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Resolute Resolution
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Aug 22, 2010 4:43 am
1482 Views
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my next one will be a doctor (or a priest)
never engineers anymore
my freezer is full of those
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16
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Walking With Weed
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Aug 19, 2010 3:51 pm
1692 Views
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My mother is very stubborn woman. She has her own “unique” way of doing things. You can point out to her over and over again the “little” mistakes she is (deliberately) committing and she will either pretend she didn’t hear you or give you her most winning smiles and do it again the very first opportunity she has. Sometimes I could understand why my father used to beat the living daylights out of her.
Stop there whatever you think it is you are about to think, for it will never be accurate. Not even close.
In the course of my 43 years in the planet, almost twenty five of those away from her and equally long supporting all of them, she did quite few unforgivable things to my person which if I am a different individual; I already severed the umbilical chords a long time ago.
Whenever I am tempted to do exactly like that, I remind myself that this is the same woman who fought tooth and nail to send us to school.
And because the nature of my father (‘s job) we had to do it in different times in different places. No roots no friends no relatives no possession no nothing. My mother used the same trick in every place we went to study. We have to be in the pilot class. Somehow she cannot stomach any children of her in lower section. I wonder if it’s something to do with when you lost control of your life, you hang on to something you could. But there is some catch: transferee cannot be in pilot class. Not the done thing. You have to earn your place, not storm there and claim it. But my mother did just that.
She said: “Let my children stay for a week. And after that if you think they don’t belong, kick them out.” Well… it never happened.
She must have trusted us endlessly. This is the same mother who tied me around the foot of a table whole night because I cannot recite our father prayer in English. I was seven years old. The same woman my father left us in care in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a loaded gun saying: “If I don’t comeback by tomorrow, you know what to do.” We never find out what he means.
This seems so fragile very small woman dragged us (6) around the planet single handed-ly. She never left us and see to it that we were clothed (no matter how shabby they were) feed (doesn’t count how many times a day) and attended school (no matter how long it takes)
Yes, she got her short comings. True she drives me mad. I admit there are times I am at the end of my wits and wanted to give up. But I never will, because she is my mother. She did a mistake choosing my father, evoked the wrath of her family marrying beneath her, becomes a laughing stock of her peers, an outcast; but she weathered it all.
And brought us up to somebody we all now become. And I might say, she didn’t do a bad job.
(the title refers to how/what my father used to call her… weeds. (masamang damo mahirap mamatay) it gives you a glimpse what sort of a father I have. I will write about it sometimes.
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25
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VULTURES
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Aug 17, 2010 2:49 pm
1432 Views
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... they are there. Circling, Waiting... can’t come out. they will pounce mercilessly. Tear me piece by piece till there is nothing left. My soul… they will have it if they could. Hungry and greedy they are. Must hide. Must protect myself. So many so many! How can I come out there? They are always waiting! Waiting patiently for my return...
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14
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Dragging The Suitcase
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Aug 13, 2010 12:04 pm
1595 Views
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It was an honest-straight-forward request, and all that he said is true; she still feel something for him. In fact nothing changes between them; he was aware of that too. “Promise me this would be the last time?” she pleaded. “I promise.” He said leading her to the bedroom.
“I only want to say goodbye to you.” He whispered. He laid her on the bed and slowly undresses her. He did the same with himself and lay next to her.
They didn’t do something for a time, just hugging enjoying the chance of being close together again. After a while, he started kissing her, stroking, touching till they both can’t hold on anymore. He lay on top of her and slowly entered her. She feels every bit of him inside. It was so good! Nobody can evoke such powerful physical feeling from her by doing nothing but him. Only him.
He was always careful with her, she knows that he is aware of the fact that he is more equipped than most; he said he didn’t want to hurt her. She knows he has difficulties controlling his desires, she knows she could drive him mad. He always sees to it that she is more than ready for him before he takes her. Easier that way or otherwise access is impossible to gain.
He knows she enjoys being with him like this, she feels it in everyway. He cannot leave her alone. And this time he even pushed the limit, taking her more than twice. He hardly took it out whole night. They even slept that way, and did it again before he left the next morning.
She already dressed up for work and he, ready to go. They give each other one last kiss, long and hard. Suddenly he cannot control his desires; he simply had to have her again.
It was quick. They didn’t even undressed. He simply sat her on the hallway console and took her there standing, pushing aside that small piece of cloth she was wearing under.
And all the time, before, during and after, they were looking into each other eyes, memorizing.
They said goodbye afterwards. It was so hard letting him go, the hardest thing she done so far…
She sat bolt upright in bed catching her breath as if drowning. She looked around and realized she was alone, alone with her tangled sheets, memory (nightmare) and sweat.
Swearing, she stood up and noticed the pool of blood where she had lai(d)n… f*ck! Why disaster comes in pair? Her fingers were tainted with red too. She briefly entertains the convenience of an early menopause. Leaving her room, she tripped over the coffee table (yes I have a seating area in my room –in every room in fact-and an office too, a bench and… I’ll talk about it next time) and fell face down on the hard wood floor. If she knows how to cry, she would. But since crying wasn’t an option, she picked up herself and went to the bathroom.
On the way to the master bath, she had to pass his area. She suppressed the onset of memories that starting to surface. No time for sentimentality. Would do her no good.
Soaking in bath she thought: “I’m missing some of the domestic tra la la aferall.” She realized she has to fix herself. But she’s not there yet. She still dragging the suitcase.
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14
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Another Suitcase In Another Hall
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Aug 9, 2010 7:55 pm
2440 Views
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If you happened to notice (how could you not while I deliberately gave it a strong colour for that purpose) the song which was written by ALW for then his soon to be ex-wife SB which I took the liberty to paste on the space normally reserved for blurting out description for one’s blog and by the way the detonator of my returning to blog land… then there is no need to elaborate (not that somebody is asking or I owe anyone any explanation it just what I call including an umbrella with my usual stroll in case it rain) it practically summed up what happened with my life while being away from you people.
The trigger is the rose I wanted him to borrow from the berm (those who follow my earlier blogs know that I borrow plants from community places once and a while; usually during my nocturnal wandering. Mind you, I never take a whole plant or damage them in anyway. I just took a twig or two and try to grow them myself fancying I have a green finger to accomplished my goal and most of the times it works) It’s not really necessary the rose, it could be the sunflowers last week from abandoned Flanders field or the tree(s) he tried to kill “accidentally” after I painstakingly nursed them through the heat wave of the last few weeks.
Little trivial things equals big important things when accumulate after a time especially if they are nonchalantly ignored and repeatedly shrugged off and labelled not important because it’s not “his” despite of all straight forward warnings, futile pleas, shouting matches, days of silence etc. etc.
The key word is nonchalant coupled with taking for granted accompany by subtle manipulation, emotional blackmail sprinkled with carefully hidden blaming and veiled accusations and probably worst of all--- clothed in educated specially chosen words and sugar coated calculated lies done in passive at first glance submissive but oh so tricky manner.
Pretty delectable lot to digest especially after eating them for quite a while you begin to recognize the individual taste even the cook takes a lot of trouble masking the real brew with dose and dose of BS. I want to eat but I can’t swallow. Not anymore.
So; here we go again…ANOTHER SUITCASE IN ANOTHER HALL.
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48
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