already worn out. I needed to pay for the costume he needs to wear because he's participating in the school program. I have a daughter who loves fruits. I have 2 sisters who ask for monthly allowances. I have a cousin I send through college. and I have a hubby who occasionally requests I cook his favorite dish.

I need the job because I need the money. I can quit it anytime I want. (well, after the contract, that is) What I mean is, I could stop working. I could give it up. I could have my lifelong dream of being loving housewife. I could finally learn doing bonsai plants. But for me, it would mean I have to give them up too. My son has to stop school. And my daughter would not be able to eat apples if its not christmas and my sisters and cousin have to work their way through college.

No, money cannot buy happiness. But it could buy the remote control helicopter my son wants for his birthday. My wallet is lighter by a few hundred pesos but my heart is heavier with love and happiness when I see him with his dada playing under the sun.

However, work has its bad days as it has good. And sometimes the bad are reason enough to stop loving your work. Or liking it, for that matter. Because you feel stranded. Your work is going nowhere and you feel you are too. There will be failures, there are bad memos, there are For-Improvement notices, missed deadlines, money loss, and hurt ego. But one thing I learned in this lifetime, you go where you choose to. Everybody gets a chance to play. If you let all the downfalls get into you. It will. Nobody is a failure until he thinks he is. Get up. There's no better way than standing up from your fall and not falling on the same spot again.

Work to live, not live to work. Let work worry you for 8 hours all during company time, leave all the worries behind when its time to go home. Do not let it take over your life. As I say, there's so much more to life than the big project you're handling right now. Go home, take you kids to their favorite fastfood. Eat fries. Watch a feel-good movie with your wife. Pray. Sleep well.

When you wake up. There is work. But it will be better. Because you feel better for yourself.

You and your work is a compromise. Its like a relationship. You take care of it and it takes care of you. And you get a fair share of the bargain.

Stained Glass

I will tell you about that Thursday.

History.

Anything can happen. Good things happen. Bad things happen. You can meet good people. You meet bad. You go up. Or you go down. There is good karma and there is bad karma. Good things happen almost everyday. One good thing at a time.

All bad things happen on thursdays.

I dont know when I started noticing it. But it does.

When I was in highschool, break-ups happen on thursdays. It was a thursday when I missed the one-day school interaction because I was sick. I received the news I will graduate salutatorian instead of the much-coveted-and-expected-already-prepared-valedictory-speech 1st place on a thursday.

When I was in college, I get surprise-I-dont-know-anything-havent-slept-due-to-design tests on thursdays. I got my class card with my first ever 3.0 grade on a thursday. I get stuck in traffic during thursdays. Always.

But this is not about my other hundred misfits during thursday. This is about THAT thursday.

Where to start?

My attendance for the last three years had been very bad. I accumulated a number of not-so-pleasing memos because of my tardiness. Both my immediate supervisor and manager have been monitoring my monthly attendance.

I travel for 2.5 hours from our home to work. My trip consists of a 3-minute walk, 5-minute tricycle ride, 15-minute bus ride, 25-minute train ride and a 90-minute bus ride. That's minus the technical failures of the LRT, and the heavy traffic at SLEX due to road widening projects of the so-called government.

I now have an average of 5 tardy days a month. Ive been worse.

So I've been trying really hard to keep my attendance at a good light. Ive suceeded so far.

Then thursday. I am late. Not a good way to start the morning.

That day, my manager sent me a summary of my tardiness for last month. Not a good sight either.

What happened next?

I went through my daily routine, e-mails, follow-ups, file reviews, reading blogs in between, reports, the usual. And then...

A week ago we decided to organize a "savings group" every payday, every member of the group is required to give a decided amount of money and one member is to receive the sum. This will continue until every one in the group received the same amount of money. It was like saving for the rainy days.

The problem begins when everyone claims his rainy day will come at one chosen date. And everyone wanted to receive the lump sum first. or second, at the least.. which is entirely, absolutely IMPOSSIBLE!

