Meet Me

I remember having dreams of beating up a child, a little girl to be exact, at certain times during the not-so-distant past. As these dreams unfolded, my emotions would be extreme. Usually, I was filled with rage and sadness at the same time. Each slap and kick would be accompanied by my nerve-shattering shrieks of agony and anger. The girl's body reacted in accordance to my blows, but her countenance remained passive. She would not do so much as to even blink. All the while, she would just stare at me with those large expressionless eyes. At times the dream would be too graphic and brutal that the white dress she always wore would become stained with her own blood, as I spilled my rage at her, hitting and scratching, and tearing off chunks of her long shiny black hair. Yet through it all, she just took the beatings I gave her. Not once did she react, even when she was already pinned helplessly on the ground with me on top of her, pounding at her like a mad woman. Waking up mid-sleep after having these troubling dreams, my chest would heave from the intensity of the emotions that still haunted me long after I have been conscious. The anger and remorse that followed were too strong that there were times I could not keep myself from just crying after I had awaken. I was so sorry for what I did; I felt so guilty and sad for hurting the girl badly. I knew who the little girl was. I knew her very well...but what I didn't understand was why I would be so angry at her. For quite some time now, I don't recall having dreams of her. I want to think that the little girl must be happy now. However, despite my wishful thinking, I still can't get the nagging thought that up until now she still feels sad...


If you could see the girl living inside of me,
what would you say to her?
Would you nod your head in greeting?
Would you shake her hand and say, "How do you do?"
Or would you just turn your back on her
and walk away
As though you haven't seen her
As if you've never met
As if you haven't looked into those large, sad eyes
Pretending she never was there
That no such girl existed at all
And that no such girl could have lived in isolation
Deep inside of this woman you have known all your life
Whose smiling face perfectly contrasts
That of the eternally sad expression in those little girl's eyes
who has lived in total isolation for an insane thirty-three years
Unrecognized, neglected, and unloved
Imprisoned in loneliness as she counted imaginary stars
and told of many a great story that have yet to be penned
Collecting every tear drop she shed for the sight, sound, or thought 
of anything and everything that is beautiful
As she stayed in her forced isolation of shattering silence
All the while praying and hoping that you would come knocking one day
at the tiny door of that prison which held the secrets of her endless universe
And say, "Hello."

Movie Watching Hiatus Ended

Just came home from watching a movie. When was the last time I've been to the movies? Two years ago? A year ago? Half a year ago? Ha ha my life has been so solitary and silent that I have nearly forgotten the joy of watching movies. Before I headed to the cinema, I spent four hours tutoring my students first. Then, I eagerly took a public cab to the mall and bought myself a movie ticket for the current local horror flick being shown this week. Being the 11th installment of a famous horror flick which started during my fifth year in elementary school, I didn't know exactly what to expect from this year's "Shake, Rattle, and Roll." In the previous years, most of the stories had turned out crass. But last year and this year had been quite entertaining. The one I have just watched had been the darkest so far compared to the other four installments that came before it. Oh, well, I'll just write a longer post tomorrow. I am so tired already. 

Taking Away the Sadness

"Can you take the sadness away?"
While watching "Where the Wild Things Are", this question raised by one of the monsters to their newly crowned child-king struck me. Although the theme of the movie is centered on helping children understand the nature of their passive-aggressive behavior due to their parents' divorce, this particular query is something that all of us can identify with, whether or not we have gone through the same dilemma. Parental issues are not the only  instances whereby we feel sad. When we look at it, there are many aspects about life that do make us feel sad. 
I, for one, have to deal with this seemingly deep abyss of sadness from time to time. As to what causes it, I know of only one answer: loneliness. 
Yes, I am lonely. I have friends and my family but I still feel lonely. Every day as I religiously attend to whatever chore is required in the various games I play at facebook, I couldn't deny that nagging loneliness suffusing my being with every click of the mouse. My profession as a writer and artist requires me to go on alone and use loneliness to extract every last drop of creative juice from my brain. And this is a daily exercise in confronting and using that loneliness. 
Loneliness could have been tolerable if not for the prevailing sadness. But ironically, it appears as if this sadness is such a vital component of my existence that without it I wouldn't be what I am today. I don't want to be lonely but I can't function the way I should if my situation was otherwise. 
So, can anyone take the sadness away?
Yes, but not permanently. Like a ferris wheel, life would never be without its ups and downs. We can't stay too long in one condition, for we risk getting too familiarized with it that in time we are likely to take it for granted. That's one of the downsides of being human. When we are exposed to one facet far too long, we become blind to its reality. Like they say, you can't have too much of a good thing. When we look at it, the same idea also holds true for its counterpart. Maintaining our equilibrium necessitates that we be exposed to both the good and bad. 

As 2009 Draws to a Close...

