broken promise

a short story.

Back from my mom's abode and facing the pc again. It's not raining, but im shivering inside. Emotions that I cannot express are cartwheeling inside my chest and tummy. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. My fingers are stiff from these tumultuous feelings and my feet are cold.

I'm not the best partner in the world, I know. And certainly I'm not getting the "most romantic lover" award for the 2009. But when I love...I really love. And so when I hurt...I really get hurt.

I am scared to give myself wholly, he may not take care of it. I might be left with nothing when he leaves me. I anticipate rejection even before I open myself to the other. And all it takes is one serious mistake. One stupidity. One carelessness to burst my fantasy bubble. I always compare my relationships (be it romantic or not) to crystal glasses.When the glass breaks, you can always try to piece it up together...but it will never be the same. If it breaks, it breaks...and you get a new one.

I find it useless to risk cutting myself patching a sharp broken glass back together again...You cannot do it anyway...with tears in your eyes and numb fingers...with deafening silence that cuts your heart in two...what can you do with a tired soul and a bleeding heart? nothing. Not one useful thing.

Not so Christmassy thoughts.

Every time I tell friends that are not from Davao that fireworks are banned here, I always get a disbelief reaction.

Oh well, it might sound strange but severed fingers and appendages due to stupid miscalculation of whether "to throw now or not" and "to throw where" (the deym firework) is just not part of the party plan here.

We get zero dismembered limbs from judas belt -->one of the most powerful firecrackers I've heard of. If you are unfamiliar with it...it looks like a long belt with strings of small powder wrapped in a cute way. With more than a hundred cute packets of sulfur in a string that goes off endlessly once you've light it up.

It is quite obvious that the genius who made this type of "disaster" is familiar with the "domino effect". However, in this case, instead of pushing the dominoes, you light the firecracker...and so it goes until it ends. It won't stop to see if you have severed a finger or two... If you stupidly wrapped it in your neck for a fur-like effect, it won't pause to even look at your head blow off...and it might not even be over when your head hits the ground. It follows no other schedule aside from its own. It will not apologize for dismembering any part of your body. Chances are, it might sue you for being there and possibly softening its effect because it had to hit your appendage or head. It will not forgive anti-climax factors...like you. Holidays are supposed to be a blast...It frowns on such... If you are...you will suffer.

If you hate your life -- arrange it with this dude. He will gladly end it for you...festively...don't forget to shout merry chrismas, ok.

If you hate your life and your neighbor -- this dude will make sure your neighbor feels it...You blow yourself near the hated neighbors' yards...pieces of your flesh will go to their private spaces...and believe me, another sight of fresh meat will make them puke even if they change houses after. Who knows, your flesh, pound by pound...so fresh in their eyes, might turn them into eternal vegetarians...Fish may not be included in their future menu even. That is one point for you... Sad thing is...you can only do it once...well if you blow yourself piece by piece, maybe it is possible to do it alot of times...or you can gather all your enemies in one boat when you do it...make them eat ice cream...make sure they are licking it from their cones when you do this "blowing" thing. Open mouths is better than open yards right?

or plan a party...offer sushi. Hehe.

Ok. I will stop. This is morbid and I am smiling too much -- which is sick.
Oh well...Merry Christmas everyone ^.^

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE HIM

- DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE HIM lyrics

I don't know how to love him.
MARY MAGDALENE

I don't know how to love him.
What to do, how to move him.
I've been changed, yes really changed.
In these past few days, when I've seen myself,
I seem like someone else.

I don't know how to take this.
I don't see why he moves me.
He's a man. He's just a man.
And I've had so many men before,
In very many ways,
He's just one more.

Should I bring him down?
Should I scream and shout?
Should I speak of love,
Let my feelings out?
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?

Don't you think it's rather funny,
I should be in this position.
I'm the one who's always been
So calm, so cool, no lover's fool,
Running every show.
He scares me so.

I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?

Yet, if he said he loved me,
I'd be lost. I'd be frightened.
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.
I'd turn my head. I'd back away.
I wouldn't want to know.

He scares me so.

I want him so.

