The Plunge
I stood on the edge of the topmost floor, the 103rd floor of the Westinghouse Towers on the corner of Milesville Avenue. I spread my arms as far as their flexibility would allow and extended my fingers gracefully. I closed my eyes and felt the strong breeze caressing my face. I basked under the blinding sunlight; it was stinging and skinning my face alive but I never thought of moving. It felt so good I could stay there until my face darkened like the surface of an old wood. I breathed…and breathed…and breathed deeply until my lungs hurt. The smell of the cosmopolitan–the sweat of rushing people, bumping onto others (even pushing them) every now and then, the fumes coming from worn-down vehicles and second-hand public buses from Japan, the pollution, the piles of garbage in colossal trash bins where destitute children usually dive in to find treasure–it all pleasantly picked my olfactory nerves like the way my Mother’s Yardley Narcissus perfume would excite me. Ahh, that day was a beautiful day and there was just no room for anything ugly; even those which were so never came across me as such. I felt great and elevated. I was all ready to take the plunge.
I opened my eyes to the beautiful sight of the azure firmament, almost unbroken by small clusters of fat, snowy clouds. And there on my face, a big, truly happy smile was painted across it…and then I put my right foot forward as if I was about to take a step. My left foot was now in a tiptoeing position—I was standing there graciously like a ballerina exuding superb finesse, refinement, poise and elegance sans the light pink tutu skirt. Let go, let go, let go, my mind melodiously and softly sang to my ears. And before I knew it, I was freely flying like an eagle—only that my direction was vertical, straight downwards.
My life flashed before me like a short film as I came closer to the ground. But I shook it off immediately as I did not want it to corrupt the beauty of that very moment I was falling. My existence on this Earth has never been something that I would covet to relive if I were to be reincarnated. So I just embraced the moment and allowed the gravity to pull me downwards (as if I had a choice!) Ahh, was it a beautiful feeling to fall from the peak! I could feel the wind against my face and it gave me the feeling of diving into something, a beautiful unknown. And oh, was it liberating too! As I was being sucked by the ground, I felt the wind stripping me off all the heavy burden–the problems–on my back that this world conferred to me until I felt so light like a floating feather in the air! I was purged of all the loads and pains with no name, sorrow and grief that I carried all my life! Oh, it was a cathartic experience!
I looked back and I saw them so far behind me. They grew smaller and smaller until they became as little as the tiny particles you see sailing in the air in a spot where the sunrays are abundantly pouring. And they vanished. I know they went drifting in the atmosphere to find other human beings to carry them.
I was exhilarated to know I was finally free! I was bathing in endless rays of freedom!
And then.
THUD.
My left temple felt the first beautifully violent collision with the ground. It was all too rapid, like the speed of sound, that I barely had any time to feel the pain. My vision was already blurry but I managed to see the last beautiful thing of that journey: The river of fresh crimson red blood, gently flowing to my lifeless fingers.
***Before you jump to conclusions that I’m psychotic and suicidal, or I receive messages urging me to seek help or referring me to a psychiatrist, or having me arrested as a possible culprit of a school shootout, I would like you to know that what you have just read is entirely fictional and that if it sounded exactly like your experience, then it’s merely a coincidence. Well, if it were not fictional, I wouldn’t be sitting here in front of this computer, typing it, would I?
It was inspired by a scene from the movie “Stranger Than Fiction”, starring, among others, Will Ferrell, Queen Latifah and Emma Thompson. In said scene, Emma Thompson was standing on top of a table, imagining herself to be on top of a building about to jump. I just loved the way she described the feeling of leaping off a building. Well, if you’re a loony like me, go see the movie.
I am in excellent mental condition, no worries. 
The Valorous Queen
She is beautiful. She is courage and strength regally personified. She fights until she receives signs that she should just leave matters into the Hands of God. She exudes the bravery of a true, fierce warrior and knows exactly the right time to use it. She is the epitome of what it is really to be a woman. And above all, I lover her beyond what it truly means to love.
Alright, before your naughty mind wanders off somewhere and starts formulating questions about my sexual orientation, I would like to clear out that I am not talking about an inamorata of mine. The words clothing my thoughts right now speak of no one but the Valorous Queen of my heart–MY MOTHER.
