|
What??? There is no flooding???
|
Dec 18, 2011 6:14 pm
1164 Views
|
Where is the rain? I mean the gifts? (har har) it is because of global economic crisis, that the space under most Christmas trees around the world is less crowded than usual? (btw most shopping streets and department stores as well)
Personally despite of decreasing value of euro in foreign exchange market and the recent incident in Liege/Luik (don’t tell me you didn’t hear? Shocking!) and the boy who disappeared on his way home leaving one of his shoe, shawl, mittens and his bike on the side of the street; I am trying to be optimistic. After all, I’m ending up this year with no balance in any of my credit cards, all the bills are paid as well and I will have a grand vacation; what more a girl could possibly ask? (I know a lot more) but I wonder how that boy can walk home in this blasted weather with just one shoe. Wherever he is, he must be freezing cold. I’d like to think that he found all the missing children and they are having a bonfire on the beach or sitting around a campfire somewhere in the forest planning their journey home for Christmas.
How about the family of those victims in Liege, Oslo and everywhere where similar accidents happened? I bet they are asking why? Mind you, if I’m going to lost my children I rather it happened that way than someone take and torture them for days, subjecting them to unspeakable acts eventually ending their lives when the captor become bored and bury them under his own house; no sir! Give me accidents anytime, at least I can see the body and have a decent burial.
I cried when I saw the picture of that missing college boy. He looks an all around typical teenager from a middle class family.
I cried when i saw in the news another student being attack in train station full of people (which did nothing to prevent the assault) while just sitting there waiting for his ride minding his own business. And before you know he is being thrown from the second floor on the very tracks rendering him paralized for life and blind. In the news they call him lucky(???) because he's alive(?) I am having nightmares since then, the way I had series of it when James Bulger’s case first came on TV. I guess anyone who has children will be having nightmares about what’s happening around us lately.
I know some will say everything happens for a reason (I say it too occasionally) or God works in mysterious ways, but I can’t find any reason why must a 16 years old board a tricycle never reached home ended up in the dit-ch few weeks after in a garbage bag bounded by electric cable hands and feet, r-aped and be-aten and bore marks of st-rangulation around the neck. I cannot see any God’s mysterious ways in that, not to mention celebrating Christmas.
I miss my pink piggy bank around this time of the year. I miss the time having less and not asking for more and not scared of losing anything because there is nothing to lose.
And I’m tired. I’m tired emotionally, physically and psychologically.
I’m tired of not being able to educate my mother about hygiene. I’m tired of seeing her handprints on everything! Doors have handles for a reason, cabinets too. I am trying to understand her thinking: okay, she never had a proper house since she marry my father; but so did I growing up. I’m tired of going to Christmas parties because I have to; celebrating lukewarm if not freezing parody of supposed to be the most joyful season.
I’m tired thinking what I could serve on my own festive dinner that would satisfy my son who is a fussy eater and an inborn vegetarian who has a fashion for fungi. My daughter is much easier to cater for, she will devour anything I cook and so is D who can eat the entire menu and a lot more without gaining much needed pounds. His mother is trying to eat healthy in order to have room for buckets of booze, sweets and chocolates with her gallons of unsweetened herbal teas.
My mother… my mother prides herself by being small eater which she does on purpose because although she doesn’t looks like it, she is the vainest person I know. The father of D is easy to please, all you have to do is serve expensive alcoholic beverages and he will be in 7th heaven. And myself? Well, I have my own special diet because of zillion of things. I’m tired of that too.
Tired of seeing bad things happening to good people without apparent purpose or reason. Tired of worrying about this and that and people who don’t understand which normally I don’t mind only if they don’t bother me with it.
Tired of trying to prove to people that despite of my ethnicity and colour of skin I know what I’m talking about and can do what they can and probably a lot more if they can see through the package.
But I will gladly keep being tired if only those missing kids will find their way home unharmed. If only their numbers are not climbing higher each year. If only good people get a chance and bad ones to burn in hell. If only there is not so much injustice in this world, I will gladly be exhausted and done with. Only if…
|
|
|
47
Comments
|
|
|
singles
|
Nov 26, 2011 4:25 am
1685 Views
|
Is it really that difficult to find someone? The answer probably is no, it isn’t. This planet of ours is crawling with all sorts of possibilities. It is so easy to think that all one has to do is walk out there and choose.
But when I look at statistics and listen to people, read blogs of singles on dating sites and hear their experiences, I can only conclude that finding a partner is almost next to impossible.
