Friday, December 12, 2008

To the one I will love...

Every night when the moon starts to wax and until it reaches it's full, I never fail to look out my window wistful, thinking of you, the one I will love.

And at the same time, I am wondering if you are thinking of me.
Once or twice I thought I have found you, only to be splashed by the cold reality that my wait hasn’t ended yet.

I wake up each day hoping that this would be the day I would finally meet you.
Oftentimes I wonder how our paths would cross. Would it be as romantic as the ones I read in my cheesy novels?

Or could you be the guy in the train who was sitting across me on my way home?

Or is it possible that I already know you, but we have yet to realize that we are meant to be?

All these questions, I have no answers. And yes, frustration and disappointments seeps in

A number of times I am ready to give up, but the thought of finally knowing how it feels like to be in your arms, to look in your eyes and feel secure, to be able to laugh at your silly little ways, or how your smile and your annoying yet endearing quirks would put a smile of contentment on my lips.

All these keep me going and longing for the life I will spend with you.

I think of the pain and tears I’ve gone through in life and ask myself whether I am willing to subject myself to such lengths just to find you.

But deep in my heart, I know that you are worth all that pain and sacrifice.

I wonder if you have been through much pain as well? How many times have you been hurt along the way? Once, twice, or countless times?

Please, to you, the one I will love….don’t give up because I am right here, waiting……….
Patiently waiting to heal the wounds you might have had on your journey to reach my heart.
And before I say good night to the faithful moon and close the curtains of my window, I say a silent prayer…..

Wishing….hoping…that in time it would reach you. And in my moments of impatience,
I just close my eyes, heave a loud sigh and believe that you are on your way.

When I finally close my eyes to sleep, you enter my dreams as a faceless knight. It seems that for now it’s the only place where I get to be with you.

And these all the more, makes me want to wake up and face the day with the hope that you would no longer be just a faceless knight in a dream, but a reality.

My reality, my life…..

And to you, the one I will love, hold on to our dream. Never let go.

Believe that someday, when the right time comes God will help us to recognize each other.

Longingly yet patiently waiting,

The one who will love you.

Daddy...If Only

I was rummaging through the contents of an old shoe box which I sentimentally labeled as "My Prized Possession" when I come across a worn-out black and white photograph of a man boarding a plane.
Suddenly I was transported 20 years back down memory lane.....
It is a sunny day. But the atmosphere is gloomy. There are so many people and most of them are wearing either white or black. I am even wearing a pretty white dress.....

Perhaps it is my mom's crying, my sister's sobs and my brother's tears that contributed to its gloominess. Hey wait, everybody is crying. Lolo and Lola....and that elderly man who always call my dad "dodong" and that one standing next to him who always address dad as "Pare" have tears in there eyes. Everybody is so sad. Maybe that is the only reason why I started crying........

Growing up without a dad never dawned on me not until I reached high school. All my friends seem to have fathers. One would say "My papa bought this for me." Another one would say "Sorry guys I can’t stay late my dad says I need to be home by 10." My papa that, my daddy this.........And I was always like "My mama says..." Not that I’m complaining because my mother is the best. It’s just that something is lacking. I’m missing something...I even wondered how life would have been if only daddy were around.....

I often find myself staring at a father and daughter walking hand in hand every time I see a pair. How I envied them. And during Sunday meetings at our kingdom hall, when a daddy would carry off his little girl outside the hall and try to calm her of her childish tantrums....and as I follow them with my eyes, I wish...that even for just a brief moment I am that little girl. I have to blink my eyes and shake myself to wake me up from my daydream. A daydream wherein daddy would be giving me a huge bear hug, of penguin walks and long bicycle rides.
I thought I was the only one missing him. I did not realize that there is someone else who misses him much more than I do. Ever since I was a little girl, I have always slept beside my mama. And every night when she thinks I am fast asleep, she gently whispers my father’s name. I cry silently. I cry twice as hard, not for myself but for the woman who is longing for the only man she truly loves.............

Funny, how at one point my in life, all those missing, yearning, wishing and longing turned to hate. Yes, I had hated my father. I hated him for not being there for my mom and for leaving us behind, for not being amongst the crowd who were applauding for my achievements, for not being there to scrutinize a suitor, for not giving me a big fatherly hug when I needed one, for simply not being there! I hated him!

But looking back at that point in my life...I know that the hatred I thought I had was unfounded. Because deep in my heart I know, that the man a barely know have such a great impact in my life. And because of his sacrifices, I am who I am now...and where I am today. Looking back at the old photograph.......I say more to myself "I may not be the perfect daughter, but daddy, if only you are here, you would have been proud of me."

Tooot! Tooot! I’m back to reality. 1 message received. Mama. “How are you palangga? I love you..... “ Ahh, in spite of everything life is sweet..................

Pink Roses

A friend once asked me...”What color of rose do you like?” Without further ado I straight away say PINK. "Pink? Why pink?" he asked.