So to make things fair, I raffled the numbers. Each one will pick a number from the box to represent the date of his "salary". Easier said than done. Because as soon as the person picked up his number, seeing it was not what he hoped for, all the babbles and the rabbles began again. I feel so completely harassed. As if I jinxed them so they would receive the last number or something.

After everyone had his pick, "some" (but of course it is still just someone) were still not contented and were still making a fuss about all it, threatening to withdraw his share, blathering about not wanting to be a part of the group anymore. What an @*$h0l3.

What could be worse?

A few months ago, somebody left a message in my friendster inbox asking me about my father. The first thing I noticed is that he's carrying my surname. So he got my interest. He gave the name of my father and asked if that person is my father. And so I answered yes. Being more conclusive than I should, I asked him if we have the same father.

He answered a yes.

Last tuesday, my father sent me a very weird text message, he told me he wanted to ask me something. And that he wanted to thank me beforehand for the question. I was supposed to meet them that day because it was my mother's birthday but I wasn't able to come and we didn't had the chance to talk about it.

Yesterday, it just occurred to me. I texted my dad and asked him if he was going to ask me about that somebody from friendster.

He answered a yes.

He told me he didnt where to begin. Or how to start explaining. He told me there would be the right place and time for that.

I told him he didnt need to explain anything to me. I'm old enough to know how the real world works.

I told him there's no easy way. No matter how he does it, it will still hurt. We dont know how the rest of the family will react to this but its something he has to face. Alone.

I told him there will never be the right place nor the right time for this stuff. It doesnt matter where, or when, delaying the fact doesnt change it. They will feel pain. Bigtime. He needs to tell it now, or soon, waiting for another 24 years will not help him. It will not help us either. I hope my mom's busy enough she wont miss reading my blog. This is something she should not know. Not from me anyway.

Well. Life sucks sometimes. Shit happens.

Life Sucks. Yay, Its a Thursday

I hate thursdays.

Bad things happen on thursdays.

Its thursday. I am late.

I get stuck in traffic; I get rain-soaked; I missed the last train trip on thursdays.

I get a bad memo from my boss; I lost deals; I get sick on thursdays.

I get shouted at, I get bullied, I almost get fired on thursdays.

I think I was born on a thursday.

Its my Anniversary

Yesterday was our 6th year anniversary. It was absolutely wonderful.

I gave hubby 6 different gifts as a symbol of each year we had together.

(As he was opening the gifts, we was murmuring about not going to receive any gifts for Christmas. How can he think of such things? I already finished my christmas giftlist (hmm..ok, not quite, but I will..very soon) and I have planned it all out.)

So this is the gift list:

1. Digital Clock

He already told me (well, kind of hinted through a very far from the topic conversation) that he wanted a digital clock because the wall clock isnt working anymore (no, its not the battery, I already changed it but still wont work) and I found it to be a very good symbol of our first year together.

We were still in college during our first year and like all other early relationships, we are so glued together. We wanted to spend every minute together, that is if we do not have any classes, which sums up to only 3 hours a day (1 hour in the morning before class, 1 during lunch break and 1 during the trip home) all because our class schedules complicate things a bit. So time has been very important to us. We rarely go out during the weekends because he's a sleep freak. Its either he's at school or he's sleeping. Nothing in between. Normally we stay up late if we wanted to have more time.

2. A coin bank

Our second year was when we moved in together (see full story below). We were still both in college (he's graduating and I'm in my last year). We were financially zero. He's sending me to school, he's buying my vitamins, he needs to pay for monthly check-ups and we need to eat. He found work eventually after graduation but his salary was not enough to secure all our financial needs. I remember he only buys two packs of biscuits for lunch because I needed a much decent meal. (I will forever be thankful for this.) We try to save as much as we can for the coming baby (again, full story below). Now, I hope we save enough to buy ourselves a home of our own.

