Tag Archives: personal

Jolly

It’s that time of the year again. 

Since I lost my faith in organized religion and God himself, I have troubles celebrating anything that has something to do with it. I used to be religious. Not fanatic, but religious. I’ve been brought up surrounded by blind faith and superstitious beliefs. We dutifully recited the Holy Rosary each evening at six o’clock. I’d been tied up around the foot of a table whole night without supper for failing to memorize the Our Father prayer. I attended masses and offered flowers to deities. I had my first communion and confirmation. I’ve been baptized and heck, even married in the church, twice. 

For all that happened to me, I never blame anyone let alone God. I accepted everything without question. I thought my faith was the only thing that was constant in my life and my unshakable belief in the power of the Holy Almighty was something no one can take away from me. I imagined myself being imprisoned and having to choose between death or live by renouncing my faith and I was sure I will rather opt for the first anytime anywhere, till two years ago. Something happened that made me abandoned everything I was taught and live by all those years. There is no way back.

Now, we are this far again. The season to be merry, the time to be jolly and I am neither of those. But even if I didn’t lose my belief in God, I doubt if I am going to join the hysteria of masses during this period. I wrote about the reasons why a few seasons ago and if you have the time, you can read it here, here and here

What about you? Are you religiously celebrating the most celebrated time of the year? Do you still believe in God? How you hold on to your faith when everywhere you look you see the opposite of what you believe in? No, I’m not criticizing. Just showing interest. If you wish to share your thoughts I would love to hear them.

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Varnish

“No varnish can hide the grain of the wood; and that the more varnish you put on, the more the grain will express itself.” ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Or you can also say: put lipstick on a pig, put rouge on the corpse, making a purse out of a swine’s ear, putting a racing stripe on a … am I allowed to say it here? Probably not. Better leave it at that.

I think basically what Dickens wanted to say is: you can’t hide someone’s true nature. And I believe him. One’s genetic makeup is very hard to alter. Sure, surroundings, upbringing, experience and all those things could have an effect on someone’s innate nature but only on the surface, it cannot change what lies beneath. One’s inner essential nature will always come through sooner or later.

I’m not saying someone can be born a saint or evil and who can say what makes those people act a certain way. A basically good person can commit a grave offense out of desperation, necessity, passion, anger or whatever valid for that moment reason she or he might have but it doesn’t make them a bad human being automatically. You can almost see the genetic makeup of a person by his actions, the nature of their crimes, and how they react to a certain situation. Unplanned circumstances always provoke spontaneous reactions. And that’s when you can see how people truly are, by the way they handle crisis and surprises.

I remember breaking up with someone after accidentally observing his behavior towards others. It was a simple occurrence. We were aboard a public vehicle and the driver stopped to let an elderly passenger in. The person had a difficulty ascending the steps and my then boyfriend was sitting by the door. He could have easily extended his hand and help but he never did nor offered his seat to that person who was clearly having troubles to remain standing during that treacherous ride because of his advanced age. In the end, I gave up my place so the person could sit.

What happened was a revelation to me. My boyfriend was a gentleman. Caring, solicitous, respectful and sweet. To me he was. But to others, he could not care less. And that is something I cannot possibly accept. God knows what he gonna do later in the relationship when the cloak and dagger aspect of courtship is over. I decided I’ve seen enough and dropped him just like that. I believe I made the right decision.

What about you? Do you think I made the right decision?

I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject of genetic makeup in general if you care to impart your knowledge. Nothing too fancy or complicated, just your own truth and beliefs. It is always nice to hear other people’s input. I have learned so much that way.

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Snippet

My blog? Snippets of random thoughts, ideas, beliefs, opinions, views, hopes, dreams and fears. No chronological order, no labels, no category. Just pure feelings coming from the heart. It may be vague and irrational at times but always real, honest and true. This is me on a plate without embellishments and trimmings, take it or leave it. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea but I don’t know any other way. I can edit my words but not my thoughts and feelings. And even if I could I would not. What is the use of having a voice and your own corner if you can’t say what you want? It is like whispering in your own house, afraid somebody might hear you. No, I can’t do that. I will always adhere to common decency and approach each topic politically correct but I would not dilute my writings so it suits sensitive ears and weak minds. I will never apologize for being myself. I know the path to freedom is not the easiest path to traverse, I have been on it since day one. Lots of hurdles but I can’t go off course, that would mean lying to you and to myself. I would appreciate if you walk with me down this road but I would also understand if you can’t. Not everyone is cut out for this journey. I will always be grateful I have met you along the way. These random encounters taught me a lot about life. I will continue this expedition with an open mind and an open heart as always. Maybe we will meet again someday. Take care and see you around…

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Nest

“If I could reach for something brilliant, that would be the home which been denied to me and the presence of the peace I’ve never known.”

