I know I am almost there in turning my back from You, but once again, even if this will be the last, I am offering my prayers to You, and Buddha and Allah and all the gods and goddesses known to mankind, to grant this wish, a very simple plea of my ailing heart, so that Christmas will be red, green, gold, and all the vibrant colors it should be.
I pray:
Please help me in my quest for Happiness tonight. I ask for Your kindness, all of You whom I revere lofty and good---stretch my patience, even just for this very special night, so I myself will be kind.
Bless my heart with familial love, for I am a son desperate for love. Bless my mind with understanding, since it is understanding itself, from myself, that I utmost seek. And bless my soul with peace, so I myself can give peace.
I ask this from Thee, my Blessed, my refuge, my liege. Bless me tonight, and I shall take care of the rest.
Blessed be.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
I miss you
I miss you, they always say:
A friend, a boss, all the same.
In a chance encounter or a seance aimed,
An "I miss you" is what ends the day.
I miss you, they always say:
Their presence felt, mine betrayed.
Always on call come what may,
A gesture of love from my beloved they.
I miss you, they always say:
The pain of absence crosses the bay.
Vanquished are the moments so gay
Spent with them, my beloved they.
I miss you, they always say---
If only for a time longer I could stay.
Hope comes, but all in vain
For unbeknownst reasons block the way.
A friend, a boss, all the same.
In a chance encounter or a seance aimed,
An "I miss you" is what ends the day.
I miss you, they always say:
Their presence felt, mine betrayed.
Always on call come what may,
A gesture of love from my beloved they.
I miss you, they always say:
The pain of absence crosses the bay.
Vanquished are the moments so gay
Spent with them, my beloved they.
I miss you, they always say---
If only for a time longer I could stay.
Hope comes, but all in vain
For unbeknownst reasons block the way.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Closer to death
It has already been weeks, but it is only now that my heart is being crippled by the pain, the anger, the brutality, the loss.
Mommy met up with her ex-colleagues to celebrate one ex-office mate's birthday. As commonly expected from reuniting groups, she and her friends exchanged stories and insights on the latest happenings, personal and otherwise. It came to a surprise, however, that the topic at hand lifted the festive mood that usually (and ideally) inflicts get-togethers. An ex-office mate died, and her departure is no ordinary death.
Her name was Cecile Lechonsito, and she was one of the victims of the inhumane Maguindanao massacre.
Tita Cecile came home from Qatar just recently to attend one of her daughter's graduation and to tend on her sick husband. She had been away for two years straight; her two daughters study in separate schools, Honey in Laguna and Sugar in Iloilo; her husband stays in Mindanao working as licensing officer 3 for the Tacurong City government. Simply put, they have never been together as a family for quite some time.
Tito Nonie, her husband, suffered a mild stroke. She with three others decided to bring the ailing man to Cabanatuan City for a CT scan. A convoy was ahead of them, and when the vehicles were stopped for reasons they did not know, they had no choice but to wait until the traffic starts moving again.
Their red Toyota Vios got caught in between the other vehicles along the road.
November 25, 2009. Tita Cecile's and Tito Nonie's bodies were found. Tita Cecile would have turned 52 on that day.
Mommy remembers Tita Cecille as a petite, beautiful woman. News has it that her complexion has become fairer and her hair longer, making her more beautiful than she ever was despite the age. It comes to no surprise---but with tantamount disgust and extreme hatred---that she was sexually abused before she was shot into the mouth. Tita Cecile was one of the five women identified to have been raped before killed in the massacre.
Tita Cecile may not have been as tight with my mother as with her other colleagues/friends, but learning about the news is just as saddening. Death of someone we know, even those of we knew little or indirectly, pains us in many ways. Learning about the massacre is one thing; learning that one of the victims was closer to you than what you realized is another. The gravity of the situation now sinks in for real, the injustice of it all much more evident.
I could only imagine how Sugar and Honey feel right now. I may have never met them, but I want to give them a hug---even if I sincerely know that what they need is more than just that.
Mommy met up with her ex-colleagues to celebrate one ex-office mate's birthday. As commonly expected from reuniting groups, she and her friends exchanged stories and insights on the latest happenings, personal and otherwise. It came to a surprise, however, that the topic at hand lifted the festive mood that usually (and ideally) inflicts get-togethers. An ex-office mate died, and her departure is no ordinary death.