3. Picture Mosaic of Dada and Lexi

Lexi is our little girl. The news of pregancy arrived September, three months before his graduation and I was in my last year in college (yes, some colleges do not make a fuss about pregnant students.)

This really breaks my heart but I'll tell you about it. We actually agreed on not having the baby yet. (Lexi, if in case you read about this when you grow up, I am very, very sorry. You know I love you very much.) We are both "still" financially supported by our parents, he doesnt have work yet, I still have to finish school and I already have Jam (This is one long story, so lets talk about it some other time). We were practically, emotionally, and financially not prepared. But then my parents accidentally caught me having those pregancy morning sickness and they knew. (Of course they would, I dont know how but parents usually know about these things but they do, did not even ask me if I have an upset stomache or something. shrugzs?!) And they decided to hand me over..hehehe. But I was really happy that my hubby stood up for me. He took us (me and the baby) in. And he took the responsibility over me. whew!?

We moved in together at his parents house around December (I think.. it could have been earlier, I am sorry I cannot remember the exact date). He started looking for work right after graduation (Thank you very much baby!) and I went back to school. Lexi was born June 5. And she's an angel. I know he loves her very much. And she loves him as well. I was so glad that the picture I chose for the mosaic was his favorite photo of them together. Good thing I followed my instincts.

4. Two bracelet-type rosary with our birthstones.

This is our bumpiest year ever. We had more misunderstandings than we can handle. We almost always fight. We lost trust, we doubt, we were both paranoid. I admit this is my fault. and although he already forgave me for my mistakes, I know I will make up for this for the rest of our lives together.

We learned that revenge will only make things worse. We struggled to hold the relationship together. There were times when giving up was the only sensible thing to do but we tried. Because we know that behind all the anger, and the fear of hurt we still love each other. And that is reason worthy to hold on.

5. An 8-in-1 screw driver set with torch

Aside from the fact that he loves hardwares, I needed something to represent fixing things. Something we did during the year. We fixed things up. We tried to correct our mistakes, made up for our shortcomings. We tried to listen before we judge. We started trusting again. We calmly talked about it, what went wrong and tried to come up with measures to not make the same mistakes again. We talked about what we didnt like about what happened, what we didnt like about each other and what we like for ourselves. It was hard trying to forget about how much pain we went through and we do not have a guarantee that we wont get hurt again. But as Noah (of the Notebook) said, its the possibility, not the guarantee, that kept us going on. And we did.

6. A small plant

I wanted this to represent growth. Considering our fixing-up year, I saw this plant to symbolize us as being born again and we need continuously take care of each other to survive and to live. I know we will.

I dont like rain? No. I hate it.

I dont like the rainy season.

You can take me to all the fantasy series where I would realize the importance of rain and it wouldn't change how I feel.

I just dont like it.

I accept that we need it. Very much I know. And I dont mean otherwise.

But I still dont like it.

Imagine, you're going to this very-big-your-life-depends-on-it job interview, slept well, woke up early, had a 2-hour bath, wearing the best formal suit you could get your hands with, and that well-shined shoes. Then it rained.

You now need to walk real slow because you might get your feet wet from all the puddles and rain splashes. You also need to take your not-so-fashionable umbrella which really ruins your outfit.

Instead of taking the bus, you now need to take a cab to the office because of the rain-wet people coming in and out of the bus.

You will then have to call the office apologizing because you will arrive later than expected due to the heavy traffic. (Which, by the way, is a very bad impression.. and first impression lasts..)

After the interview, you can choose whether let the rain subside before going home, (which I think is a better idea although if we are talking about storms it would take hours..) or you can fight your way through the rain, may encounter a few flooded areas, survive some traffic jams and arrive home looking all wasted.


Ok. Im talking extremes. But can't anyone understand how frightening the sound of heavy rains on the roof is?

I am afraid of the rain. Honest. My hubby thinks its something funny. Everytime it rains he teases me about it, though it usually comes with a tight embrace and a kiss. (That really helps ease me out.)