I love him so.

morning me.

good morning world. why did you wake me up? you could have at least left me alone for a few minutes. i want to go back to sleep and forget about the fact that i slept with a bruised part of my body plus my back hurts and a few places of my body is just plain sore. Despite the fact that my bed right now is big, cozy and in a state of disarray (to which I have no intention of arranging). I'm a mess myself -- tousled hair held in place by a ballpoint, hand with visible "paid" mark, sleepy face half painted in chocolate ice cream (becuase of "gluttonic" reasons hehe), and feet up in the air for no apparent reason. My shoulder hurts a lot from the position i was in when i was asleep and i kept on yawning that makes my nose grow big. sheesh. talk about major mutation. I morphed into something my mother would call "a disaster"... or is it "hopeless" ... i think i remember her saying I'm born "a disaster" and I've mastered the sophistication of being "a headache" -- what can i say? --patience is a virtue, the main virtue that regulate mothers and their impulses to choke their children in their height of tantrums. I'm sensitive though. I may not be emotional sometimes but a good drama flick can make me soggy -- someone dies in the movie and i bawl. I connect. I try to not disturb people (except for very few close ones). I seldom contradict (unless you're really asking for it). I sympathize. and lastly, i'm nobody's pain in the ass except for those people who loves me. *smiles.

....Life is...

...beautiful despite ugly truths.
all i can say is...what happened?

the curls

me and my officially curly hair ^.^

death of a friend

What a way to go. He couldn't have picked the best time... It is perfect. Everybody is celebrating the dead. He instantly becomes a celebrant. But is it worth celebrating? A friend expires and we are left behind with nothing but memories of him. Memories that are not even accurate. Memories to be visible only in words as we write and talk about an expired friend. no...expire is demeaning. retired would be a suitable word. or is it?

death is as common as can be. everyobody I know is always related to someone dead.
We, ourselves are going that way...But it still sends shivers everytime I am informed of a death, especially of a loved one. Confronted with this reality, we tend to question our mortality. We look for ways to validate the fact that we are living the life we want. or the life we thought we want.

*Sigh. suddenly, just knowing we wont see him again, instantly I immediately want to see him. Pathetic. Pathetic and too late. Does he know that I see him special? Does he know I see him as a good friend?

the answer holds no value now.... ---right? questions and answers are for people who can question and answer...I wish the opposite though, but that would mean, we'd have to bring him back to life... please -- find someone who can arrange.

license to breathe

Solvent overdose of the year.
a mixture of rugby, thinner, and paint --- sniffed to the highest level --- resulted to a salon cruise that involved threading and perm.

Martin and I started painting the office. We felt creative that day... Too creative perhaps... If there is one thing I have learned so far -- it is the fact that being high may result in unwanted hair perm.

The paint.
White and sticky. It came in the form of a gallon of stuff that just wont stop from trickling to our elbows when all we wanted was for it to stick the wall.

**We were left to our own devices and thus painted our way to destroying the already-in-shambles-studio.

mission number one.
status: over and done with
drip.drip.drip --- while singing I have two hands.

The bottles of thinner.
Clear liquid used by people who doesnt know what they are doing. Primarily used to clean up various indescribable mess on the floor.

Mission two
status: partly accomplished.
Requirement: you must love the art of stooping. NOt reccomended for people who are in the dying age.

The Mafia Boss -- the rugby.
sticky white goo that smells so strong that your spirit just fly out of you.
Caution: is alive!!!!

Mision three a.k.a. Mission Impossible
status: it's complicated

Carpet has not been installed yet. And so covered with paint, martin and I decided to create another fiasco -- and in our little hands is the bottle of rugby and on the floor, the black carpet laid to be exploited... Little did we know...that would be the icing on top of the cake.

Without further ado, let me confirm your suspicions-- yes, you are right, we struggled to paste it on the floor...oh yes we did...in a very bad way... Its like teaching grandma the pretzel.Mission number three--- is mission impossible times three.

Skills gained:
at the end of the day, we have practically perfected the technique of smelling through our ears.

After Effects
The rugby smell was so strong we got knocked out so bad that resulted to an even more mess that resulted to the towing of my beast as suggested by my mechanic because he just couldn't make "Colonel" roar back into life in the office parking lot. The painting took a week and my truck was dead for almost a week also. he was trying to resuscitate for five days already. He said, the beast needed to be taken to his shop.
Nobody said being a Laborer is really a labor...sheesh

What could have happened?
All I remember is that Martin and I were in the car wanting to go home. The next thing I remember, I was in the office couch the next morning and my car is not starting.Don't ask me, your guess is as good as mine.

Other damages
HAIR -aside from the dead brain cells due to solvent inhalation

I was so stressed with the fact that my beast has no life and has to be towed that I made the wrong decision of stepping into THE salon -- insisting that i get a perm.

The lady said no.
I should have listened.
Shyet.