Sometimes, it amazes me to see pictures of lovely independent capable seems intelligent enough ladies who are singles and having difficulty finding their other half. And on occasions, I have opportunities to talk to these women and I’m always baffled with how they are and what they got to offer and I ask myself: why? What’s wrong with these women? Why they cannot find suitable partners?
Oh, I know about choosy, picky, high standard ones because I am one myself.
But I’m talking about ladies who have ordinary demands and sober enough expectations, the ones who are willing to make compromises in exchange of real feelings and long lasting relationships. I’m talking about girls who are girlfriends and wife materials, the uncomplicated sweet simple caring undemanding kind, not some b!tchy lunatic gypsy weirdo who is very much attach to her personal freedom like me. The ones who are supposed to be what every man is looking for, but seems doesn’t want. What’s wrong with these single ladies?
Or I am supposed to be asking what the matter is with the men instead? (oh, I know there is another side for every coin)
Perhaps stumbling unto someone is indeed easy, but the chance of meeting the right person who is suited to you is quite another thing.
And if that relationship is going to work, stand the test of time and will end up in happily ever after is another story altogether.
I am nowhere near expert on this topic, not only for lack of interest but also out of lack of experience. I don’t know what makes the men ticks and I don’t care either. I don’t give a damn if they stay or go faithful or not or if they fancy me or never look at me, they can do whatever they wish as long as they don’t bother me and not fooling me behind my back, it is good enough. There are a lot of things I rather do than keeps busy with how their minds work.
I wrote this article out of natural curiosity about people in general, sort of thinking out loud while waiting for D to get out of the shower so we can have dinner.
So, I think it safely to conclude that there are indeed billions of people out there but in the end it all comes down to one.
But…where is the one?
|
|
|
57
Comments
|
|
|
conventional me
|
Nov 21, 2011 8:19 pm
1031 Views
|
I do believe that I am suffering from a mild case of slight peculiarity
This I do find greatly distressing.
Indeed, far from being vaguely odd,
It merely tars me with the same characteristics as that of the mundane multitude,
Whom are the normality.
A greater insult I could not possibly fathom.
Do not, I beg you, take this as an offence,
It’s merely that I had always revelled in the delightful assurance that I was what they call,
“unique”, “individual, “abnormal”.
But to learn that this solid truth which I once held so dear is no more than a fallacy?
That is an incredible blow!
How can I ever again look down on the popular masses?
How can I ever again look the truly strange in the eye?
Is there even a faint glimmer of hope?
Alas, my last resort.
I shall endeavour to be what people refer to as
“dull”, “boring” “ordinary”
Yet this prospect fills me with much intense excitement!
Oh, and it is a struggle to contain!
However, contain it I must, so as not to shatter the illusion,
The thin veil that separates me from the sheep of the world.
Please welcome the incredible
The amazing,
The most utterly wonderful,
Brand spanking new,
Conventional me!
~jennie
|
|
|
4
Comments
|
|
|
Merry Christmas!
|
Nov 16, 2011 8:24 pm
2387 Views
|
… just kidding! It is still more than a month away but it’s the nearest holiday coming and the last for this year so why not? But wait a minute… we have Saint Nicholas Day on the 6th of December.
It is Europe’s equivalent of Santa Claus. Children put shoes (as opposed to stockings) in front of the chimneys with carrots in it for the horse of the holy man. In exchange they will find presents in the place of the carrots the next morning.
Sinterklaas (as we call him in dutch) has helpers known to us as Zwarte Pieten or black petes, dressed up in colourful Moorish attires and have black painted faces. They are the one who distribute gifts to the children on the street. Most regard the Saint Nicholas Day more important than Christmas itself. Parents queue in the cold with their children waiting for the boat from Spain bearing the man to dock ashore. Me myself experienced waiting for hours in shopping malls or out in the snow just to satisfy my kids. Thank God it is long over.
|
|
|
73
Comments
|
|
|
keeping chris
|
Nov 11, 2011 9:19 am
1815 Views
|
He is the handsome best friend of D. We were married at the same month on the same year. They were in honeymoon when it’s our turn to say “I do” and we’re in the Philippines when they get married, so we missed each other’s wedding.
The first time I saw Chris at the top of the stairs of their apartment building I thought:
“Why on earth D. failed to mention that this guy is a hunk!”
D. said to me that among his friends, the best-looking of them all is K. When I met him, I was disappointed. The guy is not only too loud for my taste; there was no hint of whatever the reason why D. thinks he is good looking.
Chris is married to E. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against homey type of girl who is a bit way passed chubby, anything she puts on instantly gives her 3 set of breasts; one on top of the other. Her idea of a get up for a fancy evening walk in town after dinner in a fashionable restaurant is a plain white t-shirt over a black dated style of jeans coupled with black track shoes. She wears glasses too. Her hair reminds me of Kathy Bates in Dolores Claiborne.