Her name was Cecile Lechonsito, and she was one of the victims of the inhumane Maguindanao massacre.
Tita Cecile came home from Qatar just recently to attend one of her daughter's graduation and to tend on her sick husband. She had been away for two years straight; her two daughters study in separate schools, Honey in Laguna and Sugar in Iloilo; her husband stays in Mindanao working as licensing officer 3 for the Tacurong City government. Simply put, they have never been together as a family for quite some time.
Tito Nonie, her husband, suffered a mild stroke. She with three others decided to bring the ailing man to Cabanatuan City for a CT scan. A convoy was ahead of them, and when the vehicles were stopped for reasons they did not know, they had no choice but to wait until the traffic starts moving again.
Their red Toyota Vios got caught in between the other vehicles along the road.
November 25, 2009. Tita Cecile's and Tito Nonie's bodies were found. Tita Cecile would have turned 52 on that day.
Mommy remembers Tita Cecille as a petite, beautiful woman. News has it that her complexion has become fairer and her hair longer, making her more beautiful than she ever was despite the age. It comes to no surprise---but with tantamount disgust and extreme hatred---that she was sexually abused before she was shot into the mouth. Tita Cecile was one of the five women identified to have been raped before killed in the massacre.
Tita Cecile may not have been as tight with my mother as with her other colleagues/friends, but learning about the news is just as saddening. Death of someone we know, even those of we knew little or indirectly, pains us in many ways. Learning about the massacre is one thing; learning that one of the victims was closer to you than what you realized is another. The gravity of the situation now sinks in for real, the injustice of it all much more evident.
I could only imagine how Sugar and Honey feel right now. I may have never met them, but I want to give them a hug---even if I sincerely know that what they need is more than just that.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
When?
Impoverished with words to say, I opted to ask question instead. "Anong oras ang labas mo sa work?"
"Why, susunduin mo ko?" he replied.
"Haha. Nagtatanong lang," I said, with an inkling that asking the question is not a good idea---at all.
Then he replied, "Kahit man gustuhin ko, alam kong hindi mo kaya."
Beyond the that-did-not-go-so-well-for-me effect comes a question that has been bugging me for years: when will be the time that I can be a bit more romantically aggressive when I want to be?
"Why, susunduin mo ko?" he replied.
"Haha. Nagtatanong lang," I said, with an inkling that asking the question is not a good idea---at all.
Then he replied, "Kahit man gustuhin ko, alam kong hindi mo kaya."
Beyond the that-did-not-go-so-well-for-me effect comes a question that has been bugging me for years: when will be the time that I can be a bit more romantically aggressive when I want to be?
Monday, November 30, 2009
It's been quite a while
Just for the sake of having this blog page updated. Revelations coming soon.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Reality check
Is it too much to aspire for an MS in Psychological Measurement, an MA in Literature, an MFA in Creative Writing, and possibly an MA Ed. in Guidance and Counseling?
Ever since I was introduced to psychological testing, I knew it is what I want to specialize in. I take pleasure and satisfaction in administering, scoring and interpreting tests, and so far, I have tried to engage myself in similar activities outside the classroom setting. I have had administered our university's freshmen entrance exam twice, abiding by the principles and applying the concepts of psychological testing, and this semester's courses would involve a lot of psychological assessment. An MS in Psychological Measurement would be a very good career move.
What would life be like, I wonder, if I chose a different career path? Specifically the arts and letters, that which deviates too intensely from my choice? Beauty is an intangible construct I deeply admire, and the written art is one medium through which it is best expressed. In its many forms, literature stuns me like no other. There is simply so many things to discover between lines and paragraphs, so much ideas expressed in sophistication and exuberance. This could be the driving force behind my reading hobby, and an MA in Literature would make reading a more enjoyable experience.
Perhaps, liking literature is linked to my passion---writing. Okay, that sounded so wrong.
Truth is, writing as a passion is nothing but a distant dream now. I could barely produce something readable (take note: readable, not publishable). The fire is simply... extinguished. I try and I fail to produce satisfactory outputs, and the more I produce mediocre work, the more I sink into the deep abyss of inferiority, frustration, and disappointment.