But before I reached my present age, I never saw my Mother in such positive lens. That doesn’t mean I hated her, of course. It was just that my eyes were too myopic to see her positive qualities as a mother, as a woman. Our differences blurred my sight and I never got to appreciate her for what and who she truly is–a loving mother to me.
We are very different, she and me. To name some, she’s a classic portrait of a pre-feminism mother–she’s very good at doing household chores: cooking, taking care of the children, keeping the house all white, shiny and spick-and-span, and all those activities usually attached to a typical mother. I, on the other hand, am not friends with Mrs. Household Chores. Don’t ask about how bad I’m at it. I just find it very tedious and mind-numbing. I would rather sit in one place all day and read 50 volumes of the encyclopedia (so OK, I’m trying to justify myself here a little). And that difference would always start a fight between us.
I remember one lazy Thursday afternoon, I was lying on our comfy couch, reading a COBOL book of my Dad (it’s a technical-computer book, in case you’re wondering). Though I didn’t quite understand the technical words and computer jargon written all over the pages, I was still fascinated and enjoyed it very much (that’s how loony I was…and still am). When I was about to turn to the next page, I felt a sudden, stinging pain on my forehead and shouted—OOOOOOOUCH! I looked up and what I saw scared me to death: It was my mother, her hands on her hips (the left one holding a broom), nose fuming and eyes fiery, burning with so much anger that if looks could kill, I would have died twice already. “Get your derriere out there and arrange the bookshelf that you have just messed up!” she said in between her furious, almost labored breathing. “I’ll do that later…after I read THIS!” I retorted, rubbing my forehead. “LATER?! And when will you finish reading that? Next month?! No later! I want it done NOW, you procrastinating little hoodlum! One day, your procrastinating would kill you!”. “Mom…” but before I could finish saying anything, I received another hit on the forehead. Another shout of ouch echoed in the living room. “Alright, alright! Stop that! And is THAT necessary?” She threateningly brandished her broom and not wanting to get a “naturally painted” bindi on my forehead, a bruise, that is, I ran and did as I was told.
But there’s one difference between us that finally opened my eyes—and heart—to see the person behind those ferociously beautiful eyes. Her BRAVERY.
As I’ve mentioned at the outset, my Mother is very brave, strong and courageous. I may have the latter two, but I lack that which makes us different: Bravery. And that’s what I truly admire her for.
She faces every battle fiercely, without any thread of fear lining and uglifying her face. Oh, many times I have witnessed her confront the biggest battles of her life and she never showed any sign of weakness or willingness to easily give up! She chooses the battles she fights and exactly knows when rightly to use her valor—unlike some people who display pretentious bravery at times when it is not needed, but when the situation calls for it they cower and whimper like injured dogs. And she knows when to quit too.
I, on the other hand, am not as brave as her. I don’t mean to indulge in self-glorification but I’m more of a patient person (which is a euphemistic fashion of saying that I’m cowardice personified!). When, for instance, some girl who has nothing better to do with her life pick on me or concoct lies about me, I tend to just take a deep breath and pray for more patience. One more and you’ll be dead, dear, I’d tell myself…until I’d be telling myself that for the 273rd time and still I wouldn’t budge. I would only “stoop to her level” (yes, that’s some mantra that helps me keep my patience that long, too) when my patience reaches its snapping point. And once it snaps, oh boy, you don’t want to know what I can do! I myself don’t want to know! I completely go mental, I lose self-control, everything just turns black and I evolve into a mere instrument of my anger, the dark side of me—I lose all traces of my humanness. No one would want to see me mad. I’m like a volcano that violently erupts after having been dormant for a thousand years. (I’m more like my Dad. He too is very patient and rarely gets mad. But when he does, better save all your valuable furniture because he would surely vent out his anger on them! Hahaha!).
If my Mom were in the same scenario, she would face the situation straight, no side-swaying, no pretenses and no mantras of “I won’t stoop to her level”. She would confront the problem right there and then without any fear and resolve it.
And how did seeing her bravery appreciate my Mother?
It made me realize that after all those Hurricane-Katrina like spats I used to have with her, all she ever wanted to do was to protect me, to take care of me and to love me. It was through her bravery that I saw what she is capable to do to fight for me. I witnessed in many instances how she waged war against other people who, in one way or another, tried to harm me. But I was too blinded to see that. I allowed our differences to get in the way.
