Don’t Look Back

The things you’re working on now are all looking into the bright future that is almost within your midst. Do not look back.

You hear a certain call from your past. You are reminded of your past, and it oozes the last remaining drops from that which filled you once. You are called to another chance to revisit it, it’s just a glance anyway. Don’t fall prey. Do not look back.

What is the point in spending time and effort to revisit the past? Just leave everything to memory. There is no need to catch up. There is no need to even ask how one is doing lately, or what had really happened before. There are good reasons why those things remain in the past, and there is no need to unearth these reasons. Leave them be, forget them. Do not look back.

There is no point to look back on something that has no future. Keep your eyes on the future, it’s about to unfold. And when you find it, everything else in the past will finally make sense.

Tsubibo

Ocean_City_Ferris_WheelIsang simpleng teleserye na araw-araw kong pinapanuod ang biglang humatak sakin pababa sa isang kumunoy ng ala-ala. Bakit kailangan siyang dalhin sa perya, isakay sa isang tsubibo, hangad lamang ang kaligayahan, ang pag-ibig nito? Hindi ba ganoon din ang ginawa niya dati? Pinaibig ka, dinala sa isang malayong lugar na masaya, isinakay sa isang malaking tsubibo at hinawakan ang iyong kamay? At kung tama ang aking pagka-alala, takot siya sa matataas na lugar, o sinabi lang ba niya ito para makahawak ng mas mahigpit sa iyong mga kamay?

Pagbaba ninyo nang gabi rin iyon, napuno ang kalangintan ng makukulay at maliwanag na paputok. Isa iyon sa pinaka-maligayang sandali ng buhay mo noon. Pakiramdam mo ikaw ay prinsesa, ngunit hindi, sabi niya, ikaw ang reyna at siya ang hari ng buhay mo. Hanggang pauwi ay halos hindi niya bitawan ang iyong kamay. Pinagmamasdan ka kahit dapat nasa daanan ang kaniyang mga mata habang nagmamaneho. Sa inyo lang umikot ang mundo noon. Wala nang iba. Halos maniwala ka na sa walang hanggan noon. Sino ba naman hindi maniniwala habang ikaw ay nasa mala-panaginip na mundo?

Pero sabi nga nila, walang forever. Pero nakakagulat din ang bilis ng mga pangyayari, gaano kabilis ang paglaho at pag-gunaw ng kung ano man ang namagitan sa inyo noon. Hindi mo na ninais na balikan pa ang sakit at kabiguan, tuluyan mo nang sinubukang kalimutan. Madaming taon na ang nakalipas. Halos hindi mo na nga maalala, maliban sa mga paminsan-minsang mga panahon tulad nito.

Napapaisip ka nga kung kilala ka ba ng nagsulat ng teleseryeng iyon. Sinasadiya ba ng mundo na ipa-alala sayo? O baka naman, masyado ka lang affected.

A different kind of throwback thursday – A letter to my future husband

Because the past may be about the future that isn’t in the present yet…


September 7, 2011

Dear love of my life,

I am having breakfast and coffee by my own right now, and I just thought of writing you a letter. How very much I wish you were here with me because I know any morning started with you will just be a wonderful day no matter what. I know you can’t be here now. Not yet.

It would’ve been nice to tell you that I had a nice drive to work today, or maybe even how wonderful the ride was with you driving. I would’ve wanted to tell you about my plans for the day. Imagine all the funny, absurd, geeky, serious, and all other things we could talk about. Imagine how we couldn’t run out of things to talk about. I sweep off all the strawberry syrup and whipped cream I could with my waffle slices, and you don’t mind. We finish our waffles and coffee, and you tell me I could beat Starbucks belgian waffles and coffee anytime. I promise you I’ll cook for you tomorrow, and any other day you would crave for them. We know it’s time to part for the meantime, you walk me to my office and kiss me goodbye. I tell you how much I look forward to see you at the end of the day.

It would’ve been wonderful to spend the morning with you, but I understand why you can’t be here now. You probably are somewhere driving to work alone and just having brewed coffee from the office pantry. You don’t know me yet. You still haven’t found me. I don’t know who you are yet. You could be anywhere.

But don’t mind me yet. I am happily having breakfast by my own at a corner starbucks near the office. Happy, because I know how blessed I already am, even on my own. Happy thinking of a wonderful morning in the future spent with you.

I’m done with my waffles already, but will probably walk back to the office with a half-full cup of latte. I look forward to seeing you when the time comes. 🙂

Dear Charity

Dear Charity,

Do you remember this? blue day book–>

It’s the blue day book you gave me many years ago. Yes, I still have it, and I found it lately whilst sorting through my stuff. Even many years after, many thanks for it, not just for that tiny booklet, but for the short but sweet message in the end.

Do you still remember that fateful day that we met? It was the first day of our freshman year in college. We were still so young, and so carefree. Don’t you miss being like that, like 17 again, and so enthusiastic and open to the world? I do remember being the first one to approach and talk to you, how lucky was I that we were seatmates during the the first day of freshman orientation. In all honesty, the me you met during that time is the real me, no pretensions.

