Tag Archives: musing

The view

I may have a Gothic view of life, but I’ve never been a pessimist. It took me this long to realize it but you know what they say… better late than never. Today, I marked the beginning of a new year for me; the year I discovered other sides of my personality, the hidden truth within the real self. Life is a never ending learning process indeed.

All my life, I have believed that I was a pessimist. Sitting here in the front of the computer  I suddenly realized that is not true, exactly the opposite in fact. I found out that over and over again in the course of my existence, when everything seemed hopeless; times when I encountered walls and there seemed to be no way out, dead-end wherever I turned; those were the moments when I painted doors and windows to look out. And beyond that, I created meadows, fields, hills, beaches forest oceans, mountains and rainbows. I did it to have something to look at, to hope for.

When everything seemed lost, I made escape routes; paths to tomorrow, because I could not accept defeat, I cannot just stop and accept. There has to be a way out somehow, always… and I will find it no matter what.

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Wednesday Treasure

It was at that very moment, that I realized I couldn’t force the flowers to bloom. I couldn’t force the clouds to part or the rain to cease. I could never go back and I hadn’t the capacity to leap forwards. I understood what they meant when they said, “Patience is a virtue.”

I had succumbed to the “no day but today/life’s too short” attitude and turned it against me. I suppose it might be better for me to say that it turned me against time. Time became the enemy ‒ I was in a race against the clock. If life is too short and there’s no day but today then I’m not waiting for anything. I saw no utility in waiting for love, in investing time to cultivate something that you may never see to fruition. What if I spend all of my time today building something for tomorrow and I die tonight?

But then again, if there’s no day but today and life is too short why am I wondering about “what if’s”? If it brings me joy to wait for love, to invest in something that I may never finish, then I have brought value and worth to the only gift that I truly have ‒ the now.

The beauty of flowers is that they bloom in their own sweet time, and sunny days are beautiful because we know rain. And rain can be beautiful because we know the joy of sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, or walking through a storm on a hot summer’s day.

Because we can make inferences about the future, we do and I’m not sure if succumbing to the present moment will obliterate my tendency to look forwards. In fact, I know that it can be useful to plan for the future but having the patience to not wish it before its time is of crucial importance. Get the camera ready but the flowers are going to do it on their own terms, not ours. Invest in love that may never happen, but if it’s supposed to happen it will happen on its own terms, not ours.

Have I been so afraid of being wrong that I had given up on faith? If I didn’t believe in something and it never happened, then at least I’d be right ‒ was that my mentality? Instead of putting my faith in something, waiting, having patience, and then having it never happen or worse having the opposite happening?

But at that very moment, I disregarded my ego. I called a truce with time. I stopped trying to control the forces that controlled me. I yielded my life to higher plans and experienced a taste of freedom, knowing I would have to consciously achieve that state every day to find peace of mind…

(Disclaimer: I found this note among my documents. I have no idea where it came from but I like it nonetheless so, I am sharing it with you)

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Escape

“Writing let me escape. It let me escape the insistent tug of my family, its ongoing misery and the reality of the world outside. Writing is like slipping into the ocean, where I could move easily, where I could be nobody and anybody, visible and invisible all at once. Sitting in front of the computer, with the screen blank and the cursor blinking, is the best escape I know.”

~ good in bed

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Sometimes…

Sometimes I give up…

Sometimes I just sit back, and wish I was someone else, living another life.

I just feel that I can’t take any more.

I have tried so hard to understand, to accept, to agree, and to move on from the pain, 

but it’s like a great weight, pulling me back, holding me down, and engulfing me.

I sometimes wonder what the point is in trying to sort things out, 

given that I have to fight tooth and nail sometimes to be heard. 

It would be so easy to run away to disappear to not be seen from, or heard from again.

Deep down I know I won’t be missed.

Deep down I know that I didn’t matter.

 

Sometimes I think that life is getting better,

and yet there is this gaping wound that is not healing.

I don’t know how to face it,

but I know that I will be facing it alone.

 

I sometimes I wonder where my friends are,

and what happened to all the people I have know and loved.

I sometimes wonder why they are gone from my life,

and if it was my fault.