I'm serious. The start of the rain triggers me to crawl up in bed and hide under my pillows, or the bedsheets or anything that can cover me from the rain.

My mom told me I was afraid of the rain since I was little. My children are afraid of the rain as well. I dont know if its hereditary. Its quite a moment when you see the three of us trying to get comfort from each other because we are all afraid the rain will cause something bad to happen.

Then reading this now makes me realize I am not really afraid of the rain, the rain cannot hurt me, the rain is as natural as living and I cannot stop it.

I think, what I'm really afraid of is being alone. Being in the midst of the "bad things happening" and I am alone.
Dont get me wrong though. I am a very independent person. I want things done my way.
But I do admit that at the lowliest times of my life I dont want to be by myself.
I've been there and its not it anyway good. or acceptable.

I am afraid that after I've been my best, given everything, risked all that is at stake and end up all wasted. And with everything to lose, I should survive.

And when you grew up overshadowed by the mistakes you've made over time. It isnt easy living with all those expectations of making up for them. You will always be afraid of making the same mistakes all over again. Or thinking that after all that you've done you'll still fail. And you spent half the time convincing yourself that you are not failure before you start redeeming yourself from being one.

If you are that person, you will be afraid everyday. You will be afraid of the rain. As I am.

Today, I hope it wont rain.
I left my umbrella at home.

A Good Share

I really feel good today.
I think its because today is one of my oh-my-god-my-hair-look-good days.
And because of this happy feeling, there is one particular forwarded e-mail I would like to share to everybody.
Its really a good read. And also inspiring. Enjoy.


The Best Kind of Love
by Annette Paxman Bowen

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl. "I am young again!" she shouts exuberantly.

As my friend raves on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.

When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, and communication.

Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

And there are surprises.

One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" (my cooking kettle) and the "treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.

There is understanding.
I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and even him - to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

There is sharing.

Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'd read it.

There is forgiveness.

When I'm embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."

There is sensitivity.

Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year old woman that had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman's husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself.

Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith.

Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer's disease on her father-in-law's personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, This is too much heartache for one week.

Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing.

I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer:
it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly young: we've experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories. I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line "Grow old along with me!"

We're following those instructions. "If anything is real, the heart will make it plain." There are some people who meet that somebody that they can never stop loving, no matter how hard they try. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, or even believe it, but trust me, there are some love that don't go away. And maybe that makes them crazy, but we should all be blessed to end up with that somebody who has a little of that insanity. Somebody who never lets go. Somebody who cherishes you forever.
Hope you find this kind of love in your life.

Genetically Read

I love reading. Definitely. I could spend an entire day doing nothing but read. (Well, if you count the times I tried reading the review material for the board exam, I lasted about 3 minutes. And that's actually an achievement.) My collection consists of love stories, FBI thrillers, Bob Ong's books, Harry Potter series, inspirationals, documentaries, vampire chronicles, comic books, and the reviewers (yes, even those).

The thing is, I read a lot. It relaxes me. It takes me to places Ive never been, tells me things Ive never known. It helps me with my emotions. I laugh, I cry, I get angry, I fear. This is my outlet. My window to the world.

*Commercial*
I rather read the book than watch the movie. Those writers, producers, directors or whoever it is responsible for the script tends to alter the chronology. They almost always do not follow the book. I dont like that. The first (and as of today, only) movie I've seen which is entirely adapted to the book is "The Green Mile". Loved the book. Loved the movie.
*End of Commercial*

I think its genetics. My mom is the main carrier. She's a reading freak. She reads entirely everything. As in everything. There are the common stuff like books, newspapers and magazines, but there are also the odd things like old newspapers that were already used to pack dried fish in the market (maybe she'll read my reviewer if I give it to her). It was more than a habit I think, more like an obsession. My sisters and I always go gaga over the lectures she gives us over what she read even if it sounds like a real nonsense. LOL. Love you ma. Cardboard siopaos are nonsense ma. Accept it.