Huhu...but anyways...crying over spilled milk is useless. I'm determined to be happy about this...and I will be! drat - Lalalala!

oh...and yes... I am now officially not straight...
no, not that way, pervert.

writing my way to sleep.

where is mr. sandman when you need him?

I can feel the air getting colder and my feet are kinda liking it. Humming slowly to calm my wandering mind and making a havoc in other people's lives by sending unnecessary hellos via sms to people who don't want to be disturbed.

Im sorry. I am a bad girl. And this bad girl is having trouble sleeping. And just like any other bad girl, this little missy is making sure, her suffering of having another sleepless night is being shared with other people who've hit the bed with ease and who unfortunately have their cellphone under their pillow. Im sorry, but misery loves company.

My nocturnal friends have, to my disadvantage, gotten smarter. They know what to do now when they receive my sleepless-night-lovenotes...They ignore it. hehe. Or better yet, they reply with an invitation for me to come out of my hibernation to join them in their prowl of the city. Regardless of the fact that I may look like a party-girl, I am not. My semi-goth choices of clothes and make-up is something I wear because I like it...not because I have some goth-party to attend to...that's just me...weird. Anyway, an invitation to party out always make me stuck my tongue out in frustration. I rarely go out to socialize.

Don't get me wrong, I am a happy, outgoing little missy-- it's just that I have my own little party twirl in my head. A second party will just mess me up. A hot coco is a better preference to soothe my heart and calm my soul. Plus I grew up where parties are for special occasions. haha CHAR.

oh well.

My choices of whatever is the least of my concern tonight.
I am willing to give up my bloody red lipstick for a few winks from mr. sandman. Ok, let me throw my to skull tops too...
but please please don't ask for my slippers...they are expensive.

I know I should stop wearing slippers in my meetings...but I've totally given up wearing sandals and shoes for a year now that I find it quite difficult to give up the comfort of having my bare feet worshiped by friends and strangers alike. WOhoo! The comfort of feeling their eyes look at my stubby toes as it lightly taps in choreography that makes them wonder if the toes will even fall out sooner or later as they hold their breath in fascination.
Ok I made that up.

It's just comfortable...plus they're mine.

ok, now im starting to worry about my feet. Thank heavens, we have a just God, he gave you a pair of your own to worry over...if not -- you must have done something to piss him off. All I can say is...better learn how you did it and fast, before you start doing it again and have your organs removed next.

Lucky you if He chose the kidney first...if not --you might voluntarily offer that one...others get a Php100,000 in the exchange... but the money is actually not a payment for the organ...you cannot make God pay for something he made...the money you receive is a debt...to be paid in installments...within small measures of suffering when you urinate everyday...when your pissing with one leg up...that means, your interest just got higher.

Awww..that is sad... I don't want to give up my kidneys..not now. Not ever... well...except when I really have to. hehe. Giving up something we love or something that is a part of us will always be painful...It can come in the form of SBOD --shocking blow on delivery or to be experienced in installments of small measurements of suffering stretching from a week to half a millenium... But that is life. It is neither free nor fair. It has its own sets of jokes that we sometimes find cruel rather than funny... But its jokes are always funny. We just sometimes don't have the right sense of humor.

Speaking of which....so many things I want to say...but sleep has finally found it's way to me....hehe. good night world...hello mr. sandman. finally.

Epal Moment of the year!

All I can say is that, I wish I didnt smile as much! ang epal ko! haha!

Do i I look like I haven't taken a bath in the photo? (nod?) of course... its because I haven't. After being cornered at Via Mare, sunday night, no thanks to Roberto (and accomplice Bianca), I proceeded to spend the rest of it running around to find markers and cartolina. Do not ask me what it was for... I'm still groping for words to explain how I got myself there...

When I sent Roberto a message that I am free for the evening, I was ready to get wasted and to get drunk. I was wearing my black skull dress as a prep. Wore goth makeup with black kohl lines in my eyes.ashen gloss and a "kinda-sorta" depressive expression to go with it. Had my mother saw me, she would have disowned me -- which is not far from happening anyway. We haven't spoken for almost a month now, btw (but that's another complicated story of my life).

I was already looking the part, with my red high platform havas to match the red rubbers of my braces, I was ready to enter the dark side.

If I remember correctly, it was Roberto was the first one to get me drunk without me realizing it. There were three of us then. It was my first time to meet him. I didn't know then that rice makes him grumpy. We were with a foreigner, so naturally rice is not part of his daily routine. But I'm a chicken-and-rice girl. I live and breathe because of chicken and rice. They ordered beer and other sundry stuff. Like a fool, to be polite, I told myself to wait for them to order rice before I order mine for dinner, it was, after all, past 6pm, they are bound to eat something of substance...or so I thought.