I know...I know...I've been such a pathetic blogger. No matter how I try to elucidate it no explanation would suffice to excuse my prolonged absence from the blogosphere. If I point the finger at those blasted voices that always got the better of me, the blame would still be on me, right? Right. 
Being a messed up perfectionist is never easy. Despite my desire to just let myself write freely as the thoughts come, those voices at the back of my head always won me over. Beleaguered with my burdening affinity with details, the first concern that rings loudly in my consciousness is that of making mistakes. As a writer and editor, foolproof and effective writing was, is, and will always be my foremost objective. 
Compared to the actual writing I do, blogging is considerably informal and needless to say, much less complicated. I know that grammar and all the overwrought rules surrounding it are not the be-all and end-all of writing. Style, on the other hand, is something inherent that could only be harnessed through persistent practice. What matters is the expression and the willingmess to allow that voice to just take over and spill forth in all its glory. Wow. How dramatic. 
But I was obtuse. I listened to those **** voices. 
As 2009 draws to a close, once again I find myself at a new yet all too familiar crossroad. New Year's eve has always been a major turning-point  in most people's lives: a time for evaluation of the past while eagerly anticipating the future. Lonely, dulled by the monotony of my droning existence, and unable to fulfill most of my plans for the past year, I am again confronted by this question: What am I going to do with my life?
To start off my rationalization. I shall contemplate on Bejamin Franklin's famous quote about the New Year:
Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man.
I have no real vices unless my occasional binge-eating(It strikes whenever I'm stressed out which is quite often actually) falls into this category. If it does, then I guess that is the only real vice I have long been struggling against but to no avail. In terms of being at peace with my neighbors, I do not have any real enemy save for myself. Why? The fact that I could not keep myself from hating my old man every time he lashes out at us due to his botched personality is the most powerful explanation behind my failure at being a good daughter and the best person I want myself to be..and this is why I consider myself my own worst enemy. Thus, I don't see myself as the better woman I should be. Sitting here before my netbook pondering about life, my life to be exact, 7 hours before the arrival of 2010, I could hardly glance at my own reflection. 
It's not enough that I have these undesirable flabs hanging out of my body, giving it that repulsive beehive shape. I have to be such a failure at managing my own temper and my life as a whole.

Yet I desperately want to be a better woman. Not just for myself but for the important people in my life. I'm not going to list down another batch of resolutions. All I am going to do is close my eyes. take a deep breath, and plunge in... I can't go on living life like this. I don't want to be shamed in front of God should the time come for me to show Him what I have made of the gifts He has given me. I am a lunatic with a messiah complex of sorts, but I only want to do what needs to be done: to forge ahead and do what is right. 
So no more elaborate planning and wishful thinking. It's about time I get my act together and start taking my life into my own hands. Change has to come. Change has to be embraced. So be it.

Must Sleep But Can't!

Because I should be up four and a half hours from now, I should be off to bed, right? But because I'm so addicted to these games, I can't force myself to stop(even if I must) until I've repapered the bathroom wall of my bathroom in Yoville and completed my pet's wardrobe at Pet Society. What is more, I feel excited and happy. 

(Picture courtesy of http://thepluginsite.com)


Why?


Well, a close friend I haven't heard from for more than 12 years(I think) sent me a message through facebook! But wait, as complex and dramatic as my love life had been, he is among the most unforgettable friends I've had although I've long recovered from the...Anyway, this is not the time for me to discuss what transpired between me, him, and another close friend whom I dearly miss up to this very moment! I've been trawling the net hoping to get in touch with them somehow, and it wasn't until recently that a common friend of ours suggested me as a friend via facebook that he managed to find me. To think that I've been wondering how to get in touch with him for months! 


One down, one more to go.  


Friends are treasures. Whatever happened many years back has long ended, and has become another part of my colorful life, a learning experience that molded me into the quirky yet oh-so-sensitive woman I am now.  

No Choice

My mind has been droning as usual. Going to work these days has been such a chore that I literally feel sick upon waking, thus I always end up contemplating on whether to drag my weary butt off to work or not. And since I have bills to pay(quite a hefty amount actually), I need not divulge what option I take most of the time. It's so obvious. But let me get this straight: I may have started to become lackadaisical toward my job, but it does not mean to say that I have totally abandoned my passion for writing and of course, art. No. Never. 


Even in the midst of finishing tasks at the office, fantasies still intrude every once so often. Absurd as it is, but while I'm head bent on finishing an article, thoughts of myself making my own illustrated novel flit in and out of my consciousness. Although it really bugs me when my concentration is interrupted, I could not keep my thoughts still. In between words, I would wonder how it would be like if I were in the midst of penning my story instead of trying to creatively present an otherwise boring topic using cleverly arranged words, so as to attract and hold my intended readers' attention. 


Because of the constant interruption, my steady flow of thoughts would eventually peter out until I find myself driven into a wall: unable to continue yet struggling in vain to pick up from where I left off(luckily, I still manage to wrap everything up without damaging the quality of my work). And now as I finish this post while battling the effects of the melatonin sleeping pill(natural and with hardly any side effects if I'm not mistaken) I took more than 45 minutes ago, I begin to wonder whether the chills would strike again and awaken me during mid-sleep. When that happens, I already know what to expect: that dreaded feverish feeling again overwhelming my senses, tearing me apart once more, forcing me to hastily choose between staying in bed or dragging myself to work for yet another droning day at the office. 


I have bills to pay, my life to support, and parents to help care for. With these on my shoulders, I do not think I really have any kind of choice to begin with. For now, maybe yes. But in the future...I'll just have to wait and see if fate would finally grant me the choice to turn things around for the better.

Picture courtesy of http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com

Not Here

Voices far beyond

Screaming, arguing, grieving

I hear not a word