I put this phrase on the right sidebar of my homepage. I yada-yada-ya countless times about my roots being pulled out before they can even have a chance to settle and get hold and never having a contingency to grow and flourish in a familiar soil. I teared up when I heard someone on TV said: “A tree without roots is just a piece of wood.” Why? Because the subject of home and family are two major sensitive issues for me. Always been always will be.

I have experienced countless betrayal by blood and like I already said before, that is the most painful deception somebody could experience in a lifetime. The wounds never heal and continue bleeding. It is not easy to get over it. It hurts.

As you probably have already guessed by now, I am living on a foreign soil. I arrived here 30 years ago and I’m still here. Let’s face it, skin colour matters no matter what others say and want to believe. I can never be white and that brings circumstances. I will not bore you with the details. Besides, this post is not about that topic. It’s about hanging in a limbo, not here nor there. I don’t feel at home in my own country, I live here for too long I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t understand a lot of things and at times I find that their views in life are narrow and limited and like here people are prejudiced and judgmental. They can’t look beyond their beliefs and fixed ideas. I feel like a stranger in my own country. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I expect too much. Forgetting that cultures will always clash. But then again, what happened to open minds? I told you, I expect too much.

When I was still living with my ex-husband I had a constant feeling of being in a transit. I knew I had a final destination but where? Other times I felt that I was having a nightmare (and really it was) and going to wake up eventually but when? I did manage to escape but it doesn’t  mean I found a home. I’m still searching for it. In the process, I lost my children. They become estranged from me. The last time I have spoken to my daughter was almost two years ago. Again, it hurts. I am still trying to reconcile with the fact.

I often wonder if I will ever find a place I truly belong. A home which I can call my own and feel secure. Maybe what they say is true. That home is not a place but like hell is a state of mind. I don’t know.

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Droll

If it means quaint, odd, strange, queer, eccentric, outlandish, bizarre, whimsical, then that is me. Oh, I have my own unique brand of droll self-mockery also. I laugh when I feel uneasy, I laugh when I see something terrible or read about hardship and misery. I laugh when I don’t feel good and I laugh when I’m sad. I have a very dry sense of humour and I am pretty ironic. You can say I am a droll little girl.

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Riff

Did you ever hear the song “Beautiful in White?” If not, you’re lucky. This one is a torture. Worse than Mariah Carey or Björk (Yeah personal choices people, don’t get on your high horses) The song is flat and so annoyingly repetitive it drives me crazy.  This one phrase in particular: “You look so beautiful in white, you look so beautiful in white, you look so beautiful in whiiiiiiiittte….  If I am in prison and they want me to confess to anything, all they have to do is play this song 24/7 and I will probably end up hanging myself.

But you know what’s remarkable about music like these? They get trapped in your brain and stick with you for days playing that one particular part you hate the most. Catchy songs aren’t always good people. See for yourself if you don’t believe me.

Gingerly

I learned to be cautious when dealing with people. Coming from an isolated background with only my immediate family for companions in an environment where no one had to lie and deceive to impress, we grew up as naive honest individuals with no boundaries; thinking that everyone is like us: strong yet vulnerable, what you see is what you get.

I (we) learned the hard way. The experience turned my siblings into one of them and they never look back. Somehow I managed to escape. Don’t ask me how. All I know is I turned inward and in that way protected my core from contamination. I am still struggling to survive in this world where hypocrisy and falseness are greatly rewarded. 

I did try to belong. God knows I did. But being a copy of the majority doing the things I loathe and finding myself further and further away from the person I really am is a too high price to pay. I have chosen isolation once more. I’m still living there.

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Daily Prompt: Gingerly 

Express

Freedom of expression…

The right of every individual to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.

