There's something awfully lonely about christmas.
The cold air? The malls and busy streets jammed with people thinking about presents, bonuses, and the inevitable traffic jam?
Nothing about humanity in between, save in the minds of the charitable few.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not persecuting the happy people. Neither do I want to be a scrooge. And, no, I don't believe writing "WORLD PEACE" there on my grown-up Christmas list, so to speak, would actually change the world for the better.
I'm just thinking out loud. Being stuck in Shaw Boulevard after being ditched by a taxicab driver I had commissioned (for a lack of a better word) in Rockwell to take me home to Quezon City due to the heavy traffic in EDSA does that to you.
Christmas can really be the loneliest time of the year. And I'm feeling the blues too much to even write anything else.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Love is all around: some thoughts about that ol' thing
"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore.
So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."
Rebecca- age 8
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Billy - age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."
Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
Terri - age 4
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."
Danny - age 7
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"
Emily - age 8
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."
Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"
Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."
Noelle - age 7
"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."
Tommy - age 6
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.
He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."
Cindy - age 8
"My mommy loves me more than anybody
You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."
Clare - age 6
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."
Chris - age 7
"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."
Mary Ann - age 4
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)
Karen - age 7
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."
Mark - age 6
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
Jessica - age 8
And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge.
The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.
The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,
"Nothing, I just helped him cry"
So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."
Rebecca- age 8
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Billy - age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."
Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
Terri - age 4
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."
Danny - age 7
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"
Emily - age 8
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."
Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"
Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."
Noelle - age 7
"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."
Tommy - age 6
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.
He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."
Cindy - age 8
"My mommy loves me more than anybody
You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."
Clare - age 6
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."
Chris - age 7
"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."
Mary Ann - age 4
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)
Karen - age 7
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."
Mark - age 6
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
Jessica - age 8
And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge.
The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.
The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,
"Nothing, I just helped him cry"
Monday, December 3, 2007
Why not?
Nathan and I had a discussion about preference. Why not you? Why not me? What does anther have that each of us don't?
Among the seas of faces we encounter daily, how do we select the person we do select - for a friend, companion, acquaintance, object of our affection, the like. Yes, the labels. (And no matter how insistent we become about how we DON'T believe in labeling and how hard we deny that we don't condone such, much less practice it, the whole labeling thing is inevitable. Unavoidable.) Why do we make the selection? Why them? Why these people?
We issue standards. We comply with them 0 sometimes struggling as we do so, sometimes with ease: unconsciously, as if we were born to make our choices based on those standards. Other times, we discard them and declare our independence from personally established norms, so to speak. So, when do we do so? Why do we do so? Why pick that person among all of them? Why do we make that choice?
The answer, you might say, lies in the free will of humans. Freedom to select. Freedom of choice. Right to organization, even (as if friendships are organizations - well in a way, they are, but that's debatable). Point there. But that really does not answer the how's and the why's of selection.
The answer is different for every person. Yes. Of course. Or else, those not selected will never be selected. And there'll be hordes of people vying for the same people, as well.
Why me? Why you?
I could listen all day to each answer.
Among the seas of faces we encounter daily, how do we select the person we do select - for a friend, companion, acquaintance, object of our affection, the like. Yes, the labels. (And no matter how insistent we become about how we DON'T believe in labeling and how hard we deny that we don't condone such, much less practice it, the whole labeling thing is inevitable. Unavoidable.) Why do we make the selection? Why them? Why these people?
We issue standards. We comply with them 0 sometimes struggling as we do so, sometimes with ease: unconsciously, as if we were born to make our choices based on those standards. Other times, we discard them and declare our independence from personally established norms, so to speak. So, when do we do so? Why do we do so? Why pick that person among all of them? Why do we make that choice?
The answer, you might say, lies in the free will of humans. Freedom to select. Freedom of choice. Right to organization, even (as if friendships are organizations - well in a way, they are, but that's debatable). Point there. But that really does not answer the how's and the why's of selection.
The answer is different for every person. Yes. Of course. Or else, those not selected will never be selected. And there'll be hordes of people vying for the same people, as well.
Why me? Why you?