Come 9pm, the two just drank beer...I ended up closing the night, half shouting my theory of relativity in an attempt to philosophically explain how we are all a product of our human history...Not being coherent but trying to be by shouting -- like that foreign guy you see that raises his voice when he orders, thinking that the waiter will understand him regardless of the fact that the waiter doesn't speak his language -- I was that...except I was not making an order...and the two are not waiters. But like that guy, I just didn't make sense.

The next day, we met again, I was careful not to be in the same state... I went home feeling funny but sane. The third night, we met again over buckets of beer. In the fourth night of the beer marathon, I responded to the invitation by saying "I have a fever". That was the end of my beer drinking career.

That sunday night, after having been done with all the stresses of my life, I thought it apt to drink my way to oblivion as a reward. But life has a funny way of making you change your plans. And life is not very patient, it makes you change it immediately. Roberto brought me a friendly face from Mindanao who snapped me out of my drinking fantasy by telling me that I need to get up 7am the next day. I nodded and life approvingly made the weather easier for me to accomplish my treasure hunt ---> from one block to another, in search of markers and cartolina, and thankfully finding them at 7-eleven. After obtaining my jewels, i found myself at a coffee shop making plans and nowhere near getting drunk (drat)! My ghetto-morbid attire is making other people stare at me and I was looking too happy for my goth make-up.

But life decided to put in another surprise. A friend came by to uproot me from my little homey coffee shop. I ended up watching a movie, squeling in embarrassment for the actor, and going home hungry and stressed than ever because I havent started my cartolina job yet. Needless to say, I was a zombie when Biancatot woke me up via text.

And that is the story of that funny face in the first picture. I looked out of place...because I was out of place. Having slept so little because of going home late and waking up before everyone does because of a too early appointment, the madness of it all tends to register in the face.

Thank heavens, sanity came back the next day.

the culprit, roberto

the accomplice, biancatot

Health.Beauty.(and)Wellness for Creative Exchange 2009

Health, Beauty, and Wellness.
our VIP guests will surely purr in contentment

We have started last year and now on our second year of celebrating good relationship with clients and friends. We've done the Cultural and Fierce performances last year, this year, we have decided to do an intimate gathering for selected guests. A muted elegant atmosphere with complementing music and a more warm setting this time. Lighting it up with incense and scented candles coupled with relaxing free massages, facial spa, special treats...

Felicitea, Market Basket | Friday, 6:00 pm | Sept 04, 2009

This theme is being inspired by the uprising buzz of SPAs in Davao City. Of course, doing a SPA Party means we'd be introducing something in that line too. Soon to open in December: REJUVENASI, Davao's first anti-aging SPA. With treatments using Galvanic method, everyone can now age gracefully...literally.

Our signature Facial

Rejuvenasi Signature Facial

To calm, balance, and revitalize

45min - 1hr | Php 1,500

Skin regenerative results in just a few minutes

The luxurious facial spa you all have been waiting for. Pampering you with a 5-10 minute facial massage infused with Marigold, sea kelp, and vanilla extracts to soothe and condition the skin. Followed by 5-10 minute Hydrating spa treatment. Indulging you with 5-10 minute massage of Arginine to help your skin recover from stress. And lastly a rich facial spa treatment of Magnesium to energize, invigorate and revitalize.

Effects: restore skin's natural vibrancy by removing impurities and promoting cellular energy. Slows the signs of Aging, instantly erases crows’ feet and laugh lines, lifts up sagging facial features, cleanses and hydrates leaving skin feeling incredibly soft, clean, and refreshed.

dazed in manila (again.)

(written in agave.many nights before)

green and orange lights is constantly distracting my reflective mood. But Roberto and Bincatot is here and both are a distraction themselves...in the best sense (both good and bad). Roberto just recently asked me what do i need? Never mind the premise of such question. Hmmm...so what do i really need? a backscratch and a footrub. My warm bed, my books, and the incandescent glow of my night lamp...

(...continued in davao)

After being in manila the nth time -- I still feel lost here. (Oh well, i get lost anywhere regardless anyway). It's ok to get lost -- but to feel lost is another thing. Maybe because I never really accepted Manila as home. It never has been -- don't think it will be in the future. But who knows...nobody really knows anything. I don't even find it relevant to ask in the first place.

but somewhere along the way, after the nth time i got annoyed because of no particular reason, I found me a little home sweet home. In the 5th floor of azotea de bel air are 3 bunks for the urban tiger like me. Clean and fresh, cozy and vibrant...warm people that treat you like family -- exactly what i need. It's a treasure in the heart of makati -- and in front of tito chito's watering hole.

