What is there to life?

There is more to life

… than getting the desired response to a given stimulus.
… than the worry about how you look like in that dress you bought for a week’s worth of salary.
… than the concept of your colleagues of who you are or were or would be – they are just a very small fraction of the entire world populace.
… than your idea of who you are and your place in society.
… than the fuss over how fat or thin you look now – your size would not matter in the long run, not to you and more so to your loved one.
… than the type of car you take to the office, darn! You can even walk to the office if you wanted.
… than the volumes of work you have done or finished. After the year ends, very few people or none at all remember them.
… than the compositions you wrote and boast of. They are kindergaten work to the real geniuses.
… than the collections of whatever-you-fancy stored in special places. Years from now they could simply be rubbish to the succeeding generations
… than the degree of genius you have. Talk to a child and he wouldn’t know for sure the difference between your intellect and that of a common person.
… than the time you spend reading this or browsing through the million of sites available on the internet.

There is just more to life than all of these. A lot more that we need to discover and appreciate and love. Life ought to be celebrated. Do it while the drive is there. Enjoy it while it lasts. This moment is just a grain of sand in eternity. See first the what right here right now before you look beyond. Treasures are scattered in disguised somethings. Learn to recognize them. See them as real and smile with the knowledge that you know better than you did when you woke up this morning.

Dear God

You know I am impatient so You sent me people who stretch the little patience that I have.

You know I am a whiner so You make me experience trivial annoyances in which I can practice whining some more.

You know I am a little unforgiving so You gave me people that I feel have wronged me.

You know I am pessimistic so You challenge me with some more unfortunate events.

You know I procrastinate so You extend the deadlines I have.

There are a lot more things I can list down in which You give me chance to be what I am or what I think I am. It is just so easy to give in to impatience, the whining, pessimism and procrastination. I tend to do those things with ease. Yet come to think of it, there are a lot more things to tell you about. There are a hundred, maybe thousand, more important things to relate to you.

Oftentimes, the problem is on where or how to start. You see I used to do this – write you. Now I feel it’s a lot easy to do it back then. When I start with the address everything else follows. I can use up pages after pages of my little notebook in my tiny handwriting. It takes up a lot of words and did I tell you a lot. Even with the knowledge that You already know what I am talking about I kept on. Looking back, the practice had done me a lot of good. Maybe that is why I am attempting another Dear God again.

So did I tell you anything new? I guess not. They are all basically the same though I didn’t cover all the topics I’d have wanted. For now, this one should do. I’m not even sure if I have the courage to write the second one in here. Thanks for the courage to do the nth first here.

in anger

Why is it that when I decide that today is the best day of the year anything that can possibly go wrong simply does go wrong? Just when I am feeling good enough about certain things in my so-called existence, people around me or events that happen around me make me realize ultimately that things cannot always go as planned.

Is it not amazing how a single word from somebody or a mere gesture of someone can ruin your day? They say experience is not what happens to a man but what man does to what happens to him. How can anyone be always cool about things? When I am seething in anger or boiling mad I couldn’t think of the things that can make the ill feeling go away. I simply wallow in that anger and curse or rant or just write it off.

I guess I haven’t mastered the art of controlling anger. Well, who does? Perhaps the Dalai Lama of Tibet or the monks that live ascetic life have done it. What about this mortal, whining, incomprehensible being I've turned into? All I can hope for is that the time will come when I can just shrug over the most trivial yet annoying thing and smile at the immaturity of losing my temper over it. Well, things have a way of teaching people. Or more aptly put, experience has a way of teaching people. Only we decide to act on what it has taught us or forget about the experience as soon as it's over.

I did plan to assasinate somebody in a piece I've been meaning to write. In fact, I mentioned that I'd make a killing last night. That's just the beauty of writing. I can immortalize (oh, can I really?) or butcher somebody any way I like it. It gives me a certain freedom that emboldens even the shyest (huh?) side of me. So much for that killing. The annoyance is gone and the person is definitely not worth my time and effort. Perhaps in another story at another time. For now, I shall find a more interesting subject. If only I can paint... Now that's another story!

one-liners

black as ink is the night
*can you recall who wrote this?

love like there's no tomorrow
*has someone made claim for these words already?

i don't get mad, i get even
*more lie in it than i'd care to admit

dance as if noone is looking
*how foolish could that sound?

the night is young
*when do you say that it's turned old, or does it?

I think, therefore I am
*definitely taken but i forgot the philosopher who said it first

water

An acquaintance once told me of something I will always remember to this day. He said we are like the fish in the sea immersed in water. Instead of being immersed in water, he said we are immersed in God. Funny how the idea crept my mind when I am so busy with pending transactions for work and everybody else about me is busy as well.