I could listen all day to each answer.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Finding Polaris
It was the first time for me to see Orion's Belt. (Come to think of it, it was the first time I had been able to make out a constellation even though I had often prided myself for being good in connect-the-dots puzzle games, courtesy of Manila Bulletin.) Worse, even if I had actually passed all my science classes, it was just last night when it REALLY dawned to me that, yes, the earth rotates! All the while I had believed that the stars that twinkle in the night sky are permanently positioned in such a way that when you look out of the same window at night, you get to see the same stars. When daylight comes, you cannot see them anymore but they're still there: in the same place as you look out your window. They don't move. Neither do you. Yes. I am such a dumb prat.
The unbearable freezing temperature of the room at a Batangas resort, and the lost aircon remote as well as the fear of being electrocuted if I were to yank all the wires I see in pure rage, prompted me to traipse outside and snuggle close to the exhaust fan at the terrace. And then I looked up and listened.
The North Star, or Polaris, is at the end of the Little Dipper's handle, which arches toward a small cup formed by four stars. On the opposite side of Polaris is the constellation Cassiopeia. Travelers often use Polaris for navigation. Wanderers look to the North Star to find their way. There's a Native American tale about the origin of this star. It was said that a brave son tried to impress his father by climbing the tallest cliff he could find. Through difficult conditions he continued until he arrived the top of a very high mountain. The mountain was so tall that the son looked down on all the other mountains. Unfortunately, there was no way down. When his father came looking for him, he found his son stuck high above. Not wanting his son to suffer for his bravery, he turned his son into a star that can be viewed and honored by all living things. And so the North Star.
Me? I was just captivated by the stars last night. And I liked the serenity the lake provided and the wonderful company I had. I liked listening to the tales, fictional or otherwise. I liked the night breeze.
And I liked sitting there by the exhaust fan as I tried to warm my feet.
The unbearable freezing temperature of the room at a Batangas resort, and the lost aircon remote as well as the fear of being electrocuted if I were to yank all the wires I see in pure rage, prompted me to traipse outside and snuggle close to the exhaust fan at the terrace. And then I looked up and listened.
The North Star, or Polaris, is at the end of the Little Dipper's handle, which arches toward a small cup formed by four stars. On the opposite side of Polaris is the constellation Cassiopeia. Travelers often use Polaris for navigation. Wanderers look to the North Star to find their way. There's a Native American tale about the origin of this star. It was said that a brave son tried to impress his father by climbing the tallest cliff he could find. Through difficult conditions he continued until he arrived the top of a very high mountain. The mountain was so tall that the son looked down on all the other mountains. Unfortunately, there was no way down. When his father came looking for him, he found his son stuck high above. Not wanting his son to suffer for his bravery, he turned his son into a star that can be viewed and honored by all living things. And so the North Star.
Me? I was just captivated by the stars last night. And I liked the serenity the lake provided and the wonderful company I had. I liked listening to the tales, fictional or otherwise. I liked the night breeze.
And I liked sitting there by the exhaust fan as I tried to warm my feet.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
and so it is...
"When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake then it subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision; you have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you two should ever part, because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness; it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day, it's not laying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No, that is just being in love, which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love, itself, is what is left over when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting does it? But, it is." Captain Corelli's Mandolin
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Fall
You bloom in autumn
with the golden hues reflected
in your pensive eyes;
faraway, the conch bids
a nostalgic lament
and succumbs to the whispers
of the rustling leaves.
Thoughts unfold
and you're demystified -
Time holds no mystery
but of its own perpetuity,
its constancy.
A quiet smile faces
the cool, passing breeze;
around you the maple
and the caballero weep
of its beauty:
you are captivated.
The park is serene
and splashed with the warm
colors of the sun.
By twilight, it is embraced
by the night's solitary breath.
This marriage of contrasting poles
leaves you with a pained smile.
Autumn is your Spring.
You bloom
and you weep its beauty.
with the golden hues reflected
in your pensive eyes;
faraway, the conch bids
a nostalgic lament
and succumbs to the whispers
of the rustling leaves.
Thoughts unfold
and you're demystified -
Time holds no mystery
but of its own perpetuity,
its constancy.
A quiet smile faces
the cool, passing breeze;
around you the maple
and the caballero weep
of its beauty:
you are captivated.
The park is serene
and splashed with the warm
colors of the sun.
By twilight, it is embraced
by the night's solitary breath.
This marriage of contrasting poles
leaves you with a pained smile.
Autumn is your Spring.
You bloom
and you weep its beauty.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Upon waking
For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the seasons of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
- A.C. (Algernon Charles) Swinburne
And all the seasons of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
- A.C. (Algernon Charles) Swinburne
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