Perhaps, my Mother has her own way of showing me her love and it wasn’t something that I could have easily and readily appreciated, given my puerile mind then (and now?). But now that my eyes have penetrated through what lies beyond that sheath of superficiality ensconcing, swathing who she really is, her true beauty, I will always appreciate my Mother for everything that she does for me. Yes, we will still have our little fracases, little arguments and disagreements and yes, we will still be very much different…but she will always be the beautiful, valorous queen of my heart beyond eternity…
Thank you, dear readers. I heart you all. :)
It’s weird how I get a lot of e-mails/messages from people, both from my friends list and strangers, telling me how much they enjoy reading my posts. It’s both overwhelming and humbling to hear others say that what I dismiss as a total nonsense actually makes sense to them. Ironies! There’s one Fil-Am lady from San Diego who sent me a message and told me that my writings are like those of Jessica Zafra! I was like, oh my god, Jessica Zafra? She’s my idol in the local literary scene! So it felt really nice to be compared to her. Another one, a student from London said, "Very powerful writing. It evoked emotions in me. Only good writing can do that. I love it! Keep it coming, gal!" I just feel so delighted every time I get those laudatory words from people–well, it’s not getting into my head or anything…sometimes, I even think that they might just be joking or making fun of me or being sardonic and that I just don’t get it. But either way, those paint a big smile on my stupid face.
I actually never considered myself a good writer. I don’t know if I should even consider myself as A WRITER sans the adjective "good" despite the praises my posts have so far received. Well, I guess if I would receive a Nobel Prize award for the literary category then perhaps that’s the time I could rightfully regard myself as a writer. A good writer. As for now, I’m just some psychotic, weird, average, ordinary girl who loves to share with others what’s inside her cluttered head.
I’ve always loved expressing myself through writing. I can get a message across better in the written form than orally. I’m more of a writer than a speaker, really. I get a lot more creative when I sit down with a pen and a page of a newspaper with a huge advertisement space on it than when I open my mouth and force words from my throat to come out. I love writing and the opportunity it gives me to play with words. Oh, I LOVE writing and words! And people like you, readers, who give me positive responses prompt me to hone my "writing skill" and come up with "literary works" which are worth your time.
Now that I’ve received some praises and that I know I actually have many people who waste 5 minutes of their precious time reading the extractions of my dysfunctional brain, I’ll be more responsible with what I write here. I’ll make sure that I write something worthwhile.
Thank you, dear readers. You inject life, energy and passion in my writing (not only with respect to my blog posts)! I won’t disappoint you, I pinky swear!
Indies, Love Teams and Poverty.
I don’t mean to sound like a xenophile but I’ve never liked Filipino movies, especially those big-budget ones and produced by big film companies. And I don’t think that I’ll ever like them anytime in the future either.
But there’s one category of Filipino movies that seemed to have won my ever elusive heart—Filipino indie films.
When they first burst into the local movie industry, I just shrugged it off and thought that they’re just like those big-budget, cheesy local movies with sloppy storylines and the presence of the never-dying love team (that makes me want to puke). But I learned about this particular indie film which won several awards and obtained praises overseas. That provoked my curiosity about local indie films and prompted me to watch it—Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros.
I was awed at the beauty, purity, honesty and truthfulness of the film. It was a very simple story but it made an unfathomable impact on me simply because it depicted REALITY. It showed the real Philippines, the real lives of millions of Filipinos. There was no love team (well, technically, that is. The main character, Maxi, fell in love with a policeman); the story was something that everybody in this country has or could go through; and the setting was in a poverty-stricken community of Manila, not some elegant mansions at Forbes Park that are usually used as the setting in big-budget films. In compressed words, the movie reflected something that is extant, prevalent in Philippine society.
So why can’t local big film companies serve us with quality movies like Maximo?
FIRST. They think that our IQ is way lower than that of a moron.
We, the Filipino people, (I’m not about to recite the preamble of the 1987 Consitution!) are very intelligent people so I’m wondering why big film companies keep dishing out movies that are a big insult to our actual capability to appreciate intellectual films! It is truly unfair for them to underestimate the intelligence of their own people. They should realize that we are not as stupid as they think we are! Well, it is THEM who are stupid in the first place for ever thinking that our brains are only capable of comprehending and appreciating movies about mushy love stories or for thinking that we don’t care about good storylines and witty dialogues for as long as Judy Ann Santos and Piolo Pascual are the main stars. YUCK.
SECOND. It’s all about the money, honey.