Well if I were to choose red it would be too sophisticated and elegant. It is too romantic and too beautiful. Reminds me of true love stronger than thorns...Too passionate... Definitely not me as of the moment.........

Yellow? Hmmm reminds me too much of Cory Aquino. Maybe because I have read somewhere that it signifies freedom. I have nothing against our ex-president, she is in fact the first woman Philippine President and the first woman president to have grace the cover of Time magazine. That’s something every Filipina could be proud of. Its just well yellow doesn’t become me.
How about white? Ahh, the symbol of purity and innocence...of love stronger than death, sincerity, silence as well as youthfulness. But is just about what every Jane and Mary would choose.

Ok blue then? I am only unique not rare. And blue roses are still rare occurrences for me. Every time I think of a blue rose.....its like asking for miracles, or remote possibilities...... I do wish of ever afters, but I'm practical.

So why pink? Because it’s never too daunting but it’s still sweet and dainty........
It’s about poetic romance combined with fun and light-heartedness. It is the rose of sweet thoughts and thank yous. It’s a rose of gratitude and appreciation of life.
Fuchsia? Too hard to spell...Peach, orange, lavender, burgundy, lilac.....

Oh well, whatever the color, all roses convey warmth and affection, but just leave me with my pink roses and I'm a happy woman.

Singapore Sling with Style

To officially end my friend’s five day visit in Singapore, we decided to do it in style. We donned on our hippest yuppie night out get up to somehow camouflage that in actual fact we are puppies (READ Poor Urban Professionals).

First stop, Marriot Hotel at the heart of Orchard Road for our authentic Chinese dinner. According to one Singaporean old timer friend that years ago before they transformed it into a buzzing shopping district, Orchard Road was really an orchard. Well so much for history lesson there off we go for our dinner. We conveniently took the MRT to reach the place. Why bother take a 5 dollar cab ride when you can reach there in a train for 70 cents, right? After dinner, my friend and I both agreed that the service was good and the food was great. Thanks to the vouchers I won during our company function, I was able to afford a pricey meal in a classy restaurant with a working girl’s salary. So after having drunk cup after cup after cup of jasmine tea over engaging conversation of bygone years, of high school memories, and new life and adventures, it was time for our next stop, Raffles Hotel for a taste of the famous Singapore Sling the Long Bar way.

As we stepped inside the bar, I could feel the cracking sound my footsteps are making. I looked down and said to myself: “The bar goers in this place are sure a messy bunch”. We opted to take the cozy nook in lieu of the long bar. After having ordered our Singapore slings, I nudge my friend and asked, “Why are there so many peanut shells scattered all over the floor.
“Well don’t ask me I’ve just been here for 5 days, you should know better after being here for over a year.” He replied. “I’m well at home at insomnia with its loud pinoy band you know, drinking SMB Pale Pilsen.” I retorted. Insomnia would be another story though ;-)

When our cocktails arrived, my friend managed with quite impressive finesse to ask the waiter why so many peanut shells are scattered all over the place. The waiter was more than willing to share us the story behind our mystery. According to him, the actual site where Raffles Hotel sits was a rubber plantation. When one walks in a rubber plantation his footstep would make crackling sound caused by the dried rubber tree leaves. Thus scattering peanut shells all over the floor would somehow relive the past.
As my friend become chummy with the waiter and managed to get a lot of free glass mat souvenirs, I began to survey the place with my eyes. My, it was packed with men in rolled long-sleeves and sophisticated women laughing, talking and simply having a good time. These very same men and women would be doing history-making financial decisions tomorrow, or they could be on their way to New York or London perhaps to close million dollar deals.
With no intention of eavesdropping (hehehe) I strained my ear to hear what their conversations are. Well if they are powerful men and women making million dollar decisions everyday, I might pick up a tip or two in how to break the glass ceiling.
When I finally make out what they were talking about, a smile of amusement spread across my face. Corporate suits discussing life’s mundane little things over a glass of Singapore Sling. Now that’s what I call “Style”.

Nice Girls

This is my tribute to all the nice girls I know and will come to know. You know the ones I’m talking about, the strong, sensible, reliable girls. Maybe they are smart, maybe they’re not. Maybe they’re pretty or maybe not. But they are the ones you cannot help but like. They do responsible things. They edit the school paper and organize the prom. They are the ones who laugh loud and often. They are comfortable wearing skirts, sweats or rubber shoes.

This goes to the girl who won’t let you down. Who gives you what you need, when you need it. Who helps you with your homework, who provides a comforting hug and lends a listening ear for a story she has heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who are often overlooked and who most of the time become the guy’s best friend and nothing more.

This one goes for the girl who hasn’t been in love, but knows that it’s an experience she doesn’t want to miss out. This is for the girl who has been told that she is too good, too smart or too pretty. Is this a lame excuse of a guy wanting to break a relationship? Beats me…..