There is nothing wrong about that too, but if you are married to somebody who looks like a model for Hugo, Armani, Ralph Lauren sort of things who is in his free time a ski-instructor too and an engineer; please… you will do a little bit of effort to look good standing next to him. Not for everyday maybe but on special occasion like a corporate dinner in a fancy restaurant.
On why Chris ended up with E. is a puzzle not only to me but for everyone who knows them. (I fancy including Chris himself) In the beginning I thought, there must be something special about her, intelligent perhaps? Witty? Funny? Good home maker? Extra- ordinarily sweet and good to him? Excellent cook? Creative, sportive like Chris? Artistic? Chubby but cute face? Anything! None of what mentioned here.
The more I know about them, the more puzzled I become. (D. especially. Since I know them, every time D. touches me intimately I keep seeing them in my mind eyes, naked! One with a God-like body and face, and one who is… I know I’m bad) but it simply beyond me. I’m aware it is shallow thinking, especially coming from somebody like me. But that is not the point. (I will come to it a bit later)
The most surprising about the whole thing is: when you know them a bit better, you will detect that if someone is going to file for divorce, it will be E. never Chris himself. He seems more into her than vice-versa. She’s the leading man in the movie of their life. Chris like D. doesn’t smoke or drink, nor go out and paint the town red; he’s sweet-good natured, very calm, a real family man and devoted father to their daughter which God forgive me, doesn’t look like Chris at all.
The point… I admire E. With all the things she doesn’t have and with a hunk of a husband like Chris, she seems in balance not only with her thoughts and disposition but about life in general. She has enough self-confidence to take on a man who never in my life I will consider marrying due to my over all feeling that I will never be good enough for him and that sort of things. But E. I’m sure never worry about it. She’s sure (we too) that Chris will never leave her; and if, she (seems) not scared of it. And that is more than I can say about myself and my own marriage.
I think some of us can take the example of E. about trust, self-confidence and self- worth, if not about how to handle a relationship and keep a man in general, hunk or no hunk.
|
|
|
42
Comments
|
|
|
Till Death Do Us Part
|
Nov 8, 2011 6:06 am
2074 Views
|
Anais Nin said: “Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”
I could simplify it in just few words: It dies because of neglect.
|
|
|
46
Comments
|
|
|
refuge
|
Nov 3, 2011 5:03 pm
1339 Views
|
…there is that place again, a stretch of white sand beach back by low lime stone cliffs. On the top of the cliffs, there is a winding road leading to nowhere. Along the beach there is a group of houses, five in total standing side by side.
The dwellings are separated from the water by a long medium height fence made of dried harvested saplings.
Next to it is a concrete path connecting the setup. They are more or less looks alike; all has a balcony facing the ocean which you enter from the rear.
On the left of it under an extended portion of the roof is a make-shift kitchen with hard packed dirt as floor and a bamboo counter which contained nothing but three pieces of rock placed in a triangular position for cooking.
On the left side of the balcony there is a door that leads to a small sitting area, the bedroom and the bathroom are next to each other at the back of the property; one has to negotiate few steps down to gain access for the two rooms are considerably lower than the rest of the house.
The first humble abode is occupied by a single man who owned a motorbike one could rent to go to town. He used to work abroad and has an easy smile and a nervous but sunny disposition.
Next to it is the house I seems always coming home to because I ended up there a lot. I sleep there as well.
The third one is owned by a young dark beautiful woman with two children, a boy of few months whom I adore and love, and a girl of about eleven. Her man works in a fishing boat and comes home only occasionally. The woman seems to like me a lot for she always talk to me about anything and everything.
She has two close friends, an older cheaply made sexy loud woman who is married to a military man and often eyeing me with undisguised curiosity, and a very handsome very young educated nicely dressed gay man who talks with clipped accent and bears an unmistakable good breeding and upper middle class background. He looks at me with quiet interest.
Next to this is a shop managed by an elderly couple with a spinster daughter who is although quiet has a surprising habit of once in a while speaking her mind on rare occasions when one less expect it.
The father, who is also the chief of the whole place gives an impression of the only one in the whole neighbourhood who really understands what I’m all about and often corrects anyone’s wrong assumption bordering on accusation born of ignorance.
The mother on the other hand likes me for the simple reason of she likes everybody who doesn’t rub her the wrong way.
Others inhabitants of the place who are by the way always grouping on the front of the shop are still faceless but familiar presence.