Then there's my younger brother. He's so like me. We actually grew up together, having only 2 years of age difference. If he's not playing some wonderful (eyes rolling) computer game, or trying to do his program (he's an IT student), he's most probably reading. He borrowed every book in my collection. But he never bothered asking for the reviewer.

My younger sister loves reading too. But in a very weird way. She starts the book in the middle. Reads about 10 to 15 pages. Moves to the end of the book. Reads about the same number of pages. Then she starts flipping pages, reads a few. Loop. I don't know how she was able to finish any book she started using her method. She knows all the details though. I just dont know if she could retell the story in the exact order. Maybe she wants to be in the movie industry.

And the youngest. She doesnt read. She doesnt want to. End of story. (She's taking BS Education Major in English ?!shrugs?!).
See? Its genetics.

Bus Ride

I miss you.
I miss the small talks.

Sometimes we are too caught up in making a living,
That we forget to live.

We keep on trying to fill up every second with things to do,
That we forget how it feels doing nothing, just being together.

Sometimes I feel I dont belong in the city,
I dont want the fast-paced, career-centered life it offers.

I wanted to have the time to walk in the park, ride bicycles,
and hear little children laugh without thinking, 'I'm too tired.'

I wanted to crawl up in bed all worn out for staying up late,
watching all the feel-good movies I missed half a lifetime ago.

I wanted to dream about kitchens, libraries and living room couches.
I wanted to go star-gazing, lying on some old, rusty roof.

I dont need to watch the sun wake up with the skyscrapers.
I dont want to take that bus ride anymore.

Adam's Creation - Making Progress

The whole project consists of 15 pages. This is page 3A.


This is Pattern 12. At this picture I've already finished patterns 3A and 13.

Some pages contain very minimum stitches, mostly back stitches which resemble the wall lines..


Patterns 3A, 8B, 13 and 12. Its all hard work guys and patience.. well, a good eye would be an advantage. You need to be careful though with the number of stitches. ALWAYS count your stitches. That is very, very important. I got confused once and I ended up UNstitching some parts. Also, dont stitch to fast.. the thread has a tendency to form knots. (well, I dont know the root cause for this but it always happen to me.) Keep stitching..

Adam's Creation - First Stitches

These are the first few stitches I made.


This part took me two weekends to finish.(lol) I am only working during weekdays, bear with me.. and I have to finish the laundry on saturday mornings.. By the way, I am using 2 strands on a 14ct Aida White Cloth.


I finished the first color for the first page.

Adam's Creation - Getting Started

I started the project by first preparing all the things I would need, i.e threads, needles, scissors, markers, patterns and the cloth.


I made sure that I have completed the threads in the list (sort of a personal need).


I specifically arranged the threads this way for easy access.


I've read from the DMC website that it is advisable to start in the middle of the pattern moving outwards. This is to ensure that your pattern is centered in the cloth.

Finding HIM

My faith isnt way up there, that I admit. But I do believe in HIM. In my heart I believe of a greater power. I dont go to church every sunday, I dont read the bible and I have a few questions for Him if, and that is IF, I get to heaven.. But I have my faith. And I know that whenever, wherever and however I am in need, no matter how difficult, no matter how impossible it may seem, He will find a way for me, through me.

Essays - Pasko na

Ilang araw na lang at pasko na… tapos na ang init ng tag-araw at lamig ng tag-ulan.

Pasko na…, Maririnig ang mumunting tinig ng mga batang nangangaroling. Makikita ang maraming palamuti sa bawat bahay. Ang malalaking Christmas tree, ang maliliwanag na Christmas lights.

Pasko na…, Nakagagaan sa puso ang bawat pagbati ng “Maligayang Pasko” lalo na’t mula sa mga taong mahal mo at nagmamahal sa iyo.