Maybe it's the Holy Spirit that gave me the inspiration. Or perhaps I'm just so out of touch with my spirituality that I mistake such an idea to be a prodding from the Holy Spirit.

I must admit I was quite close to HIM. By HIM any believer should know WHO I meant. I used to write HIM daily. I have a journal for that purpose. And every once in a while I'd read my entries and I find myself smiling to myself or feeling nostalgic over some of them. It is a wonderful feeling. Somehow despite my lack of structured prayer life I feel close to HIM. In fact, many may see me as the seasonal Catholic. I go to church only when I feel like going and that's few and far between.

So why do I get this feeling now? Maybe I'm just being my old procrastinating self again. You see I function better (or I believe I do) when I'm cramming for something. The adrenaline rush pushes me to the limit or it feels like I'm able to optimize my potential. Here I am with my justifications again. Come to think of it, why indeed will I feel this way at this exact moment?

Lucky are the fish for they live their life according to how they were created. Sometimes I wonder when I can say I am able to live my life according to HIS grand plan. Or if I ever has an idea of that grand plan. I'd be counting decades but I'm not sure if I'll ever get to that point of knowing. The fish that's immersed in water contently swims with or against the current. It joins its kind or wander off alone at some point. It gets caught or luckily gets untangled from the net. It lives a life meant for it. We enjoy it if it happens to get caught in the net. We enjoy its beauty as it displays its colors in an unnatural setting - aquarium.

And now the question is: Does the fish feel wet? Or like that friend I was talking about asked, "Do we feel immersed in God?" Maybe like the fish that probably doesn't feel wet we don't feel being immersed in God. But it doesn't mean we aren't. Who can say we are and who can say we are not with absolute certainty?

masked

i waited biding my time
patience slowly running out of my system
actions unfathomable at this point
arguments useless

i sulked, whining in time
childishness & immaturity winning the battle
concerns blown by the wind
actuations thoughtless

i brooded frowning at the time
"cool" lost in the process
thoughts gone awry
plans meaningless

i seethed inwardly through time
understanding refuses to sink in
methods blotched by machinations
reparation pointless

i noted the time
gold lost, gone
nothing ever comes of it
we are all bound by time

looking at life through non-colored glasses

I bought my first pair of eyeglasses last February. Actually, my sister bought me my first pair. I just paid for the lens. She offered to buy it for me as a birthday present and I said "why not?"

The first few days proved a little difficult for my adjusting eyes. The optometrist offered to give me a lower grade lens but I insisted that I be given the grade that the reading showed. It turned out she knew better. I should've listened to the more experienced one. My head ached a few days later because my eyes were not used to the glasses. Good thing I soon adjusted and I enjoy the feeling of looking scholarly. *grin*

The first time I looked around me through the eyeglasses I couldn't quite believe how sharp the colors of things could be. I was nearly ecstatic. (in mild exaggeration, go figure) Then someone told me that it is the usual feeling of anyone who's wearing eyeglasses for the first time. To think that I made myself believe I was special and the experience is unique for me. Well, it turned out anyone who wears eyeglasses feels the same way. Talk about crushed feeling..

So how do I see life through non-colored glasses? Three months after I first wore one I still couldn't answer this question. I supposed I've been so used to seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or to be completely honest, through gray-colored glasses (is there such a thing?)

Oftentimes I still am the idealistic individual I once was when I was starting college studies. I still believe that long conversations with people who mean to me are not wasted time. I still smile at the recollection of funny experiences even when I'm alone and I look foolish to anyone who sees me. I still believe in the inherent goodness of people and their capacity to change for the better. I still cry at sappy old movies even those I've seen for the nth time. I still cry at pocketbooks that evoke certain feelings. I still am the mushy person who is fond of writing letters and notes to loved ones and trivial, silly things in my little notebook.

On the other hand, I am still my cynical, old self. I still mutter to myself and curse silently when I get mad at someone. I still feel my karma will catch up on me soon enough and I'll feel the brunt of fate. I still am afraid of cockroaches and scream like crazy whenever I see on flying through the air. I still am selfish (more than I'd care to admit). I still am the immature person I was 10 years ago. So how do I see life through non-colored glasses? You tell me.

untitled 3

surreptitiously you gaze at the object
some longing and love mirrored in your eyes
near-yet-so-far emotion gnawing at your insides
a glimpse, a smile is all you get, all you can give
if only you are both free
free to unleash pent-up feelings quite visible from a distance

A Morning Like Any Other

Consciousness slowly seeps into my being as the rays of the morning sun break through the curtains that are almost gray with dust. I stirred on my bed, let out a grunt and stretched my thin frame. As usual, I awoke before the alarm on my phone got the chance to ring. Not wanting to fall asleep again, a habit I've had difficulty kicking, I rose from my bed. Climbing down from the bed (I occupy the upper bunk of a double-deck bed) my mind wanders to the laundry I have to do before I go to the office. Thus starts my day, one like any other.

