Losing Respect...But

Just as I was getting comfortable, I felt the urge to leave again. The bubble of respect in which I have encased myself for quite some time now has burst. As the underlying secrets began to unfold before me one by one, I felt myself gradually losing every good expectation or attribute I had associated with.... At first I thought I had lined myself up with distinguished people--hard-working, talented individuals, worthy of being emulated for their passion and dedication in their work. I had toiled scrupulously so as not to lag behind them, thinking that they were deserving of esteem and admiration for their intellectual prowess, honesty, and credibility as... But what started as a tiny, excusable crack made by one slacker was followed by another, lengthening the crack, making it bigger and longer still that it wasn't long before it split  in every direction, forming a complicated web of hairline cracks that became more pronounced as the days wore on. Until the day finally came that the whole bubble was nothing more than a deplorable orb swathed in cracks, leaking throughout, trembling from the pressure of unanswered questions and bottled emotions that accumulated on top of the already thinned respect which had built it in the first place. Then as expected, it burst. Just like that.
Oh, well...But hard times demand for practicality. Emotions, no matter how overwhelming, would not pay the bills or feed my family. I must not be too hasty. I have already learned from experience the importance of balancing reality with my idealism. Emotional as I still am, I know better now than to let my heart override my reasoning. Pain has been an excellent teacher. After having been humbled and bent this way and that, I can say to myself that I have now mastered containing the destructive side of that creative fire which fuels me as an artist in both the visual and literary sense. Furthermore, I have learned to transform its destructiveness to something constructive and advantageous. Something very substantial and concrete that I can use to forward my ambitions. But...
For now, I am biding my time. Better to focus more intensely on sharpening my literary skills than entertain thoughts of working elsewhere...after having given my resignation that is. What do I care about slackers and cheaters? It isn't my duty to salvage their sorry asses. At their age, they should already know what consequences await them. I can be very selfish, too. However, I would use it because I love myself. And because I love myself, I would never want to see myself get swallowed up by my own frustrations and disappointments. So...
I would keep my silence and move on, as though I am still oblivious to what is going on around me. As though I didn't care. If they do not give a damn about their reputation that they wouldn't lift a finger to resuscitate themselves, why should I trouble myself? We can remain friends. After all, their attitudes towards their work is totally separate from how they truly are as friends or even just acquaintances for that matter. And...
Life goes on. I move on. They move on. We plod on as we stay in the imagined safety of our separate little worlds, apart from each other's idiosyncrasies and whatever. And now that this ranting is over, I continue with my journey for which I am fortunate to be required  to extract every ounce of potential and energy I've got. 

Emergency Self-Talk 1

There is no telling what would happen next at the office. After the sad farewell last night, as we have learned that some of our colleagues had been retrenched, I nervously anticipate the precarious developments that would take place in the coming days. I can't be too sure about my hunch. For all I know, it could be otherwise than what I had predicted. But the looming dread and uncertainty are no excuses for shirking my responsibilities. Busy as a bee...Busy as a strait-laced, obnoxious, obese bumblebee...

In confronting my boss before our Christmas vacation, he had not confirmed the dissolution of our division that we so feared. But...Can I really count on his words? Haven't they just removed the people whom they have informed will be trained for new positions?

So many fucking questions but not a single answer. Too many possibilities but not even a glimpse of what is to come. And through it all, I can't let the uncertainty overwhelm me. Never. Today is as good as any other day to keep one's composure and sensibility. 

The best antidote for this nagging anxiety and discomfort would be to immerse our heads completely in our tasks. Now is not the time to bum around. Given the delicate situation we are in, we should exert more effort and complete our work to the best of our abilities. But does this messed up head of mine really need such adjustments? Since when have I been a slacker, anyway? In using my good judgement, I think it best to just proceed with my work as I always have. Being a natural tight-ass, this is the best time to take full advantage of my severity and obsession with excellence. I just have to loosen up a bit when it comes to my personal standards. That is the only adjustment I have to make(lest I want to drive myself crazy that is). 

"Just relax and have confidence in myself."
"Relax and sail through the day as scrupulously as I have always done."
"Everything is going to be just fine." 


Keep me in your light
Out of the grasp of madness
Away from the fire

Return to Reality in 2010

How fast time flies. I can't believe the five-day vacation is over. Tonight, I return to the same reality I have had for almost a couple of years now: the daily 8-hour grind. Wasn't it only yesterday that I was eagerly anticipating the coming holiday vacation? The anticipation seemed long, even torturous, as I dragged my weary butt to the office and forced my overtaxed mind to produce reasonable ideas worthy of being put down on paper or published online for that matter. I couldn't contain my excitement the minute I succeeded in finishing my usual tasks, which became several times more arduous than they are. When one's thoughts have already shifted to vacation mode, lethargy in anything and everything concerning work is expected. But now, I have no choice but to contend with the fact that we would not be having our long vacation for 2010 until April or late March(for drones like me a 2-3 day vacation is long enough). Funny, although I know that I still want to spend a little more time farting around at home, half of me is excited about going back to work tonight. Strange, isn't it? The five day vacation has somehow made me miss my immaculately clean workstation and my stuffed pets(which I used to adorn it) at the office. Also, I cannot deny that I miss resuming the routine tasks that have eaten up a good chunk of my time for almost two years now. Alright then. That settles my post for today. And since I have to wake up earlier than usual, so I can take the bus and save money on fares, I might as well call it a day and turn in. 

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.