Myopic Thoughts

It’s funny because, ever since I was a kid I’ve always seen people in terms of deep and not-so-deep - ok, shallow. no point in making it subtle. Sometimes I find it very judgemental of me to ever have that kind of viewpoint, but the thing is - it is real. It is very real to me. In my lifetime (well it’s not done yet but I’m guessing 26 years is more than a quarter of my estimated mortal lifespan) I’ve encountered people who have preached ever so vigilantly about what to do and who to become, and it’s confusing at times because I hear this voice inside of my head (God??? I really do hope it’s Him and not somebody else) and it tells me that it ain’t the way it’s supposed to be; one’s life shouldn’t be dictated upon by another’s. Influenced, maybe, but not ruled over. Why else should people be made unique if the only purpose is to become a replica of another face, another personality? Nobody else could become Einstein. nobody else could become Elvis. Nobody else could become Gandhi. Nobody else could become Ninoy. Nobody else could become Walt Disney. And surely nobody else could become Pope Jouhn Paul II (not even Pope Benedict XVI). Lastly, nobody else could be you…or me. We’re all different, no matter how much we try to imitate one another. Some may agree, some may not. But that’s the beauty of it: we can choose.  And that, in my limited opinion, is what makes people special. The ability to decide and act on that decision.

Some people like to expound on things (like yours truly); Others take stuff in and revel at the simplicity of it. Personally, I just want the common ground to be made up of one simple word: respect. Ironically, it is a tough noun to recognize, and a tough verb to put into action. Pride prevents most of us from ever accepting the goodness in other people. Fear does the same thing.

If only more people would listen with their hearts than with their pockets or their egos there’d be no need for heaven.

Haven’t had the privilege yet of walking into a mall and seeing every person inside smiling…

One lazy afternoon…I fancied writing a song.

Panalangin

I

Pinilit pa rin

Kahit alam nang ‘di laan

Bakit ganoon na lang

Laging nag-aabang

Hibang…nasasabik

Sa ‘yong pagbabalik

Hooo…

II

Walang patid

Sa kaiisip

Ako ba ang may gawa

Kaya’t ikaw ay nawala

Ako’y natutulala

Sa katahimikan

Hoo…hooo…

Chorus

Panalangin ko

Sana’y malimot din ng puso ko

Ang sakit na aking nadarama

Dulot ng mga alaala mo

Panalangin ko

Sana’y hindi na balikan ang kahapon

Mga sugat na aking natamo

Dahil umibig minsan sayo

III

Ayoko na

Nais ko nang maging manhid

Mangangarap na lang

At pipilitin ngumiti

Magtitiwala

Na magmamahal muli

Hooo…

(Repeat Chorus, fade)

————————–

Next time I’ll refrain from writing emo’s. Drains the mind - that’s not good.

It’s Easter Sunday, and the pain in my throat hasn’t gone away. I was able to attend mass last night (the vigil) but when I woke up this morning I found myself too lethargic to even lift my spoon. I decided to stay here at the house while the rest of the family went to visit kuya’s grave - they also planned to go malling this afternoon.

It’s pretty quiet around here. The chimes in the living room occasionally sound like a broken xylophone being played…while the whirring of my standfan reminds me of those old propeller-type biplanes I constantly see in films. Somehow, the simplicity of it all gives me the illusion that I am at peace. At least for the moment.

I hear a distant engine stopping…they’ve just arrived. Time for me to go.

Don’t get me wrong. I do not condemn solemn days in the Church calendar. It’s this tonsillitis I’ve contracted 2 days ago that I’ve come to hate. Drinking anything gives the sensation of swallowing a dozen thumbtacks, or a huge fishbone scraping the walls of my throat. Up to now, it hurts like hell. Oh, did I mention IT HURTS LIKE HELL? Lost the fever yesterday - thing is, my head still feels like a 40-pound bowling ball (and they don’t even make those).

I’ll just suck it up and say that this’ll be my share in His suffering. He suffered a helluva lot more and still managed to keep mum about the pain, while I’ve been such a whiner, complaining non-stop about my lousy sore throat. Shame on me.

Well, if there’s anything good comin’ outta this ordeal it’s this: I tend to get more artistic. Strange, but the inspiration flows freely when my body’s in pain. No, I’m no sadist, but I think being sick allows me to focus. It’s nice how I get to finish several art pieces on my computer in a span of 3 hours. Summer’s all I’ve got for pastimes like this. just a few weeks more and I’ll be back at the battlefront.

Almost all of my cousins took out-of-the-country vacations. SHucks. I’m green with envy. I’ve got an important job to do here, yeah - still, there’s a part of me that just wants to leave everything for awhile and escape. Some other time, perhaps.

