Live

We wake up. We eat. We bathe.

We work.

We commit mistakes. We admit. We get sad.

We blame them. Or anyone. Or ourselves.

We get up. We try again.

We learn. We struggle. And then we learn more.

And then we realize that it wasn't as difficult as it was.

We laugh. We cry. We cry alone. We cry with someone.

We laugh alone. We laugh at ourselves. We laugh with someone.

We breathe. And we continue breathing.

And then we see that it has been another day. And tomorrow will be another one.

Perhaps the same cycle, but in different form.

We learn different things. We meet different people.

The world blesses us. And we bless the world.

We live. And we sustain our living.

Because, no matter what we say, we have to admit that there is nothing better in the world

but to Live.

Post Christmas and New Year Blog

At last, my long overdue post.

Christmas and New Year of 2007, it was my first time to spend the holidays away from home. For me, Christmas has always, and will always be my most favorite season of the year -- even more than my birthday, and even if it brings bitter-sweet memories on some people; And I could still remember how difficult it was for me, after 25 years, to hear Christmas carols and see Christmas trees in Dubai, without my family beside me.

I believed in Santa Claus when I was a kid. I could remember hanging my most favorite sock at one of the little plastic branches of our christmas tree, and would eagerly jump out of bed the next morning, finding different varieties of candies inside it!

They said that Christmas is for kids. Maybe because they have pure joy and peace, and they could give out the purest love. Look into a child's eyes and you'll see how beautifully made the world is.

Growing up, I learned the real meaning of Christmas. It is more than the socks on that Christmas tree, more than Santa Claus, more than the chocnuts and the candies and the barbie dolls. Christmas is the greatest service of God to mankind; and with that, Christmas should be the season to remind us how to be real servants; to really give without asking anything in return and to love with the purest of intention -- with or without your family beside you. Christmas is not my birthday; or anyone else's for that matter. Christmas is the time of our Savior's birth -- and it is a timeless fact. A fact that should be enough to make anyone of us feel blessed.

Christmas of 2009, I knew that this would be my second Christmas away from home, and so I found a way to make it special. I went to Jakarta and spend it with Martin and Ron. There was one time that one muslim taxi driver greeted us, "Merry Christmas". I was touched by the humility and sincerity, and closed my eyes briefly to say a little prayer for him. Even if the world is divided by different religions, I have always been glad on how we all learned to respect each other's beliefs. More of it, I thought, and the world would surely be a better place.

I still have a few weeks left and I needed to go back to Vietnam for work. And so I spent my New Year here; nothing much, as I expected. Most people are chinese, and they will have their own celebration on chinese new year. Sadness hit me, I had to admit, because I was alone in our big and spacious apartment, but still I was grateful. There are more than a handful of blessings I received last 2009 - I was able to go back and work again in Brasil; had a 6 week project in Abu Dhabi, and now, here in Vietnam. I found Martin, who has been giving me more than the love I ever expected; I have my best friends with me, and eventhough we are not together physically, I am grateful for their love and purest friendship; I have Mommy and Apple, who loves me endlessly -- all of these, enough to make me smile at heavens and open my arms for an avalanche of blessings coming my way.

It has been a good year -- even with a little turbulence at the beginning; everything ended well
Cheers 2009, it has been a good journey. 2010, bring it on :)

Double Standard:My two cents worth

The term double standard, coined in the early 1950s, refers to any set of principles containing different provisions for one group of people than for another.[1] A double standard may take the form of an instance in which certain applications (often of a word or phrase) are perceived as acceptable to be used by one group of people, but are considered unacceptable—taboo—when used by another group. (wikipedia.org)

Growing up, I have a wide range of friends: I have friends who are 10 years older, few years younger, female, male, third-sex; I don't mind. I know that I am imperfect myself, and so I have long ago learned how to deal with imperfections of other people. But there is just one thing that I cannot, and probably will not be able to tolerate. Maybe it is because of my roots, or maybe I am just a little young, or maybe because I am getting old.