This is for the girl who accepts she’s not perfect, but knows she deserves something better. This is for the girl who is not seeking for Mr. Perfect but waiting for Mr. Just Right for Me. For the girls who have heard all the trite words of wisdom of well-meaning friends…. From “women are like apples, the good ones are high up in the tree not taken, men are scared they might fall when the try to reach them” to “there are plenty of fish in the ocean” down to “time heals all wounds”, ladies this goes to all of you.

This is for the girls who subtly flirt, and laugh, and worry over the slightest glance, a smile or a touch, because she hopes that maybe……maybe this time he has finally noticed. This is for the girls who have spent sleepless nights analyzing every word he has said, every inflection in his speech trying to find for that glimmer of hope. This is for the girls who try to make someone understand through an appealing profile and time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint, only to see him in someone else’s arms.

I pay homage to the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes shattered by someone too callous enough to care. For the girl who has allowed a guy into her head and heart and bed, only to discover that he is not ready to be tied down. For the girl who has faced all the pain, disappointment and tears but has never become bitter. She puts on her lipstick and struts in her 3-inch heels ready to brighten your day with her laughter, wit and charm.

So what happens to these nice girls? Nothing dramatic….. They still do the ordinary things in their own extraordinary ways. They still listen to their male friends whine, question and complain why they never meet nice girls. They still try to understand their male friends who wonder why the world lack girls who are compelling and genuinely interested, smart, sweet and charming…..

Oh well, they say women are complex but so are men.

Cool Off

I can’t really recall how we started, or how we get to click. I’ve known him since childhood, he has always been around. Maybe it was circumstances that pushed us together. Senior year in college was tough. Long nights, tight project deadlines and whirlwind social activities. He kept me awake during those long nights; he relieves my tension as I rushed for a deadline. And so there he was, just being around every time I need a good boost. I guess that’s how our romance started.

Even after college, when I joined the ranks of the “employed”, we never lost touch. In fact the relationship deepened. Just to be near and being able to smell him perks up my mornings. And day by day, my longing for him has grown. I’m no longer content with our morning rendezvous. I must have my afternoon and evening moments with him to make my day complete. If a day passes by without him, I get a splitting headache and can be quite cranky. And every time I talk to mom, she never fails to give a litany of why I should give up this obscure addiction. So then, I realized that I was not just “in love”. I was totally, completely hooked.

Cliché as it may sound, but Mother knows best. I can see my obsession on him has affected my health. I have sleepless nights, and dark circles around my eyes the next day. My concentration span has gone rather short. I’d rather do routine work than think of logical programming solutions (goes with the job description). So with all the resolve I can muster, I say to myself “I must put an end to all these!”

It’s been a month now since I’ve gone cold turkey on Mr. Coffee. I still get cravings for a good cup of joe and the aroma of java beans still warms me inside out. But for now, I must say no until I learn self control. I’m sure my love affair with coffee isn’t over yet….perhaps we just need time away from each other..

Testing the waters…of the ocean called Blogging

Why am I blogging here?

2 months ago, I was suffering from burn-out. Why I say so? Well I have manifested most of symptoms that according to experts are sure signs of burn-out.

Symptom number 1) Low energy level or chronic tiredness. After 8 full hours of good night’s sleep, I still wake up feeling sluggish.Now what can you say about that? Definitely burn-out

Symptom number 2) Decreased attention, concentration, or ability to think clearly. Oh well, nothing as dramatic as being hit by a speeding automobile because I did not bother whether it’s the red man or the green man flashing from across me. It’s just as mundane as not completing my reports because I kept messing up with my SQL statements and if I haven’t got my act together could only mean losing my job, which means I won’t be receiving my pay check, which would mean, that I would have no money to pay for rent or buy food and would mean me having to sleep in some bench in the park and that my dinner would mean waiting for unfinished meals in hawker centers (translation - carinderia)…so you see, nothing dramatic.

Symptom number 3) Pain in the back or neck. I guess I am not exaggerating when I say my boss is a "pain in the neck", because 2 months ago it is literally true. (She doesn’t read blogs, does she? Hope not!!!)

But it’s not my purpose to enumerate the signs and symptoms of burn-out, which I think so far, I have successfully done. But nuf said of that……….

So why am I here? Because I have practically nothing to do! Thanks to the fact that our project is finally over and mind you it’s a total disaster which lead me to saying that "Life is cruel". Alright, in my almost 3 decades of existence, I know for a fact that life does sting, but it was another reaffirmation of that fact. But then again the gory details of why I came up with this declaration would be in another blog. Well, back to the topic at hand. (Why do I have a feeling that I am manifesting symptom number 2 again?).

Wow, in just a few sentences in my blogging, I have come up with this hypothesis that burn out has similar manifestations as BORED OUT. Interesting…….
Hmmmm…I might enjoy blogging after all. =)

Until the next blog or my rice bowl will fly out of the window
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...