How I miss being like that, just being very open to everyone around me. So many things have happened since. Many people have judged and treated me wrongly, taken my friendliness out of context. Bit by bit, with every disappointing moment that people have mistaken my friendliness for a desperate call for attention, I withdrew from the world and built my own shell that grew thicker with every passing moment.

Thank you for that little note in that tiny booklet that reminded me of how I used to be. I wish I can become like that again. Perhaps it is possible, since once upon a time I was so happy and enthusiastic about meeting and interacting with new people around me. I wish I can start trusting people again. I wish I can start trusting and entrusting myself to other people again.

I wish you love and happiness always. Know that even though we may have not seen each other a long time, my friendship for you remains in my heart.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

Letting go. Sometimes, it’s the most difficult thing to do. Not only of letting go people from our lives, but also of letting go of memories, of mementos, and of ways that we have gotten used to.

I’m not quite sure what really changed in me that I finally got to working on letting go of a number of things in my life. But after 28 years of my life, I finally got to slowly getting rid of my hoarded stuff.

I have such a big thing for stuffed toys all my life. Believe it or not, I had a bunch of them in my room until early last year. I was able to cut it down to four just late last year. But now I intend to just have one left. I’ve sent my two favorite bears and my 21 y.o. cabbage patch doll for cleaning, and have stored them in a sealed bag, saving them until eventually when my kids arrive. Those are the three things I can never throw away, but I’m taking them away from my bedroom now.

I also have two big boxes full of “mementos” – or mostly ancient old letters, documents, notebooks, and what-nots. I’ve been going through them and trying to throw away unimportant ones, and setting aside important ones for proper filing. I have so far thrown away one whole trashbag full of shredded paper, and another plastic bag of unnecessary clutter. Soon I’ll try to throw away much more. I want to retain only the stuff that I may check or read back in the future, important or landmark documents, and things that may be interesting to display by my 50th birthday or at my funeral, whichever comes first. Sorry to say, but seems I’m throwing away much of the random notes and letters from gradeschool and highschool. But special mention to the people who’ve sent me the most sincere, creative, and cute letters ever, my gradeschool friends Franzel, Regina, and Pearlie. Next are my highschool chums Pia, Roma, and Joyce. I may throw away the paper, but never the memories 🙂

I’m also set to clean up my old digital files. Will try to just find the most important ones to keep, and then delete everything else. Will try to use the same criteria that I used to clear out my big boxes.

I am travelling light from now on. It is time to keep light to be able to fly farther. *wink*

“Letters are just pieces of paper. Burn them and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish” ~ Watanabe, Norwegian Wood (Haruki Murakami)

The farmer-girl in me

I was born and raised in the city all my life. But believe it or not, part of me is a “farmer”, or better yet, a probinsiyana. Since I was very young, I was sent to the province every year to spend my summer vacation there. As a young girl, I thought that was a norm. I thought every kid had their own province where they spend their vacations at. I thought it was normal to run along the rice fields, to know how palay is transformed into milled rice, to feel the smell of freshly harvested red onions.

My dad came from a farming family, because his father and grandfather were farmers. My mom came from the province too, where their family also owns farmlands. They were both “landed” (or land owners) but they knew pretty much the rules of the soil.

A short ode to my dad who is a big part of my probinsiyana roots. A few anecdotes:

  • There was a mobile phone commercial on TV bragging about how realistic their screen graphics were, and because of this the chicken was “sitting” on the eggs shown on its screen. It caught my dad’s attention and quickly mumbled, “bakla yang manok na yan” (“that chicken is gay”), because apparently the chicken they used for the commercial is actually a rooster. But most other people couldn’t tell the difference, could they?
  • There is a big rice exhibit in the middle of our museum, which features a number of actual different rice grains embedded in clear resin. When my dad saw this, he started to name the different varieties. There weren’t any labels there, but he was sure of those he was naming, like it’s second nature to him.
  • We were in a faraway province one weekend, and during the morning I heard a chicken clucking. I asked my dad, “nangingitlog ba yung manok na yun?” (“is that chicken laying an egg?”). He quickly responded, “hinde, tandang lang ang tumutunog ng ganyan” (“no, only roosters sound like that”). I wouldn’t have ever known.
  • My dad has explained to me the ENTIRE PROCESS of planting and growing rice, including the different styles and their effect on yield, the different requirements, and the post processing after harvest. All of those information he knows by experience. He’s a consultant now (for something else other than farming) but when they have projects for farming communities in different provinces, he is able to communicate well with them since he really knows what he is talking about.

The province is a wonderful place to learn the deepest tagalog I could ever fathom or the wonderful dialect of the Kapampangan. It was wonderful to walk to the market in the morning to grab the freshest meats and vegetables for the day’s meal. It is also the best place to eat the heartiest meals, especially during fiestas. There were perya (small carnival) and sayawan (dance party) and tiangge (bazaars) during fiestas too.

What else? Uhm, carabao milk, eating frogs and some insects (cooked of course), my love for caldereta and papait na kambing, driving an owner jeep, climbing trees, shooting birds with a slingshot, and so many other things… Now I know I am much blessed to have spent a very interesting childhood summers in the province.