Going on projects abroad, I am mostly surrounded by guys. I never have problems dealing with them; I eat whatever is on the table, I laugh at their sometimes obscene jokes. I really don't mind, and honeslty, i have good and fun conversations with them too.

There is just one point that creates despise in my soul. Almost would want to make me vomit at their faces. Some men would talk about girls from sunrise to sunset, during lunch breaks, coffee breaks, yosi breaks, and I would sometimes wonder if they talk (or maybe think) about girls until they sleep. For single guys, it doesn't affect me much. But I have witnessed married guys do the same. It would have been better if they talk about girls in a little subtle way. But NO. They see some girls as if they are little toys, who, if "given" the right batteries, would come to their mercy. And it makes me think, where in the corner of the world did they get the idea? How, in this little universe, could their minds do that trick without passing by the faces of their wives? Or their children? Monster!

"Ganyan talaga eh, likas sa mga lalake yan". Crap. Even if you give me 1 million dollars, hindi bebenta saken yang idea. Well, you can go ahead and look at all the girls around, but going further is a different story. And if you ask them if their wives would do the same, they'll be ready to kick some ass. Double standard. Tsk.
I am not talking about guys who fell out of love, and then falls in love with another woman. This, for me, is a different story. I am talking about guys (and girls maybe) who would endlessly fool around, to let time pass, to kill their "boredom", to sustain their "needs". I don't believe that the universe was created in that crapy manner. Or maybe I am wrong. Don't give me the "no feelings involved, no strings attached" crap. Because there are better things to do than talk about the size of that girl's bra.

Tsk.

4th week

I consciously avoided writing blog entries these past weeks, especially during my birthday week, because it has been a roller coaster of emotions.
It is friday now, and vitoria is half-asleep, with the Praia giving out its soft lullaby.
4th week of survival, I am slowly getting the pacing. There were days when I feel weak, when I get home and give out little sobs of loneliness,but at the end of each day, I know that tomorrow will be better.

There were so many angels along the way, God is faithful with His promises. To the smallest thing that I need -- where can I buy a marker? and as if on cue,my eyes would pass a little shop with pens and markers on stands; up to the big struggles of finding a place to stay --it is peak season, and it's close to impossible to find an apartment for me;and then on cue again, `we have one more room left. You can have it if you want.'

How's that?
When people tell me that I am strong, I give out a secret sigh to heavens. Because I am not. I am still the scared girl who wonders what's on the other side. Maybe I just learned, through time, to let things go. And this is not only me, because I know that whoever will be placed on the same position as I am, will have nothing to do but cling on to the idea of be-friending the universe. And just doing the most out of what could be done, and just leave everything up to heavens.
During my first few weeks, I was so stressed out. And then I realized, it was only ME who is causing this much stress. I am so pressured to be strong, up to the point of exhausting everything just to survive. And then I started to trust the universe that I am being taken care of, and then things got better.

And then my birthday. I am anticipating the roller-coaster of emotions during that day; this will be the first time in my whole existence that I will be alone (well,physically of course) during that day. Last year I was away, but I had tony and eaian and some couple of friends to celebrate it with. I went to rio to meet ron on the weekend of my birthday, but I wasn't successful in fooling myself when I was on the plane back to vitoria. I just couldn't help it; and so I just acknowledged the feeling..that yes, this is a little sad. Well, a little more sad than I thought.
But, like everything else, I had to get up. The world doesn't stop turning. The morning after my birthday, I saw the first sunrise in vitoria. And then I realized why I have never seen the sun set. My window looks directly at the east. Perhaps, Rio has given me enough sunsets already, Vitoria is here to give me sunrise.

I am not as strong as you think. Just as Gary's song perfectly explains it all. The warrior is a child. There were times that I come running down home, tired of putting these armors, and just fall down. I am not strong, but heavens pour out its spirit to supply me with strength. And I am keeping the faith that it will pour down endlessly, until this survivor series is over.