I still find manila impossibly noisy and crowded

there are some things that you just have to surrender to. I was in Agave when I first wrote the first few paragraphs of this blog. The lights, I bet, are still blinking in its orange and green glow there, the dj must be probably playing a different set of music in the same volume range.-- enough to jumble your already mixed up brain but a few notches short of making you a permanent deaf. A group or two must be crowding their tables outside with maybe a loner in a corner drowning silent tears with a bottle of beer... maybe a chick with a margarita, trying to get drunk for the first time. But one girl is missing...ME. I'm not there seeking my solitude amidst the loud melody of their music...I bet Roberto is somewhere in Merville doing things I would probably be doing if I was him. I don't think Agave will miss me... But the lights might notice that a fan is missing its glorious display of oragne and green tint. Do you think it will look for me?

long distance relationships

Long distance relationships is not challenging...it is a challenge.

It happens when crazed-and-intimately-attached- lovers decided to be in a binding relationship regardless of the existing endless water and mass of earth sitting like a plump fairy between them. But this plump fairy is not very accommodating with wishes, it is hard as a rock, deep as the abyss, and frigidly cold as that raw meat in the freezer.

It doensn't let you cross it for free. Arline tickets and cruise packages are extremely expensive that the word "filthy rich" and "robbery" comes to mind often.

It won't even let your voice pass without a fee.

It has numerous toll gates.Conflicting bodies of government.And landmines waiting for some fool to play with it.

Not to mention warring parties with deadly nuclear weapons that can destroy the earth 7 times. Duh. You can only destroy the earth once. Once it blow, everything disintegrates rendering the other 6 useless... hoookay? well if , and only if, by some miracle everything disintegrates and the 6 remained intact, nobody will be alive then to miraculously push the button of destruction once again.

The END-OF-THE-WORLD episode of our lives can only happen once, and its so absolute that nobody will be left to say "Bravo! Magnifico! that blow really blew me!". So let me tell it in advance to the genius, whoever he/she may be, wherever he/she may be located.

"congratulations for making sure everybody die an equal death, may we all rest in peace"

With all these lunatics between us, storms and climate changes, taxes and VATs, not to mention wild animals on the prowl, both four and two-legged...long distance relationships become a rock-climbing, off-road expedition of mixed emotions and frustrations that sends us crashing head on.

And so, lovers' break down because others just break away.

But does distance really have to do with it?

I've seen couples not torn by different timezones and geographical obstacles act as if they have a black hole existing between them. One can be so near yet so out of reach at the same time.

But blame it to the world becauase the world doesn't complain.

Never mind that our pride is more difficult to climb than its highest mountain.

Never mind that we become fickle minded, swaying more than the wind that courses through the trees.

Never mind that our anger is far more bitter than the storm that wrecks the fields.

Never mind that our eyes wander like a stranger sometimes.

Never mind that we sometimes take the slightest offense as a mock reason to create an impenetrable wall to those closest to us.

Never mind that we sometimes create our own world where no one is allowed to set foot upon.

Never mind that we sometimes wage an invisible battle where enemies are meant to lose no matter what.

Blame it to the world because it can only whistle its heartaches.

because its rain drowns its pains and tears.

because it survived the weathering changes of time, making it even stronger and beautiful as lovers continue to grow apart.

Yes, blame the world as our madness takes us to the edge of sanity as we collectively create and destroy cities in the name of pride and love.

But if you really want to test your capacity to endure a long distance relationship, be a priest.

Submit yourself to the "holy marriage" that requires absolute obedience and fidelity.

Where your partner is omnipotent that sneaking out to party at night and going home with a lame excuse of overtime will be just that, LAME.

And arguments are out of the question.

So jealous that being everywhere is not even enough that spies and assassins in the form of demons and angels are being sent and instructed to remind you of your sins with visions of hell to instill fear in your heart.

A partner that neither believes in telephones nor customer service.

A partner you cannot woe with chocolates and flowers.

A Partner that you cannot shout at (well, you can always try).

A Partner you cannot stand to lose.

Where communication will always be like an exercise of patience because it's like being on hold forever with intermittent flashes of light to daze you with constant subtle reminders and threats of hell sung in a melody of a song that is longer than "stairway to heaven" to keep you company while you wait for the operator to come.