Money is a good thing, most of the time. But oftentimes, it can be a destroyer too. What jeopardizes the quality of Filipino films produced by big-budget films is the greed for money: the producers are concerned with nothing but how the movie can gross millions of pesos! Their main goal is not to create a film that is thought-provoking, that feeds the mind or that gives something that people can learn something about BUT how to make sure that the movie does not become a commercial flop! And one way to attain that with great certainty is to make entertaining-only movies, movies that would provide an avenue for impoverished, indigent people to escape from their hellish lives for one or two hours! So they make mawkish, syrupy, maudlin love-story movies because they know that myriad of the viewers are dreaming about having fairy-tale, happy-ending love stories of their own, which sadly exist only within the bounds of fantasyland (and I think that even if the viewers are not disillusioned by the existence of a Cinderella kind of story, they would still be entertained—Filipinos just LOVE love stories, don’t you think? Notice how they would suddenly get excited when they hear, for example, a friend with a blossoming love life or how local celebrity gossip shows talk about who’s dating who?), or they make entertainment-only movies, movies which seem to be for-kids-only but are actually for adults (like Enteng Kabisote. Forgive me if you’re a fan of the said movie.) because they know that nobody would want to crack his brain, thinking, analyzing and deciphering an intellectual movie when he is burdened with social and economic problems!
It is about time that local moviemakers dish up films which tackle our reality. It is about time that they make movies that depict our socio-economic and political problems. It is about time that they educate us about what’s really going on in our surroundings. It is about time that they create movies that will open our eyes, provoke us to take action and take the initiative to do something about the problems that have long been thriving in our midst—and that could perhaps be the initial step to realizing the holistic development we have yearned for so many years…
***
One of the issues that Maximo tackled, which I’m really glad it showed, is our persisting problem of abiding by the mandates of the law. The issue was personified by Victor, the principled policeman who not only tried his best to do his job but made sure that the law prevailed. He was threatened and beaten up by the residents of the impoverished area where he was deployed for the simple reason that he tried to uphold the law!
In this jurisdiction, committing infractions of the law, left and right, on a daily basis is the GENERAL RULE; obeying it is the rare exception. Those who choose to abide by what the law commands are exterminated, while those who treat the law as nothing but a meaningless piece of paper with highfaluting, flowery words scribbled on it THRIVE and live longer.
Such kind of mindset that we have is one of the major causes why we are not progressing, why a substantial portion of our population is way under the poverty line, and why we are almost reduced to anarchism and barbarism! Our reluctance to obey the law and the absence of our respect for it, and our lack of self-discipline reflect the sorry state of our country. This is indeed a pressing problem that not only needs to be addressed but resolved.
And how do we resolve such a huge, colossal, ubiquitous problem of unashamed disobedience to the law?
LET US BEGIN WITH OURSELVES.
To my dear, beloved detractors.
“Greatness inspires envy; envy engenders spite; spite spawns liES."
–Tom Marvolo Riddle, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince–
This is one of the quotes that I live by and will pass on to my own progeny. I read it in the penultimate installment of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. Though it was uttered by the saga’s main and biggest antagonist in a conversation with Albus Dumbledore, it has not failed to strike me in an enlightening kind of way. The words—the undeniable TRUTH and WISDOM they hold—have remained with me to this day. They’re deeply more etched in my mind because in my 21 years of existence, I’ve been the favorite subject of rumors, gossips and blatant lies. I’ve been bombarded with criticisms that almost caused me a nervous breakdown.
It was truly difficult when I got my first taste of negative criticism from people I didn’t even know. I would go home desolate, broken. I would cry every night, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong with me. When the unsolicited vilification continued for a considerable length of time, I lost my self-esteem and confidence. I felt that I must be oozing with so much evil that nobody could make himself/herself like me. I felt so alone, unwanted and disliked—even though my parents were around to show me unconditional love and care. They’re my parents so what do you expect? They have to love me whether they like it or not, I would think to myself.
But my Father told me something that is quite similar to Mr. Riddle’s statement. He said, “When a tree is young and short and is surrounded by taller trees, it doesn’t get rattled by the strong winds. But when it grows and eventually becomes the tallest among the trees, it gets swayed violently by strong breeze and loses some of its leaves, branches and boughs, right?” “RIGHT,” I said with sincerity and strong conviction. Hearing those words from my father felt like finally finding the answer to an old-age conundrum that has bothered one for a long time. I felt like rising up from the dead. I was rejuvenated: My life, which was taken by my detractors, has been given back to me. I felt ready to live once more as ME, as MYSELF and NOBODY ELSE.