New Year Blog

It is a Sunday afternoon, with the sun happily giving the brasileros a doze of what they define as a good weekend, I am here, inside the comforts of my "own" room -- towering a little above the praia, enough to give me a little bit of inspiration to write something about random thoughts circling.Two thousand and Nine. The universe is that old. And I could only imagine how he could have written a million blogs in his lifetime. Last year was well.. I am running out of words to describe.For me, it was a year of struggle, of crossroads, a roller-coaster ride wanting anybody to make it stop and get-off in the middle. It was a year of total surrender, of letting go, and of a leap of faith.I started 2008 in the middle of east, just going on with the flow, surviving and getting lessons along the way. And then it brought me to the land far far away from home, struggled a little more, encountered big tests of faith and principles, stumbled and got up along the way, with too much learning to take note off. And then I went home, overwhelmed with my comfort zone, got myself a little time to take things slow, hibernate a little, drown in my own thoughts. I gained and lost a few pounds, lost and gained people in my life, fought and lost battles, let go, surrendered and saw things fall into places little by little.My dear friends had their own battles to take too, and I witnessed and saw in their eyes how we all fought all through these, how we manage to still share cups of coffee and endless stories until daybreak, how we never stopped loving each other. One of my bestfriends got married, and for us, it was the best gift 2008 had to offer. Her wedding was more than a one-day event. It healed us all, in its own ways.2008 has given me a lot of assignments, exams, recitations and essays. Though there were days that I flunked them, I think I managed to get a passing mark at the finals. I think I aced on the essay part.And with the new year just had his jump start, I was brought back here, a thousand miles away from home again, with a lot of new things to learn. With all of my dear ones back at home, all anticipating what this year has to offer, crossing fingers, I know we will all be fine. And so I realize that we all just have to play our part. To live, to love, to learn -- with faith, with trust and with a solid belief that even if things will not be easy, they will fall into place. Play our part, and heavens will take it from there.Cheers to 2008, you deserve a gold medal from me. Two thousand and nine, here we come.

::Re-posted. original posting @ 01/11/09 Vitoria Espirito Santo Brasil

Christmas blog

I will never ever forget the feeling of having spent Christmas away from home. Last year, at Christmas, I was in the middle of the east, exhausting most of my energy spending time with people who are around, just to get my mind off the loneliness of being away from home.
Today, I am here, savoring every time spent inside the comforts of my home, with mom, with apple, with sunshine, and with the rest of my friends -- effortless.
Maybe its true, that you can only appreciate something more if you were given a chance to live without it. Heavens answered my prayers, and my heart shouts out with bliss.
Last night, on the way to mass, I asked my sister, Do you smell Christmas?
Because I do. I don't know if it sounds weird, but the scent of Christmas has always been different for me. Maybe its the cold air, or the sound of laughters, or the different aura of most people around. It is crisp, the coldness brings warmth, and the pureness of scent is a combination of melancholy and peace. It is something I might never be able to describe in my lifetime, but something that will never cease to amaze me. The scent of Christmas. Nostalgic.
Christmas is subjective for most people. For people who are hurting, today is when you "rub" it in. For people who are away, today is a challenge on how to just make it ordinary. For some, this is just another ordinary day with people trying hard to make it extraordinary.
But for me, Christmas will always be my most favorite time of the year. Hurting or not, Away or home, Christmas will always be a raw and tangible chance for remembering and counting the blessings. Thank God for Christmas, hope becomes alive for most people.
Celebrate this day. On hope, on faith, on love and on sharing.

::reposted. original posting @ 12/25/08

Sunrise With You

SUNRISE WITH YOU

by Dan Hornan

WAKE UP SCREAMING. My throat is sore from the vocalisation of agony. My mind is numb from turning the same thought over. Over and over.