It is not a long distance relationship -- it is an impossibility-made-possible relationship.

Where distance does not only exist, but another plane of reality stands in the middle of it all. This time the fairy is far more cruel in its collection of taxes. Where you pay with your everything including your sanity.

And unlike the plump fairy called THE WORLD, it will only allow you to point your finger towards yourself --blaming your imperfect existence is the only option.

Bummer if God doesn't really exist.

Double bummer if he does and you committed adultery.

murky waters

I find myself thinking about the brown muddy water one finds on a clay ground after a bashful of rain. I do not want to dwell on the reason why I suddenly felt the impulse of thinking such weird thoughts... as I am more pre-occupied of the feelings it creeps inside me whenever a picture of a puddle returns to mind.

No, I am not easily put off by dirt and nor do I squirm when I see mud. There have been times when the warmth of the wet earth between my toes soothed my aching feet and calmed my bruised soul as I faced an endless road with only my thoughts to keep me company. Where my companions are also busy keeping their shaky spirit sturdy as they wipe their brows with the back of their hand.

The thoughts of those long walk makes me smile and sigh at the same time. But the mud between my feet were alies... friend to the weary traveller... comforter of battered thighs and weathered bodies...

The golden color of the earth as it squish between my toes changes hues and everytime I try to look at my feet, I see more of the mud than of the flesh I am made of. But ashes to ashes, dust to dust -- or so the saying goes...aren't we all, in one form or another, as muddy and as dirty? just like the earth we step on?

When we take our last breath and our carcass thrown to the ground... after the last rite symbolizing our return to the womb of mother nature, don't we all crumble to become the same dust and mud we walk on? are we not every bit earthy as every bit of soil that makes up the earth we live in?

and so I tell myself, why feel uncomfortable of the thought of a muddy puddle?

I don't know.

It is one of those moments where we feel something we cannot explain. I bet you also had that experience of just feeling something strange,

like being happy without a reason,

feeling fear without knowing why,

feeling uncomfortable when there is no obvious reason to be so...

and you just do...

You don't ask why...

sometimes, you don't even stop to acknowledge the feeling...

happened so suddenly... so fast, that it throws you on a wheeling spree of emotions that only you could understand because YOU feel it.

But you understand and you don't understand at the same time. Coz you can't seem to find the right words to explain it... You cannot assign a language to verbalize it. And every attempt to verbally reconstruct that feeling you cannot explain always end in failure...you find it to be a feeble move...for to bottle something that is fusing profusely, knotting you almost is physical discomfort, even to the brink of pain...to bottle something that makes you wanna explode...is just an impossibility...

and so you end up frustrated. You feel alienated from the people you want to share it with. Misunderstood by the few who tried to reach out... Everyone feeling disappointed and useless.

And so when you feel that confusing mixture of feelings, that cartwheeling emotions that threatens to destroy your little comfortable bubble... you tend to keep quiet.

Lost in your own thoughts. Drowned in your silence. Overwhelmed by the experience... Regretting your inability to patch others in the moment. Disappointed how they cannot get to you.

You feel alone but not lonely.

You become tired but somewhat satisfied.

You become fearful, because the unknown always bring the fear in us.

Surprises, good or bad,and that uncertainty of feeling and not feeling, knowing and not knowing, living and not existing. Of being fearful and intrigued, of being bashed and battered and feeling satisfied despite of it all, always make our hearts jump.

Just as the muddy water and the thought of it splashing as a pair of feet steps on it makes me hold my breath, I find myself bathed in this crazy experience of finding and not finding -- not that I know what it is that I am not looking for in the first place.

A splash of mixed and construed emotions that makes me want to run for the fear of being mad. But for sure, I haven't lost my mind (or have i?)...although, it is a possibility that it was my mind who have lost me.

Incapable of understanding the moment I am in and the experience I find myself swimming in the middle of, could it be that it decided to leave me behind to wander off towards normal things it can grasp on?

Like me, my mind fears everything it cannot understand.

Everything it cannot accept just cannot be true... or so it insists.

Until proven...sanity must be grounded on a level whereby it can be defined, determined, dissected and discussed.

The swirl of emotions and the shock of understanding and not understanding, of feeling and not feeling, and merger of being there but not really existing...is...like groping in a deep puddle of muddy murky brown water.

You instantly fear, you suddenly think about things you normally wouldn't think about...after all, you do not know what vile things plagues the bottom and the bottom, you can only feel but not see.

You y try to guess knowing you cannot fully know.