The last residence is a small restaurant (if one can call the co-op that) they sell different kinds of food in pots sitting side by side on the front open window of the joint. There are couple of tables placed randomly around in and outside, one can eat a meal there if desired. I do mine because apparently, I don’t cook.
The mother and daughter who own the establishment is a friendly pair and always go out of their way to provide what they think my favourite dishes are. I always show my appreciation by consuming what they have to offer and thank both of them with polite words and smile.
500 meters from this small community, standing apart and alone is the most beautiful native hut I’ve ever seen in my life. It is bigger too. The whole construction is made of varnished bamboo with a red tinge in it. There is a hammock hanging in the balcony which I sleep on sometimes. A boy of around eleven lives there (I thought at first and for a long time) all by himself.
I’ve met him one afternoon I was walking along the stretch of sand (a habit I seemed developed coming to that place) and saw him pulling a blue boat out the water. The next day, I found him sitting on the steps of my house waiting for me. He was carrying a plastic bag which contains a laminated photograph of his mother who died giving birth to him.
Farther in the distance where the beach made a sudden turn to the left is a group of tall boulders huddled together as if protecting each other from the forces of nature. Under them is a cavity one can take shelter from the rain if necessary. I know I’ve been there already with someone. But the person is still shapeless in my mind. Maybe later I could remember more….
|
|
|
11
Comments
|
|
|
eating friends
|
Nov 1, 2011 5:30 pm
2957 Views
|
Deprived of other Banquet,
I entertained Myself—
At first—a scant nutrition—
An insufficient Loaf—
But grown by slender addings
To so esteemed a size
'Tis sumptuous enough for me—
And almost to suffice
A Robin's famine able—
Red Pilgrim, He and I—
A Berry from our table
Reserve—for charity—
~E.D.
|
|
|
127
Comments
|
|
|
PYXIS
|
Oct 28, 2011 3:53 am
1578 Views
|
The paint in churches gets worn away quicker than in other buildings. I think it’s the friction of the souls. They grind themselves against the ceilings and walls.
|
|
|
19
Comments
|
|
|
But who’s going to dig the tunnel ???
|
Oct 24, 2011 12:33 am
2772 Views
|
When I was about eleven-twelve years old, I dreamed of having my very own house, and since my taste that time was not refined yet and my knowledge of the world somewhat limited; it will and shall be none other than -a nipa hut. At least that’s how it started. A beautiful cute one bedroom place made of bamboos and grass.
While I was lying down each night pretending sleep so my father will not tan my hide, the blue print of my precious was taking shape in my young mind. There it was, the house, sitting in the middle of a small garden surrounded with gorgeous greener than green plants and multi-coloured flowers. Rare wild orchids (which btw I handpicked myself from far away jungles and mountains during one of my so many dangerous adventures and quests) were hanging lusciously in the cosy balcony making love with the wind.
But wait a minute… I’m all alone, I need to protect myself, I’m a girl after all (therefore more prone to danger than boys ha ha) and brittle bamboos and fragile grasses will not do the trick. How about sandwiching bricks between the outer and inner walls? Well, that is seems a good idea. And since I’m at it already, how about reinforce my fort? I am living a dangerous life after all. Okay… bullet proof windows would be suitable, so nobody could touch me in my sleep. Talking about sleep… how could I know that someone is sneaking at me while I was deep in my slumber? Think! Think! Okay… surveillance cameras! Monitors at the foot of my bed, control panel on the headboard for easy access, done! I could finally sleep.
But wait… what about escape in case of emergency? I bolted upright! I have to design an escape route if it happened to be that my enemies managed to get inside! (or better, before they can get in) A tunnel, (heading out to the sea - I don’t know why the sea! -where my what-eve-means of escape was park ) the entrance hidden under my bed which by the way can flip over to be replace by an identical bed so nobody would notice that I was gone. That would certainly buy me sometime to head somewhere far. Okay, that would do it. I will sleep now, over and out.
But who’s going to dig the tunnel? I could not possibly do it all by myself! And since I’m not an engineer and nowhere near an architect, someone has to design and build it for me. That’s a bit dangerous no? I have to keep it a secret, nobody must know it exists! Or otherwise I will be in great danger! And the only way to keep it hidden is… if I get rid of them all! That’s an excellent idea - if I am a seasoned m-u-r-d-e-r-e-r, but since I’m not and never will be (I hope) I better give up the idea of building my precious.
And that is why (folks) I didn’t end up living in a cute and simple, peaceful nipa hut.
|
|
|
75
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (Bebong2010) use [blog Bebong2010] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
|
|
|
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
|
181
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