'It's only a dream, it's only a dream,' my friend repeats from his side of the apartment. If only he could know the weight of his words. For that is precisely what I am running from. Running from a dream. But in this dream it is me who does the chasing. I'm looking for a concept, something unreal. My thoughts are reduced to a cold mechanism, a flurry of actions which will lead inexorably to emotion.

'It's alright, I'm okay now. It's alright, go back to sleep,' I reply. Such lies. I cannot sleep knowing that I will return to a false reality where I am the captor and emotion is my innocent victim, my prize. I am tired. Tired of trying to make for myself a new destiny when I know that fate, ultimately, will choose.

My eyes are firmly open. I think of sunrise. Sunrise with you. I am afraid of forgetting those moments though I know that they are written indelibly into me. Sometimes I long to forget, but I have come to the understanding that tragic beauty is better than living a false reality - so my nightmares remind me. All other moments seem intangible in comparison.

I had taken a psychotrope. A stimulant which if consumed in large enough quantities can induce visions. I used to think that it made the moments of less real value. That what you felt was not really part of you but a synthesised world. Now I am beginning to realise the true meaning of that phrase.

I once believed I was in love when on a psychotrope. But when I saw her a few days later I was not - I had not been in love for many years. At first I was angry with the psychotrope - how could it deceive me like that? How could it tease me with manna I longed to consume? After further thought I became glad. Glad because I knew once again that I was capable of love. Glad because I knew that it was real, if only for a few moments.

With you, love was not the question - only tragedy. Beautiful tragedy. Anyway, we were both high and it was not the first time. I can't remember if you kissed me. I only know that we did not hold hands - we barely touched at all. I remember the yellowness of your hair as you came towards me and how we sat together on a comfort blanket a few metres from the circle of stones.

And I remember that I had wanted to speak. To talk with you at great length about matters of importance. But although my speech was pressured I could not release my deepest thoughts. My ideas were flighty - so many words. Yet somehow my lips were blocked. I felt like Helfgott on lithium. Somewhere there was music and there were thoughts, but they seemed entangled - twisted upon each other until they became imprisoned in a speechless agony. The agony of twisted dreams.

But in a moment you transformed me. From jaw-grinding wreck to silken-lined vessel of youth. For one moment it was all worthwhile - the moment of sunrise, the moment you spoke your mind.

'My mind has been on one thing all this time,’ you stated. 'Finding you.' Your voice was the sun - a great mass creating its own gravity. 'But now I've found you I don't know what to do.' The sun floats free in space, weightless and bright. It rises above the circle of stones, the gift of a new day.

The following night I tried to meet you again. I was lost - lost among the people and the music and the thoughts. I had reckoned it was not possible to lose myself and I had not even tried my hardest. The night wore on and the people stomped for joy in the sodden dregs of a field. Eventually, their faces began to change. At first they seemed old, older than the stones in the circle. And their bodies were all worn out - tired of drudging through the earth. But you, the sun, gave them new light. Even in the darkness. Their troubled faces were transformed - a metamorphosis complete in your image.

About this time I started to doubt your presence. How could you be there in all those people? And I knew that it was a trick of the mind. But this time I was not angry with the psychotrope. I knew that my will was so determined it had need to search for a part of the sun, however small, in each one of them. I knew that my vision had become focused. That I could mould each person into an image of you.

And about this time I started to hear you call my name. This I could not control - a single syllable amongst a vast array of words. I ran to people knowing they were not you. I tried to speak to them but from every direction you called out to me. They seemed distant - nothing seemed real anymore, not even my own consciousness. And then I knew what I sought was unreal - a false warmth stolen from the rising sun. The start of my nightmares.

I returned to the stone circle and watched the watery sun rise above the greying hills. The circle was full of people yet even the stones appeared disheartened. The promise of another day, a week, a year of unreality did not appeal. The sky was overcast with fear - fear of its own cold mechanism. Fear that there would never be another sunrise. Sunrise with you.