Nararamdaman ko ang ginaw na hatid ng pasko ngunit wala na ang kilabot, wala na ang pag-iisa. Hindi katulad sa mga unang lamig ng panahon. Galing ako sa tag-ulan. Nailigtas ko ang aking sarili sa sumpang hatid ng panahon. Hindi napagod ang aking puso, sa halip ay lumaban ito ng sabay. Ito ay dahil sa dumating ka. Ang daang pinalabo ng ulan ay hinawi ng iyong pagmamahal. Ang kahapong patuloy na sumusugat sa aking pagkatao ay nagawa mong bigyan ng mas magandang bukas.

Unti-unti nang nauubos ang kakarampot na pag-asa na sa kabila ng lahat ay mararamdaman ko rin ang ngiti. Hindi ako nagkamali sa pag-asa, sa huling sandali bago ang aking pag-abot sa wakas ay dumating ka. Pinulot mo ang pira-pirasong bahagi ng aking buhay at binuo ito.

Inakala kong hindi ako handa. Sinabi kong hindi na ako marunong magmahal. Natatakot ako sa maaaring gawin ng kahapon upang sirain ang ngayong nagsisimula pa lamang mabuo. Minumulto ako ng sumpa ng nagdaan, binubuwag ang mga pangarap. Winawasak ang mabuway ko pang pagkatao.

Sinabi ko ring wala akong karapatang maging maligaya dahilan sa wala nang magmamahal sa akin. Nagkamali ako. Dumating ka. Binigyan mo ako ng pakpak upang bumangon at makaalis sa aking pagkakadapa sa lupa. Hindi ko na kailangang mangarap ng mag-isa. Hindi na ako natatakot sa paniningil ng pangako. Hindi na ako makakaramdam ng kahungkangan. Hindi na… Ang kapayapaang dati’y maaari lamang ihatid ng kamatayan ay maihahandog na ng isang masayang simula.

Nakikita ko na ang mga regalo, naririnig ko na rin ang mga pabulong na paghingi nito. Kasabay nito ay nakikita ko ang ngiti na kay tagal ring ipinagkait sa akin ng langit. Binubuhay nito ang ligaya na ni sa hinagap ay hindi ko inakalang madarama ko pa. Sa piling mo lamang napapatunayan na ang langit ay abot kamay lamang.

Sa maraming mga pagkakataon si tadhana ay gagawa ng paraan upang buwagin ang pagsasamang pinatitibay ng pag-ibig. Babalik at babalik ang kahapon, magpapa-alala sa kasalanang kulang ang habangbuhay upang mapagbayaran. Aangkinin ang bahagi nito sa aking puso, hindi upang punan ang espasyong iniwan nito, kundi upang sirain ang parteng naiwan para sa aking sarili.

Nakapagpahinga na ako, naituwid ko na ang landas kung saan ang mga pangako ay natatanaw na ang katuparan. Kumikilos ako hindi na dahil sa isang responsibilidad kundi dahil sa pagmamahal. Natagpuan ko na ang aking sarili at handa na ako.

Ilalaban ko ito kay tadhana, hindi na titigil sa isang paghihintay ng wakas. Hindi na ngayon, hindi ako nag-iisa. Hindi tayo magpapatalo sa labang ito. Ikaw at ako mahal ko.
Kapayapaan… Pag-ibig… Pasko… sa wakas…

Adam's Creation - The Project

This is my first major cross stitch project and considering the minimal time I spend to make it, I suppose it would take years for me to finish it. (lol) This pattern is called Adam's Creation or The Creation of Adam, whatever you find most suitable. You will find here the my progress since I started. Come cross-stitching with me..

Essays - Ulan

Unti-unting bumabalot ang madilim na ulap sa liwanag ng mundo. Malamig na ang dampi ng hangin sa aking balat. May hatid na kilabot sa aking pagkatao ang pagbabago ng panahon.

Uulan.., huhugasan ng langit ang kalat na ginawa ng mga taong nang Kanyang nilikha ay sinabing mga nararapat na mag-alaga ngunit hindi nagawa.

Uulan.., malilinis ang mga daang buong araw na dinumihan ng pagbabago; kalat na basura, alikabok, maduming usok.

