In Need To Crash and Bloom

I need a place to crash into once in awhile. I missed having a pad where my rules rule every square foot (next to the landlady, that is). I don't want anything fancy like aircon or a wall to wall carpet. A private TB is a must as well as a private entrance. I used to have one and the owners and me got along quite fine. My friends would crash in from time to time and I would have the freedom to come home at the break of dawn if I wanted to.

I can eat tuna and sardines straight out of the can or suddenly make rolled sushi on a whim. I don't smoke but I can burn incense without having someone to complain behind my back. I don't have a radio and my phone doubles as an mp3 player. But I can't space out the way I used to with someone constantly barging into my room with some mundane chores just to get me out of the room.

So I need a pad, a small room with windows overlooking the world below. I need a place where my books can be respectably arranged in their own shelves. I need a door thatI can keep locked when I am not around. I want a space that is distinctly me, not just a bed space with my pillow and blanket.

Finally I need a place to crash into when I don't want to deal with the rest of the world. I need a quiet corner where I can bawl over my own stupidity or laugh hysterically over a joke that most people might not find funny at all. I need a place where I can critique myself without hearing someone's unwanted 'sage' advice. I need my own space....to crash into when I want to die and to be my cocoon from which I can emerge at least a bit smarter.

Please name the disease....

What is wrong with them?

I am unusually irritated by people who are not just wide-eyed with curiousity but with in-your-face self-righteous crap that barely masks envy. They would usually chide you for having material excess and casually suggest for you to toss things their way, literally. Their favorite speech always has something to do with coming from a Poor Family (emphasis on the Poor) and doing everything to help support the younger siblings.

Their attempts to sound modern and fluent grate public hearing. They bungle the language but will be ultimately offended if you correct them. They use your lipstick like a permanent marker and make ducklips all day. They roll their eyes at your new shoes but badger you in letting them fit the pair. Sucking up to the boss and parroting memos are favorite activities.

Soon they show up wearing accessories and tops similar to yours. They're not shy about asking for hand-me-downs, too. If you had the misfortune of inviting them to your pad, they will raid your closets and ask: "which ones are you no longer using?"

If there's one thing I am thankful, it hasn't gone to asking for your boyfriend's friends' numbers. Or insisting to meet your friends outside work. But, please God, when Starbucks opens this year, I need to find reasons to avoid them or find more hole-in-the-wall sanctuaries. To be not seen in a place to be seen seems a sin to them. Just because you can now afford means you can afford.

Ahhh...bitch mode...smiling may now commence....

Thank God I'm back!!!

Thank God I'm back!!!

I'm on my way. I'm bound to unload some unwanted luggage which comes in many forms. Plus that the office gave me back access to my blog.

Here's a big kiss to the rest of the world!

When Words Cannot Suffice

I sing odes to you

Though you'll never hear

How my lips pine for your taste

How my body longs for your breath .

A mystery you are to me

When you wanted me

When I ran wanton and free.

But now that you caught me in your gilded cage,

What song must I sing

To make you dream of me again?

The slightest graze of your fingers

Burn me endlessly.

Your gaze strip me unbearably

My heart you had taken completely.

Now I shiver in this palace you built me

Walls of glass, my couches draped with silk.

Though the hearth burns with the bluest flames

You have yet to favor me

With a complete minute

Of you and I

Alone.

teach me....break me....love me....

Teach me not to hate you....
You sought me not but I was cleverly caught...
You seemed an angel that night.
You drive me to despair and woo me with the ease
that would have made Casanova proud.
You know me so well.... My deepest desires...
the very temptations that I swore to oblivion
You personified...
You brought to life my blackened heart
and took it where it should be...
purified and blazing still
in the ocean of your soul...
Though I beg for sweet release...
I pray that you never let me go....

.....apartment bliss...

Room 404...my dad and nearly everyone in my family groaned at the prospect of having to climb up three flights of stairs with all my stuff and more. But the privacy of my own place won me over. The view is not so bad. The tiled floor is in a good condition and the water service is hardly interrupted. I'm still without a bedframe so I'm sleeping on the floor. My mom bought the ref and my dad helped me haul everything up the stairs. I still need a radio, a shoe rack (according to someone I know), a single-burner stove, a respectable dining table for two and an extra storage closet for my stuff. I plan to move my lavender here with me once it becomes more sturdier and healthier.

So here's to the start of a long flight....

Helping and healing....

Two words that would make a difference all the time.