Getting a morning bath in a boarding house full of students who stay up til the early morning hours and queue their toiletries at the door of the bathroom before catching a few hours of sleep is not really that difficult. After all, I am one of the older people and a little seniority counts when it has to count. Anyway, a 5-minute shower is almost unnoticeable. These days bring a lull in the usual morning frenzy since it is semestral break and most of the house occupants have gone home. Ironing the clothes I have to wear to the office follows my bath as my usual morning routine. Coffee which is considered staple drink has to wait until I get to the office.

Beating the 9:00 am bundy time proves easier said than done. But living relatively nearer the office just makes it possible. The key is to make sure that the rush hour traffic is avoided by leaving the house early enough or almost late enough. The almost late enough works fine for me. It just leaves me a minute or two before I time in late. And wouldn't that bring a grin on your face every morning? Just beating the clock does make me smile. Shallow but true.

After a mug of steaming 3-in-1 coffee (I'd much prefer brewed coffee but it just doesn't exist in this office) I am ready to face the day hoping that I'd encounter not much of the usual blunder in this monotonous activity called office work. And like I said, a morning like any other...

song without the melody

idleness gives me reason to think
thinking brings me nowhere far from where i am

melancholy gives me reason to feel
feeling counters the numbness i wallow in

ennui gives me reason to daydream
daydreaming turns to dreamless sleep

inspiration gives me reason to smile
smiling makes me look foolish

love gives me reason to live
living has no meaning without my love

untitled 2

it is amazing how music can move people. right now i am particularly moved to write this piece as i listen to a symphony whose title and composer i even forgot. i suppose i'm just being melancholic. and as i search for reasons for this melancholy all i find are more questions. here i go being melodramatic again. this tendency seems to be inate in me. much as i want to avoid all the mushy stuff and feelings i sometimes put to writing, there are just times that i couldn't. and so i spill words directly from the heart knowing that people who read this either find the writing superficial, pathetic or simply poorly done.

an officemate encouraged me to try blogging. at first i was hesitant. i was never the person to share to just anybody something that i write. much less my half-attempts at poetry or anything of the sort. but here i am typing away trying to get a message across, trying to put to words mixed emotions i've been having lately. well, there always is a first time for everything and there always is room for improvement.

i couldn't quite figure out what i really wanted to say. to put it simply, i am excited about new things, new prospects, new adventures and experiences i can't put to words yet. suffice it to say there are a lot in store and thus, more reason for me to write about them. as encouraged, i'd be putting photos next time. that way i'm not as boring as i sound. or probably the picture will take the mystery out of this (if there ever is a mystery at all). it's been fun so far. and i'm grateful to that officemate who forgot i gave him a copy of the limerick i wrote him. c ", )

Forgotten Love

i used to think so much about your love
longing for each day i can communicate with you

i used to stay up late at night writing you
expressing my joy for this wonderful feeling

i used to write poems about the inspiration i get from you
sheepish at such folly yet happy nonetheless

i used to talk about you with friends
sharing the kind of peace only you can give

i used to go to our special place
knowing you'd always be there ready to listen to anything i have to say

i used to to attribute every good thing - a sweet melody, the beautiful sunset, a smile from a stranger - to you
confident in the thought that somehow it was you who gave me those good things

i used to do a lot of things with you in mind
enjoying even the trivial things i do

you are my forgotten love

you whose love never changed despite my forgetfulness (i did forget about my love for you)
you whose love is far greater than anyone can give (didn't you give your only Son for me?)
you whose patience far exceeds everyone else's (you will always love people even those who hate you, right?)
you whose heart is far bigger than the universe (you are far bigger than the universe)
you whose forgiveness is unending and unconditional (need i say more?)
you whose gifts are always there but taken for granted (sorry i couldn't appreciate enough of your sunsets)
you who gave me this life and this love... (i only have humble gratitude for all that)

untitled

composed: 4 April 2005

i stare in space, i jot down a few words
barely aware of people inside the room
i listen to the music lost in my thoughts

boredom permeates my being
masked by nonchalant appearance and seeming busy air
i wait for the day of my home-coming