 

Sometimes I just wonder if I think to much,

if I’m caught in a cycle of self reflection,

that ultimately has trapped me into feeling self loathing,

and self doubt.

 

I sometimes wonder if I have ever loved at all,

or did I just pretend so that I could feel love.

Maybe I don’t have the capacity to love,

or be loved.

 

Sometimes I wonder if I will smile and laugh again.

If my spirit will fly free and soar,

or will I spend the rest of my days alone,

trapped in an isolated self-created prison,

to which I no longer have the key,

or the understanding to escape.

 

I sometimes just wonder why,

but know that road leads to madness and insanity.

Still, they are better company than loneliness.

They are much better company than fear.

 

Sometimes I wonder if it’s all a dream,

and if one day I will wake up and find out that I am someone else,

and that I have another life.

The truth is sometimes just too painful to bear.

 

I sometimes wonder what happened to the dreams I had,

and the future I once wanted,

I wonder what happened to the life I once had.

Sometimes I think I must have dropped it along the way,

or put it down somewhere and forgot about it.

 

Sometimes I wonder why I believe that things will get better,

when the reality is that belief is fleeting.

What I want, what I need is a moment that I can believe in,

that I can hold on to,

and worship when the darkness comes.

 

I sometimes just wander,

and try to loose myself in a memory,

anything to escape the dreadful certainty that my time has gone past,

and that I missed the sign pointing me the right way.

 

And sometimes, just sometimes I believe that tomorrow just might be a better day…

-Mh

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Music In My Heart

What are the tree songs that most important in my life? Well, there is none. I wonder if there is really one that is important to someone like I understand what important is.

To me there are songs that bring back memories, a certain place, some special someone, a time in your life, even food (in my case it’s always been like that- no not food; I have love-hate relationship with food- all the songs that I like are connected to the past and indeed bring back a lot of memories for the rest I hate listening to music, to me they are noises) there are those that seem specially written for you and you alone, songs which every word spells your life front and backward, your sorrow, your pain, longing, desires and experiences. I have those too. If I have to give three it would be My Way by Ole Blue eyes, I’ve Never Been To Me by Charlene and I Am A Rock by Simon and Garfunkel. How about that for going literal? (har har)

How about theme songs? In my country theme songs are quite the thing for lovers. Not knowing or failing to remember what your theme song is can lead to relationship break up especially with teenagers and young adults. Not having a theme song can affect your popularity within your circle of friends. It means your beau is not really serious with you or otherwise the two of you have a theme song already.

First dance… my best friend first dance and right away become the theme song of her and her husband (yes they are both Caucasian. Surprise?) is probably the most popular song of the band Chicago, you guessed it right, If You Leave Me Now. She owned a café and he was one of the regulars. One night when the place was almost empty, they danced to that tune. They are married for almost forty years now.

Wedding march is arguably the most significant use of music in one’s personal life. You’re marching to another phase of your life, in some culture not only for better or for worse but forever as well. You see in my country there is still no divorce. Whether you and your other half keep to the promise or not years later, ones wedding march can never be forgotten that easily. Whenever you hear that music, you can either say: I marched to heaven or hell with that song.

That’s it. My twenty minutes of free writing is up and I have to stop here. Posted this piece the way it is in accordance to the rules meaning without correction. Ciao!  

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Close, But No Cigar

Tell us about a time things came this close to working out… but didn’t. What happened next? Would you like the chance to try again, or are you happy with how things eventually worked out?

Way back in the year 2000, I’ve been to a place where there were only fifty houses and all of the inhabitants family; either by blood or by marriage. One had to walk four kilometres just to buy bread, but it was always a pleasant walk because we were accompanied by constant sounds of the nearby streams and the divine smells of coffee flowers; it was like a dream. A dream that lasted three months.

The thing I remember the most about the place was the rain. It always rain. Not the rain we or I normally know of. It was like there was typhoon every day. The people there laughed at me because for them it was normal. The place was between two mountains, hauling wind and torrent were nothing but a part of their daily existence.