You grope and you shiver with excitement of promised unspoken adventures as your mind opens a chest of treasures of endless possibilities while it dictates that the unknown almost always cannot be trusted.

The mind will step on it, just as the pair of feet will put its weight on the brown slimy soil... splashing the brown water sideways, parting the earthy paste...but no matter how many times the feet tries to part it, it seeps back to its place in the earth. Just as the mind might try to discern, dissect and understand, the confusion of having contradictory emotions will always find a way to throw the balance of our once stabel thoughts.

The mind, like the feet, may try to feel the warmth the murky muddy earthy confusion of the moment offers... but neither can stand eachother for so long.

No, the feet can only stand the mud for so long before it starts to itch, before it starts to look for the fresh refuge of water... And no, it doesnt matter that they are of the same composition. It doesnt matter that the feet that moves in the muddy puddle is made of the same earth the brown slimy mud is made of...

So no, the mind might feed from the mixture of emotions and experiences it receives, sharpening its understanding of how to go through the world...but just as the feet would shake the muddy existence of the brown earth off it, the mind will find a way to construct a sane explanation of things and feelings that it is confronted with...It will try to shake off the confusion and disturbing emotions unti it succeeds.

yes, until it shakes off that uncertainty of feeling and not feeling, knowing and not knowing, living and not existing. Of being fearful and intrigued, of being bashed and battered and feeling satisfied.

Don't ask me why.

It's just feels so.

It just seems right that way.

For it is also not right for mud to overly fester on the feet, nor do abstract emotions to forever distract the sanity of thought...

That's how things are.

It just is.

im busy.

things I'm doing the past few days

checking the fish

trying to reach i nirvana

ditracting myself from hunger

busy testing the air if it is still breathable...

checking if labor rights are being respected.

being the evil passport chieftain

--had to quit coz te neng and i found the golden buddha - ehe! =P

My Name's hidden meaning, find out yours.

You Are Peaceful and Content

You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow.

You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily.

Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is.

You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone.

You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together.

At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.

You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. 

You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. 

You have the classic "Type A" personality...

You are truly an original person. You have amazing ideas, and the power to carry them out. Success comes rather easily for you... especially in business and academia. Some people find you to be selfish and a bit overbearing. You're a strong person.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

mom.

Quietly celebrated Mother's day Today.  I am not a woman who notes every special event --I should, but I am currently struggling with my children's birthdates that I do not have the time and patience to add "special days" that is mostly dictated by tradition and enhanced by commercialism.  

I have nothing against tradition, in fact, despite our gadgets and techie toys, most of our perspective are still traditional, shaped by prejudices, sharpened by old lessons and hardened by our mother's nagging.  

I, for example, am battling the chain of domestic chores that our patriarchal society tie on women.  I've struggled to become an independent modern woman, with a career to toy with and a clean sink to go home to.  I was successful in avoiding the dishes, but I still find myself washing plates of different kinds.  It's like leaving my simple little kitchen to prove that I can, only to find myself doing THE task I'm avoiding -- but this time, in a more complicated and bigger food station. 

My mother, in all her strictness and monologues, was not wrong when she said that I will someday be like her.  In all my daring attempts to test my boundaries, I find myself creating a pen around my children's.  In my careless wanderings, I find myself holding back my kid's attempt to explore outside the line I set for them.  In all my modern perspective, I still cannot help myself from raising my kids the way my mother raised me, not as tight -- but close nonetheless.

I stil don't understand the concept of nagging, but I think it has to do with the flood of information that you want to share and the rush of emotions and the limitations of language. 

 The experience of wanting to protect the people you care about is so intense that words are not enough to cater your flowing affection.  My mother, was scared to lose me as she watched me struggle as I try to break the cocoon she made for me... She felt a sense of urgency as she watched me peel off layer after layer of the sheltered life she gave me that each verbal reminder is thrusted with a forceful blow hitting the mark harder than usual.

She unknowingly bruised my memory, wounded my soul, and hurt my pride.We always hurt the people we love the most.  But it's been years since I've stopped licking my wounds. It's a love and hate relationship -- the best of its kind.

I am a mother now.  Or trying to be a good one. But I will always be a little girl in my mom's eyes. 

*smiles I find nothing wrong with that.

Happy Mothers Day...

Mothers in developing nations are often last to eat, despite producing most of the food! This Mother's Day let's help a mom feed her child.