When you are at the zenith, it is but natural that others, who cannot hide their green, evil eyes no more, would do anything to put you down. So when you find yourself in such situation, you just have to ignore them and just keep doing what you have to do. You have to make sure that they don’t succeed in causing your downfall. That’s what I learned from that period of being maligned at such a young age.
But at the same time, I also had to learn WHEN to listen and WHOM to listen to. It’s right to just brush off people trash talking you; but sometimes, you also have to listen and consider what others say about you because you might already be stepping on other people’s rights and whatnot. Our individual freedom is limited by the rights of others—this is something that you have to remember alongside Mr. Riddle’s pronouncement. You cannot adopt that “I’ll just do my thing and I don’t care what other people say” attitude all the time. You need to know how to strike a balance…well, unless you want to be abhorred by everyone!!!
Another thing that I’ve learned from my dear, beloved detractors is the value of humility. One of my professors always keeps on reminding me to remain humble despite my achievements (which are quite nothing, really. Nothing extraordinary, believe me). Lord it over people and you’ll have critics, disparagers and hecklers swarming around you, he would say.
I am not implicitly saying here that I am great. NO, there is nothing innately great about me. I’m not even close to being great. I’m just doing what I have to do; I’m just doing what I want to do, that’s all. But some people, I think, are too lazy to do their own share of responsibilities that they cannot measure up to what I do. And so to make them feel not so bad about themselves, they start talking about me and create lies which they pass on to others as “facts”.
It is beyond my control to stop people from deriding, denigrating or maligning me. This is a free, republican, democratic country where everyone has the right to speech and freely express himself/herself. I cannot control what goes on their minds; they can think whatever they want to think of me—a whore, a pornstar, a bitch, a slut and whatnot. But all of that don’t matter to me anymore as much as it did in yesteryears. What matters to me now is that I am doing what I have and want to do in my own life; that I respect and am not encroaching on anybody’s right; and that I stay humble and prevent myself from lording whatever accomplishments I get over others. They can say whatever they want to say about me, generate as much lies as their tongues can concoct—I AM NOT GOING TO BE AFFECTED FOR AS LONG AS I KNOW THAT I AM STANDING ON THE RIGHT PLACE. I AM NOT GOING TO BE AFFECTED BECAUSE THEY ARE JUST MERE LIES; THEIR CLAIMS WITHOUT BASIS OR PROOF HAVE BEEN BELIED BY WHAT I HAVE SO FAR ACHIEVED IN MY LIFE–FEATS THAT NONE OF THEM HAVE ACCOMPLISHED IN THEIR MANY YEARS OF PATHETIC EXISTENCE IN THIS WORLD.
I feel nothing but pity for those people who’ve got nothing better to do with their lives but pull others down by maligning, weaving a web of aspersions and lies against the latter. In fact, I’ve noticed something common in all my known detractors: it’s either they have really pathetic lives (for instance, still jobless at 29 after bloodily struggling in college—this is REAL, I’m not making it up!) or they have the IQ of a moron or they lack the face value. You know what I mean. I’m not getting back at them, really. It’s true. In general terms, they are not blessed with something that I am in possession of.
What makes this people more pathetic than having badmouthing as their lifetime profession is they cannot see and appreciate what they have and instead waste their lives denigrating others! Why don’t they just make use of what they have and stop coveting what others have? They should realize that every one of us is gifted with unique abilities and skills and we should use them the best way we can! That’s what makes them more pitiable than they already are—they are too consumed by their jealousy, envy and spite that they cannot see that they are too special. We are all special in our own way. We just have to learn how to see and appreciate that about ourselves. If only everyone would realize that he/she is special, I don’t think there would be a single soul on this planet, defaming and creating lies about others.
Nevertheless, a big thank you goes to my detractors because they’ve taught me a lot of things about life as I’ve indicated above, they’ve molded me to become stronger, they inspire me to be better…and they gave me a topic to blog about. Haha!
Sherlock Holmes should solve this mystery.
"Why don’t you have a boyfriend yet? You’re pretty and intelligent!" "Why aren’t you married yet? I’m sure it’s not very hard for you to find a husband!" "Why are you still single?"
