“Where do I begin,” (that famous line from a familiar song) to tell a story where I’ve been. Been somewhere, anywhere, nope, truthfully nowhere.
Now I don’t know how to start. They say time heals all wounds, and if missing something is a wound, and starting all over again is a form of healing then let me have a thousand scars for although I’m not a masochist, I welcome the pain of waiting. And if somehow one can’t understand what I’m conveying, it’s okay not to be understood once in a while. Why would I expect others to understand if I, myself don’t understand where I’ve been, eventhough I always claimed I know where I’m heading.
Subject verb agreement, punctuation errors and a lot of grammatical lapses. I am not an English writer and it does not pain me when I tender my resignation letter and realized that he’s not reading my letter. Yes, he is not hearing me, he is looking at my letter telling me how in the world can I write a resignation letter with misspelled words and grammatical lapses. That deceitful feeling of finally getting even by giving him a hard time deciphering what I meant when I said I’m leaving. Or is it just the real me when I blabber with incongruent statements because truthfully I am a weird eccentric person who is not good in saying goodbye.
So I closed the door and walked away…. But in no time I’m back in his arms, restartng what could have been, what might have been, what should have been and all those in betweens.
Been There. Done That. How I wish I could truthfully say that. 🙂
I wonder why I have few photos in any shopping malls i’ve been to.
Let me guess. All of them almost look the same? Nope not really. Every shopping mall is distinctive in its own way. Each one has its own unique ambiance and feel.
Now I know why I have such a few shopping mall photos. It’s because i’m not really a shopaholic or a shopping diva. I get an orgasmic feeling (oops, pardon my words) in visiting museums or dropping by in flea markets.
I’m such a cheapskate when it comes to splurge shopping but it doesn’t mean I don’t get excited everytime i hopped in a mall.
It still offers a variety of experience:
– the excitement of letting my fingers run through a mountain of color coded items during the rummage sale and ending up not buying a single thing.
(This is not intentional. I’m not here to give store people a hellish experience. It happened just once, nope, just twice, alright, i admit several times but i do buy when i see something i like.)
– the smile in my face when i see an artful window display.
– the hedonistic pleasure I derived from watching people as I sit on the bench pretending to be waiting for someone when in fact i’m just sitting because i don’t have a single cent to spend on that too good to be true discounted signature items splashed all over the mall.
(Did you see that va vaboom lady carrying a handful of LV’s with her daddy? I’m not being bitter here. Envy is a green eyed monster, jealousy is blue, my eyes are neither of the two)
–and that endless rebuttal with a friend proving my point that yes he is really her daddy, not the kind of thing that causes diabetes. Until someone nearby butts in telling us to mind our own business. Priceless!
(Look who’s talking, unwanted eavesdropper, if only I could tell her to mind her own business too.)
There are things that money can’t buy. Cliche as it may sound, the best things in life are still free.
Abstract people. Have you met them? Do you recognize them? Do they ever bother you? Do you understand them?
Understanding them is like viewing a painting. Your interpretation is limited to your understanding. Your understanding is limited to your truth.
Looking at the painting, how could you refute the visible signs of the brush if you’re only seeing the canvas? And how can you accept the beauty of its diverse colors if you hate to walk in shades of gray and live your life only in black and white?
And what is your truth? Is the sun your truth or the moon on a dark night? Is it the rainbow after the storm or the pot of gold after the rainbow? Is your truth your refuge when life is a curse or it becomes your oath when life is a gift?
Abstract people. Most of the time, you don’t understand them. Sometimes, you are one of them.
Why is February a Love Month? I don’t know the answer. One thing i know is I love to share something about love through poetry……..Since February is make love, oops, i mean made up of 8 letters, let me share you 8 Love Poems/Musing.
Kindly Click / Tap Photos To Read the Poems. Hope you’ll LOVE them. Thanks.
It’s been a year since i last blow my birthday candle and how time flies. The candle of hope for a bright tomorrow lighting up my birthday wishes.
I just celebrated my birthday two days ago. Yes, i’m a year older and wiser yet i have the same birthday prayers and wishes as always.
I wish that my family will be bless all year through with good health. I wish that my parents live long enough to see their great grandchildren. I wish that my brother and my sister in law to be always in good shape so they can hug their grandchildren. I wish that my nephews and niece to be always safe and healthy so they can live a full life and achieve their dreams. And of course i wish to live happily ever after. 😉
I don’t know why, but through the years it seems like a personal tradition to slice my birthday cake and blow the candles.
I don’t really need to blow the candle this time. All i need is to close my eyes and feel the light, be grateful for the treasures that i have, a great loving family i am so blessed to be with.
And when my birthday celebration has died down and everyone is done with their birthday greetings. I look at the leftover of my birthday cake with the missing candle, this time wishing something else not just for myself.
I wish that the missing candle will always serve as light. Light when the world feel a certain darkness.
I have never imagine that i would be wishing something for the world on my birthday. My birthday wishes are always for myself and my family. But this time as i look at the world around me, my country and what’s happening beyond it, i wish for that two words that seem memorable only to beauty pageant patties…… world peace.
Yes, i wish for world peace. And i truly mean it.
Not only the kind of peace without gunfires and battles. But also the inner peace that comes within everyone. To be more kind and be more accepting of other people’s shortcomings and mistakes.
To win the battle against racism and bigotry. To be more open minded towards other people’s differences and culture. To be more understanding of other people’s religious beliefs. To be the candle that lights a dark path and show that even when the candle’s light was blown off, the splintered remaining wax will serve as a reminder that nothing in life was ever lost or wasted if it serves its purpose.
I know blowing the birthday candles doesn’t mean all dreams will be fulfilled, all wishes will come true.
Life isn’t a fairy tale. There’s more to life than my birthday wishes. And yes, sometimes wishes still ensnare me.