There is that a part of me that for the most part of my life I cannot begin to understand. Those who knew me call it my pure heart...a heart that I cannot seem to control. How can it remain so pure? Why am I driven to make my life more earthly (is there such a word) as if I am running away from being taken back to heaven (making it sound so mundane)?

I still can't stop myself from putting the essentials on the line so that I can take away the pain of another. I know...we should avoid doing everything at our own expense. It is just so stupid (this word is so apt) but still I can't help doing it.

Nowadays, I still dream of running away, of walking away after I have done my part in this world. I am so tired. But there is just so much to be done....

Rainy days, K-Pop, and everything else....

While I'm writing this, I am listening to K-pop through my student who begins each class with a current favorite pop song. The weather is more than crazy today.... I have been living in this city for more than a quarter of the century and I still haven't gotten used to its weather....and its people....

I guess I'm one of those people who is lulled to sleep by rain and fighting every second of it. As of now, the skies outside are blue with a touch of grey...the dreariness of this day makes it hard to breathe....

Being Sheepish............

Looks like this year's forecast for those born in the year of the Sheep is rather dismal. I don't want to acknowledge it but I wonder if it did start all wrong for everybody (me, included). Of course, the economic crisis is no itsy-bitsy rain cloud but had become an ominous thunderhead over the world.

I know I wasn't a good girl all year last year and I'm not really good being a girl. I think like a boy and if I were a boy, I'd probably have two little boys of my own by now. By profession, I am a teacher. But to the world, I guess I'm still in third grade or something.

Babe in the woods, as the old people would say. Not worth watching out for except for the occasional get-out-of-the-way yells. I guess I'm not much of a people person. Headbutting is not a sport but a part of a routine. Lately though, I'm laying low and keeping to myself. I daren't crack jokes (I don't think I was ever gifted with a sense of humor, just a severe case of blahs.)

But it doesn't mean I can't do anything besides chewing. I'm just being sheepish....

Sundays Are Supposed To Be Sunny

When the fire of friendship eventually dies down to pitiful embers, where does one get the necessary kindling to feed its forlorn gasps? Who should you blame for its unnatural descent to the demise of indifference? Time, fate, circumstance, distance, growing up........ We all have different reasons, different names for that unnatural cause to a perennial, bittersweet chapter of our existence in this world.I may not always need my friends as they might not always need me. Nevertheless, I will love them in ways more than they can love me. But this day's pall had stripped them of the unschooled allure, showing them in their somewhat bizarre but wonderful individuality that endeared them to me more.Maybe those years of my absence from their company and my stubborn need to give my inner self some breathing room had indeed taken its toll. I know the words I'm looking for are neither personal growth nor moving on (whatever that means). Whatever it is, if the powers that be see it fit that I only savor its essence but not its name, so be it. Less words, less trouble, so they say. For it is that piece of me that relishes that form of peace this universe manages to give out scraps of.To feel and detached and cherished by your peers at the same time, is this what humanity feels or I'm just running low on caffeine? Maybe I'm just ranting and whining about bad hair day or I just hate it when it rains on a Sunday.

Thought May Be Private But.....

Perhaps there are some things one needs to hide and these secrets are the ones that actually set your person apart from the rest of the world. Like an exotic scent that attracts and repels at the same time. Why can't people read the signs and keep out of other people's minds for a change? Where can we send these mind readers for a well-meaning exile?I really miss the days where I can stand the roar of silence and revel in my solitude. Have I changed that much? Or is this just whining about people I want to avoid but just can't. I really wish I believed in vampires so that I can give reason to their existence.
From what I have read, vampires don’t have to bloodsuckers. They can be everyday people who just drain the life out of people just by simply breathing next to them. Okay. Now that’s extremely farfetched. But it can happen. What about the so-called psychic vampires?What are psychic vampires anyway? Can they also be mind readers? Or this mind reader is just a nosy person who discovered he had the gift of actually tapping into someone's mental stronghold? Heavens help us, heaven help me. His words shouldn't have stung but spacing out in his presence sounded like an abomination in his presence. I wasn’t really spacing out. Just losing myself in a book seemed a far more attractive option than acknowledging his existence. Besides, I think you only go to dreamworld in your sleep.I wonder if I lost that what used to set me apart. Or is he just leading me down a path of confusion making me think that I did lose it? What was he seeking? What purpose drives his words? I forgot the name but I know there was such a flower which is both beautiful and evil at the same time. Was it really a flower or a beast? But then again, gifts are meant to be used and the path to choose is one's prerogative.