That was also the time I considered to settle down and get married. My dream was to own a nipa hut by the creek surrounded with flowers, keep some pigs and chickens, have a baby boy who smells good and a husband who comes home in the evening from working in the mountains bearing a whole banana bunch and carrying a big bolo tied around his middle. Then he will look at me with undisguised desire in his eyes and you can fill in the blank. I did, still do from time to time. Silly I know but…

There was the perfect place, together with the perfect someone who made me realized that “peaceful” was/is good enough reason to consider tying down with someone. Close, but unfortunately no cigar. Our worlds are too far apart. It was heaven at that moment but reality is different. I went home and he stays.

I was for a time devastated. So much so that I wrote a book about it and a sequel on how I dream or want the story, our story to develop. In book two, I let go of myself; I poured my heart out, my desire, my longing onto the pages. Those dreams reside now in a shoe box inside the closet. Never seen by any other pair of eyes but mine.

Would I like the chance to try again? The answer is no. I have other priorities now, other goals, different desire.

Am I happy with how things eventually worked out? Yes and no. Yes because what I have now is quite similar but upgraded minus the pigs and chickens. It’s also peaceful. In fact, too much of it sometimes it drives me crazy. No, because the passion that was there in my previous life is missing and I’m a very passionate person; but I know in life we can impossibly have everything…

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Possessions

I always think there is too much stress placed on possessions.  They don’t bring happiness, not even comfort. Some of the most contended people I know live in  cottages no bigger than rich people’s garages, but they keep a good table and a glowing hearth; they have a good quantity of bedding and crockery, a patch of vegetables garden and a few hens, and it is as if they owned the earth; they seem to want for nothing more.  Once you start acquiring, the impulse becomes a habit. I should know… 

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Reflection

She’d put up some sort of mental curtain and she had always thought it was strong but she didn’t know for sure. Certainly there were holes in it and if you look through them you run the risk of seeing things in purple haze. Beyond that you maybe don’t want to see. It’s better not to look, just as it is better not even to glance at yourself in the mirror…

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Ironing

I always let myself be distracted by small details, the troubles that can fill any day, any week, if you let them. I neglect to sit back and enjoy the overall experience. I keep thinking that once this and that is repaired and this is solved and that is explained, then I can sit back and relax, savor the air, the scent of roses. As if life were a garment that had to have every minute wrinkle ironed out of it, that had to be perfectly smooth before it could be worn. Knowing that nothing is ever perfectly smooth…

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Over The Edge

Someone said to me that only those you truly (love) care about can drive you to the brink of insanity. I disagree. Even random strangers, co-workers, neighbours, people in the streets, bosses, supermarket clerks, authorities, door-to-door salesmen and religious visitors; the government and the ones on the news can drive anyone raving mad at some point. And drivers on the road. Especially drivers on the road… Oh, Lord! Please don’t make me start with that. 

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Running Back

I found this among my old documents while cleaning my storage. It sounds like me but I don’t remember anymore if I wrote this one. So, I googled some of the words and came up with nothing. I visited places I frequented before and searched there but still nothing. I ‘m posting it here anyway. If someone recognized this article and have a legit proof it is theirs or from someone they know, just howl and I will give proper credit to the owner.

I’ve been told by others that all I have to do is stay in line

Don’t shock or rock the boat too hard

And all would be well with or without my help.

 

I’ve heard some say that it’s easy to just punch the clock

Just take it and give it but don’t make a fuss

And always say ‘I’m sorry’ when there’s nothing to apologize for.

 

I was advised to be easy, that ‘hard to get’ is not anymore in

And that boys really don’t appreciate a psychotic tease and

It’s all right to f–k if you’re in love (or if he’s filthy rich or on the way up).

 

I tend to lose focus, though

On the things that is important, like the politics of advancement,

Of smiling at the right people

And the politeness of stabbing others in the back.

 

I missed what was said on letting it all hang out

Because I was too busy stuffing it back in with the help of wonder bra(s)

And figure forming lycra contraptions

While eating McDonalds and drinking Diet Coke.

 

I am still convincing myself to turn a blind eye on everything,

Because I was befuddled about what was right and what was wrong

And why we do it in the name of gods, demons and lovers.

 

I can’t see it or hear it clearly like you do.

But some days I do

And it’s never pleasant

Especially when I’m alone and the vacuum cleaner is saying a lot of things.

 

So, I always run back here…

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