Instead of giving a traditional Hallmark card, it would be great if they could add an ecard to the Wall Against Hunger: wall.wfp.org

This time, after we give flowers and treat our mothers, let's extend our hand to starving mothers who are faceless to the many of us but is real as the one we have.  A little help and a little time will not hurt us nor but will definitely be something for the women who has nothing but their children - literally.

Mothers and Hunger

The Facts  
by Wall.wfp.org

 Key points:

• More than 60 percent of chronically hungry people in the world – around 580 million people – are women. (Source: FAO)
  
•  In 2008, 82% of WFP’s beneficiaries were women and children.
  
•  Educated mothers have healthier families. Their children are better nourished, less likely to die in infancy and more likely to attend school. (Source: FAO)
  
•  Increasing opportunities for mothers has a particularly strong impact on hunger because women devote much more of their income directly to feeding their families than men do. One study found that increasing women's primary schooling could boost agricultural output by 24%. (Source: World Bank)
  
•  As women have unequal access to resources, a food crisis - such as 2008’s high food and fuel prices crisis and the present financial crisis – only worsens the situation.
  
•  Continuing high food prices have forced families to reduce their food intake while increasing the workload of women in order to earn more income to purchase food.
  
•  Breaking the cycle of hunger and poverty at its roots begins with women. Hunger breeds insecurity and often exacerbates circumstances that lead to conflict and crisis, and creates situations where women and girls are often the victims of abuse, rape and violence.
  

 Other points:

•  A quarter of all hungry people are children. All too often, child hunger is inherited: up to 17 million children are born underweight annually, the result of inadequate nutrition before and during pregnancy. (Source: Unicef) 
  
• Around 50% of pregnant women in developing countries are anaemic. Lack of iron increases the risk of death of the mother at delivery, accounting for at least 20% of maternal mortality. (Source: Kraemer, K. and Zimmermann, M.B. Nutritional Anaemia, Sight and Life, 2007)
  
•  Children born to iodine-deficient mothers have been shown to have an average 13.5 point lower IQ than children born to iodine-replete mothers. (Source: Bleichrodt, N. and Born, M.P. A Meta-analysis of Research on Iodine and its Rrelationship to Cognitive Development. The Damaged Brain of Iodine Deficiency, New York, Cognitizant Communication, 1994)
  
•  As a result, women, and in particular expectant and nursing mothers, often need special or increased intake of food.
  
•  The prevention of maternal and child undernutrition is a long-term investment that will benefit the present as well as the future generation.
  
•  Women are the world’s primary food producers, yet cultural traditions and social structures often mean women are much more affected by hunger and poverty than men.
  
•  In most developing countries women produce between 60 and 80% of food, but own less than 2% of the world’s titled land. (Source: Rural Development Institute)
  
•  A mother will often be the last to eat – instead saving food for her children and other family members.
  
•  There is a danger that mothers will engage in negative coping mechanisms, such as prostitution, in order to provide for their families in times of hardship.

 What WFP Does to Help Mothers and Other Women

• As the world’s largest humanitarian organisation, WFP feeds the world’s hungriest and most vulnerable people – the overwhelming majority of whom are women and children.
  
•  WFP’s policy on gender issues has been in place and guiding our work since the mid 80s.
  
•  WFP uses a range of activities to empower mothers and their daughters, providing vital skills and income-earning opportunities through Food for Training and Food for Work programmes.
  
•  WFP supports children and mothers by providing them with nutritious foods during the critical stages of their lives, including childhood and pregnancy. Our focus is not to just give any food, but to give quality, fortified foods to ensure that we contribute to the nutrient needs of newborns, pregnant and nursing women.
  
• WFP works with national governments, the African Union, FAO, IFAD and others to encourage increased sustainable food production and a ‘green revolution’ in Africa. Women smallholder farmers are key to unlocking this potential.
  
•  WFP supports women smallholder farmers through our local purchasing of food. Half of WFP’s budget comes in the form of cash and we use 80% of that cash to purchase food from farmers in the developing world.
  
•  WFP gives extra take-home food rations to girls in our school feeding programmes. This virtually guarantees that girls will attend school, even in cultures where women have had no access to education.
  
•  In crisis and conflict situations WFP works closely with our female partners in implementing our projects, including food distributions. In 2008, 574,000 women were in leadership positions on food management committees, an increase of 140% over the previous year.
  
•  In camps for refugees and IDPs we allocate family food vouchers to women, thus helping to protect them against abductions and violence. Also, the nutritional support we provide to formerly abducted children, especially girls, has facilitated their social reintegration and reduced their vulnerability to sexual exploitation and abuse.