Uulan na naman. Kasabay ng pagpatak ng luha ng langit, bibigkasin ang isang hiling na sana’y tangayin ng agos ang mga kalat na nagpapahirap sa aking puso. Mga naipong dumi ng panahon na unti-unting sumisira sa aking pagkatao.

Malalaki ang patak, parang mga palasong nakamamatay. Palasong sa bawat pagtama sa katawan ay sumusugat. Mga sugat na nag-iiwan ng lamat na muli’t muling magpapa-alala sa kahapon na kung maaari lamang ay ibaon sa ilalim ng lupa at hindi na muling hukayin pa. Kahapong sa tuwing umuulan ay nagkakaroon ng sariling buhay at mangyayaring muli sa iyong harapan. Magaganap ito sa isang paraang tumitimo sa pinakapuno ng sugat at walang maaaring gawin upang baguhin ang mga nangyari na.

Ang ulan ay magiging bagyo, mas malakas, mas makapangyarihan. Inuubos nito ang kakaunting lakas na natitira sa aking kalooban. Wala na akong alam, wala na akong kayang gawin. Kumikilos ako sa dahilang wala akong karapatang tumigil o magpahinga man lamang. Wala… Ang aking buhay ay nakatali sa isang pangako na siyang magsisilbing kabayaran sa pagkakautang ng isang kasalanan. Isang kasalanang pinagbabayaran kong mag-isa. Ang aking parusa, hindi na ako magiging maligaya. Kaligayahang ipinagkait ng mga dahilan ng buhay. Una, hindi na ako marunong magmahal. Hinigop na ng tadhana kahit ang kakarampot na pagmamahal ko para sa aking sarili, paano ko pa magagawang magmahal ng iba? Ikalawa, wala nang magmamahal sa akin. Ang isang katulad ko ay hindi karapatdapat mahalin ng kahit sino. Wala akong kayang ibigay, kahit isang pangako ng bukas ay hindi ko magagawa. Nawawala ang dating malinaw na daan ng aking buhay… dahil sa ulan.

Titila na ang ulan, unti-unting makikita ang naiwang bakas ng sakuna.., parang damdaming dahan-dahan ang pagkawasak, mga pangarap na hindi na mabibigyan ng katuparan sa kahit anong paraan. Wala na…

Sa pagsilip ng munting liwanag, lalatag sa kalangitan ang bahagharing may hatid na hiwaga tulad ng isang kumot ng katahimikang babalot sa aking puso… at katulad ng tumpok ng ginto sa dulo ng makulay na arko, my naghihintay na kasaganaan sa pagtatapos ng paglalakbay.

Muli ay mababalot ng dilim ang paligid ngunit wala na ang ulan. Si Haring Araw ay yumakap sa kabilang bahagi ng mundo upang magbigay buhay. Mapupuno ang karimlan ng maliliit na liwanag ng mga tala, mga munting ilaw na magbibigay ng sagot sa bawat tanong. Magtatanggal ng takot, mag-aalay ng pag-asa.

Wala… kahit gaano man kaganda ang mga ulap kasama ang hatid nitong ligaya, kulang ang mga bituin upang punan ang kalungkutan. Ang ulan ay mananatili sa aking puso, maghahatid ng takot at pangamba. Mag-iipon ng kahungkangan at pag-iisa. Hanggang sa mapagod na lamang ito at kusang tumigil upang magpahinga.

Kapayapaan… sa wakas…

Out There

I wish I’m out in the sun.
Walking barefoot. Almost tasting the cold dew.
Letting the sun warm the coldness of my being.

I wish I’m dancing in the rain.
Naked. Feeling the softness of bitter caress.
Allowing the rain to wash over the emptiness

I wish I’m sleeping in my bed
Drowned in pillows. Catching my breath.
Taking in the absurdity of false closure.

I wish I’m anywhere but here.
Wherever. Where I can’t be with you.
Someplace I can’t look to hate you.
And love you still.