One more thing: my throat still HURTS LIKE HELL!!!

One’s a poem; the other’s a song.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.  Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel.  None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch.  And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.  And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied.  It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

– Elizabeth Bishop

_____________________

Most of the time
I’m clear focused all around,
Most of the time
I can keep both feet on the ground,
I can follow the path, I can read the signs,
Stay right with it, when the road unwinds,
I can handle whatever I stumble upon,
I don’t even notice she’s gone,
Most of the time.

Most of the time
It’s well understood,
Most of the time
I wouldn’t change it if I could,
I can make it all match up, I can hold my own,
I can deal with the situation right down to the bone,
I can survive, I can endure
And I don’t even think about her
Most of the time.

Most of the time
My head is on straight,
Most of the time
I’m strong enough not to hate.
I don’t build up illusion ’till it makes me sick,
I ain’t afraid of confusion no matter how thick
I can smile in the face of mankind.
Don’t even remember what her lips felt like on mine
Most of the time.

Most of the time
She ain’t even in my mind,
I wouldn’t know her if I saw her
She’s that far behind.
Most of the time
I can’t even be sure
If she was ever with me
Or if I was with her.

Most of the time
I’m halfway content,
Most of the time
I know exactly where I went,
I don’t cheat on myself, I don’t run and hide,
Hide from the feelings, that are buried inside,
I don’t compromise and I don’t pretend,
I don’t even care if I ever see her again
Most of the time.

–Bob Dylan

6 days from now I’ll be taking on a tutorial job at Paseo de Santa Rosa - it’ll consist of one-on-one basic reading and spelling sessions with kids ages 4 and up. Mostly pronunciation/use of phonetics - the usual stuff. I figured since I’ve probably had my share of ‘leisure trips’ for this summer, I might as well busy myself with something more…productive. You know, things to keep my mind off…uh…uhm…well…’things’. It’s not good to keep struggling with thoughts that do nothing ‘cept cloud my day, especially when I’m supposed to be rejoicing in my new-found freedom. Actually, I’ve been free for quite some time now, only that I haven’t come to terms with it - yet. People like me (the insecure lot) tend to prolong the agony of defeat. We literally thrive in failure. But I guess there has to come a time when I would have to put all of these behind me. I probably should start right-about-now. Enough of the drama, I suppose.

Hmm, I may have to set aside that foreign language course I’ve been planning to take this summer, seeing as I’ll be working from the 17th of April ’til the end of May. ‘Course, there won’t be any tutorials on weekends — still, fitting German and Advanced Italian lessons into my now-cramped-schedule would have to be put on hold indefinitely. Oh, well… I guess self-help language books would come in handy.

I hope Big G helps me out again this year - I dunno where I’m gonna get the funds to purchase each and every textbook for my sophomore year in Medschool.

Funny but I kinda miss the classroom seats. Hm.

Mitch. Always the oddball.

Gusto ko magkunwari…magkunwari na ok tayo…na tulad pa rin ng dati. Darating ang araw na maiiwanan ko rin ang lahat ng ito, pero ngayon, sana…hayaan mo lang na magpanggap ako, hanggang sa makayanan ko nang gumalaw ng wala ka sa isip ko. Wala nang saysay, wala na ring halaga…pero kahit pa, gusto ko sabihin na mahal pa rin kita.

Gusto ko magkunwari…magkunwari na kasama pa rin kita…na magkatabi tayo ngayon, at inaawitan kita nito.

Di ko man maamin
Ikaw ay mahalaga sa akin
Di ko man maisip
Sa pagtulog ikaw ang panaginip
Malabo man ang aking pag-iisip
Sana’y pakinggan mo ang sigaw nitong damdamin

Ako’y alipin mo kahit hindi batid
Aaminin ko minsan ako’y manhid
Sana ay iyong naririnig
Sayong yakap ako’y nasasabik

Ayoko sa iba
Sayo  ako ay hindi magsasawa
Ano man ang iyong sabihin
Umasa ka ito ay diringgin
Madalas man na parang aso’t pusa
Giliw sa piling mo ako ay masaya

Ako’y alipin mo kahit hindi batid
Aaminin ko minsan ako’y manhid
Sana ay iyong naririnig
Sayong yakap ako’y nasasabik

Pilit mang abutin ang mga tala
Basta’t sa akin wag kang mawawala

Ako’y alipin mo kahit hindi batid
Aaminin ko minsan ako’y manhid
Sana ay iyong naririnig
Sayong yakap ako’y nasasabik
Pagkat ikaw lang ang nais makatabi
Malamig man o mainit ang gabi
Nais ko sana iparating na ikaw lamang
Ang siyang aking iibigin

Alipin - by Shamrock

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Gusto ko magkunwari…