Going back to the writing-literature-writing continuum, by writing, I produce literature, and through literature, I learn to write. An MFA in Creative Writing would pave way to my rediscovery of the wonders of writing that I seem to have already forgotten. I hope.
In a yet another career path but this time completely related to my field of study, an MA Ed in Guidance and Counseling used to be my original stepping stone in the psychological world. But because of the newly imposed requirements in licensure prior to practice, this has to be crossed out of my priority list. Still, there is still the inkling to pursue graduate studies in such specialization for the sake of the license.
With all these reasoned out well enough, what seems to be the problem?
Simple: I do not have the intellect and the skill for all of these. The MS is inevitable, so there would be no problem with that. The MA, I hope, would be less strenuous if I take the non-thesis track. The greatest problem lies with the MFA. I have no academic background in writing, not to mention that I could not even manage to produce a decent writeup. As for the MA Ed., truthfully, I no longer feel motivated to study Guidance and Counseling. The new Psychology bill is devastatingly disheartening, and earning an MA Ed degree, I know, would only be for the licensure and nothing else.
Thinking about it, it is not really an issue of intellect and skill. The real score lies on whether or not my motivation to study would sustain these goals.
And even before that, there is another thing, the real real score: I am thinking way too beyond. I have not even graduated from college yet.
Ever since I was introduced to psychological testing, I knew it is what I want to specialize in. I take pleasure and satisfaction in administering, scoring and interpreting tests, and so far, I have tried to engage myself in similar activities outside the classroom setting. I have had administered our university's freshmen entrance exam twice, abiding by the principles and applying the concepts of psychological testing, and this semester's courses would involve a lot of psychological assessment. An MS in Psychological Measurement would be a very good career move.
What would life be like, I wonder, if I chose a different career path? Specifically the arts and letters, that which deviates too intensely from my choice? Beauty is an intangible construct I deeply admire, and the written art is one medium through which it is best expressed. In its many forms, literature stuns me like no other. There is simply so many things to discover between lines and paragraphs, so much ideas expressed in sophistication and exuberance. This could be the driving force behind my reading hobby, and an MA in Literature would make reading a more enjoyable experience.
Perhaps, liking literature is linked to my passion---writing. Okay, that sounded so wrong.
Truth is, writing as a passion is nothing but a distant dream now. I could barely produce something readable (take note: readable, not publishable). The fire is simply... extinguished. I try and I fail to produce satisfactory outputs, and the more I produce mediocre work, the more I sink into the deep abyss of inferiority, frustration, and disappointment.
Going back to the writing-literature-writing continuum, by writing, I produce literature, and through literature, I learn to write. An MFA in Creative Writing would pave way to my rediscovery of the wonders of writing that I seem to have already forgotten. I hope.
In a yet another career path but this time completely related to my field of study, an MA Ed in Guidance and Counseling used to be my original stepping stone in the psychological world. But because of the newly imposed requirements in licensure prior to practice, this has to be crossed out of my priority list. Still, there is still the inkling to pursue graduate studies in such specialization for the sake of the license.
With all these reasoned out well enough, what seems to be the problem?
Simple: I do not have the intellect and the skill for all of these. The MS is inevitable, so there would be no problem with that. The MA, I hope, would be less strenuous if I take the non-thesis track. The greatest problem lies with the MFA. I have no academic background in writing, not to mention that I could not even manage to produce a decent writeup. As for the MA Ed., truthfully, I no longer feel motivated to study Guidance and Counseling. The new Psychology bill is devastatingly disheartening, and earning an MA Ed degree, I know, would only be for the licensure and nothing else.
Thinking about it, it is not really an issue of intellect and skill. The real score lies on whether or not my motivation to study would sustain these goals.
And even before that, there is another thing, the real real score: I am thinking way too beyond. I have not even graduated from college yet.
Inner demons
"I'm not used to people being nice to me. I mean, the world is a gigantic monster."
"Not always," I replied. "The world is not as harsh as it seems to be."
"How (a)bout the world with your dad in it?"
Sacha and Reiny, May 2, 2009
"Not always," I replied. "The world is not as harsh as it seems to be."
"How (a)bout the world with your dad in it?"
Sacha and Reiny, May 2, 2009
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