Sounds great right? How’s this translate in practice? Now, it is starting to get complicated. We all know that expressing your thoughts/yourself was never been easy, it is still not easy and it will never be easy as long as there are censorship, prejudiced and judgmental people who are stuck in their own ideas of what is and what is not and fond of putting others in boxes complete with labels. What the heck, you cannot even dress the way you want, come out the closet or choose a religion or political views without others riding your back. More so if we really are going to express our real uncensored thoughts. I wonder how many people say what they mean (and mean what they say) in daily life. In my experience not so many. And that’s why I am not popular. Mind you I know that there is a huge difference between being honest and being tactless and I would like to think that I am the first rather than the latter. At least I hope so.

Anything that associated with freedom (expression or other) is nothing but a myth in this world. Nobody is totally free. Think of mortgages, nine to five, duties, relationships, citizenships, religion, politics, anything and you will realize that freedom is just a fairy tale, a wishful thinking, an illusion; and freedom of speech, expression or whatever we want to call it falls in the same category. How can we express our thoughts and feelings out there when we can’t even say what we really think to our own spouses and relatives without fear of being an outcast? I know that people don’t tell their honest thoughts even to their best friends. Most of us are afraid of offending someone and nursing the greatest fear of being disliked. Image is all that matters for most. And don’t bother to deny it otherwise selfies and instagrams have never been created let alone become a hype. And before that, it is big houses (bigger than your neighbors at least) big cars, nice clothes expensive jewelry and private schools. You know the drill.

I wonder also how much truth there is in images that people are trying to project to the outside world. Are they really an expression of their true selves or a shot in the dark of what they think others wanted to see. On the other hand, if you care enough to project whatever it is to the public, that says enough about you isn’t it? Acceptance is the key word I guess. Deep down inside we all want to belong, or to be acknowledged or otherwise why bother.

Whatever our own personal reasons for doing our version of self-expression, I’m all for that as long as nobody gets hurt, go for it. Express yourself to the world and have a blast while doing it. Don’t be different for the sake of being different. Just be who you are and the rest will follow. But be brave enough to stick to your own path no matter what because I can guarantee you the ride will be bumpy.

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Brave

Here’s to the ones who are not brilliant. Here’s to the people who question the very purpose of their existence, like I do. To the ones who feel like they do not belong, to the ones who feel they were born in the wrong century, in the wrong galaxy. Those who are full of insecurities, worries, doubts, and fears. Those who feel crippled with paranoia and trapped in a meat coated skeleton. There are people like you and me, equally messed up, their souls equally complex and bruised. They too spend Sunday afternoons gazing at clear blue skies, trying to connect to their real self, looking for something to free them, to save them, waiting for miracles while sipping coffee. These people too are lost like you and me, their minds wandering aimlessly through forests and alleys, and places and countries, hoping to make sense of their own existence, hoping to be significant. Trying desperately to love themselves with the self-love they are told is the only cure, but failing miserably, horribly. So, on those evenings when your body and soul seem like two separate entities when you feel exiled from the home within your own heart. Know, I have been there too and it will be okay, it will get better. It has to, right?

― Kopal

What-is-mindfulness

Daily Prompt 

Fraud

…that’s how I feel when someone gives me compliments and praises my abilities and achievements. I feel like a fraud, a pseudo, I don’t have so much belief in myself. I find that my capabilities are nothing to praise about. They are ordinary, common, anyone would be able to do them if they really want. I am not special, I am not unique. Most of the time I feel like a fake. What do you know, I can rhyme!  Even that is not noteworthy. Even children can do that. The easiest form of poetry I find. And haiku, they are easy to fabricate also. I’m sure you know the drill. What I’m talking about anyway. My life is the opposite of who and what I am. I’m masquerading through the days convincing myself that this is what I want even though my brain is shouting: “No, it’s not!” It’s for the best then I reason and on paper, and at first glance, it really is only it doesn’t feel that way and I find myself sinking deeper and deeper each day. Fading, till I am barely recognizable even to myself. Am I unhappy? What is that? First I have to know what happiness is before I can separate the two from each other. All I know is something doesn’t feel right. Like an itch that you cannot locate but it is definitely there somewhere and it’s driving you crazy. And there is this emptiness, a void that keeps getting bigger and bigger as the days, weeks, years pass by. My whole life is a fraud, not real, a fake, a pseudo of what I imagine or would like it to be. And I don’t know what to do to change that.

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