I get a lot of those questions thrown my way all the time. I remember my professor (Superman) asking me the same question. I just smiled at him. "You’ll have a boyfriend when you’re 28," he tried to guess. "No, Sir." "What, when you’re 45?" "No, Sir." "…so you intend to live the blessed life of a single?" "Yes, Sir." And there was a huge smile across my face.
Why am I still single/unmarried? I really don’t know but it’s never been a concern for me. I have so much going on, more important things I guess. And I couldn’t care less, really.
See yah later, Sanjaya!
Unfortunately (for fans) or fortunately (for critics), Sanjaya was voted off the show Wednesday night. To some, it’s a disappointment but I’m sure that Mr. Cowell is relieved.
I’m neither a fan nor a critic…but I think that Sanjaya DOES HAVE the voice. The kid can sing, really (please don’t hate me for saying that). I mean he’s not William-Hung bad. I think he just lacks certain singing skills, which if he has could have made his stay in the show longer. His voice lacks power; it’s very, very raw. I think all he needs is a little more training and exposure, that’s all. Believe me, the kid isn’t that horrible.
Away from Sanjaya before I get guillotined for making those statements. I don’t like this season’s batch. There are just very few talented contestants. I’m not impressed with Melinda or Lakisha; we’ve already seen so much of their kind, haven’t we? Chris Richardson, he needs to see a psychiatrist for believing that he is Justin Timberlake. The voice, the style, the hairdo–it’s all patterned after Mr. JT. Come on Chris, we don’t need a clone. I like Blake Lewis, though. He’s unique, he’s different from all other contestants I’ve seen not only on this season. I LURVE him especially when he did "Time of the Season".
My bet as to who’ll win the coveted AI title this season? It’s either Melinda or Jordin. Let’s see.
You are all cordially invited to my wedding this summer :)
I was checking some of my high school friends’ profiles and I literally jumped off my seat when I learned that some of them are already married and some already got kids!
I was really surprised particularly at this one high school acquaintance of mine–surprised because she’s two years younger than me and she’s someone whom you wouldn’t really expect to get married…at all? Hahaha! And she is blessed with one child.
I think I was so shocked by what I learned about my old HS friends that I had a nightmare the other night! The dream was about me getting dolled up by my sister–it was my wedding day! And what makes that nightmarish? Well, because it was a FIXED MARRIAGE and I supposedly haven’t seen the guy until that day! I was getting all these "eewy" feeling and I whispered like a mantra, "No, this is just a dream…just a dream…just a dream…WAKE UP!"
I found myself sitting up straight like I was a lightning-strike victim. I was hyperventilating and sweating like a pig…when I was able to finally catch my breath, I thanked God it was all just a bad dream. I tried to feel myself to make sure that I was already within the bounds of reality and even asked my little sister, "Hey, am I really awake?" She just shot me a bewildered and dismissive look as if to tell me, "You need to see a psychiatrist." From that I inferred that I was out of the nightmare. Phew.
Marriage? Hmm…honestly, I don’t see myself in one. (I told this to a friend and she frowned and said, "Sayang yung genes mo." I smiled and said, "Don’t worry, I’ll participate in an ovum donation program.) I don’t see myself having my own kids. I don’t see myself as a mother. I don’t think I’ll be a good mother, really. I pity the kids whom I would give birth to, if ever (knocks on wood). Perhaps, I can be a good educator, a mentor and mold young minds to become more than they are seemingly destined to be BUT definitely not a mother. I mean I LOVE kids (and I don’t mean that I’m a pedophile!) but I don’t think I’ll be good at taking care of a child–like giving him a bath, feeding him and giving him all my time and attention. You see, I’m not good at housekeeping (though I love to cook). My mother can attest to that. Modesty aside, I can be good at anything but household chores. And I don’t see myself being confined in the four walls of a house doing nothing but looking after the child and sweeping the floor. Not my thing. Sorry.
Deal with a husband? I don’t think so. I’m a feminist and I have this biased idea (biased as it may be, I still FIRMLY believe in it) that women are better in a lot more aspects than men. I don’t readily obey a man’s order (unless it’s from my Dad, haha!) especially if I know that it’s tinged with arbitrariness and stupidity. You know how guys are; they don’t care about logic, most of the time. "Do as I told you because (pauses for 5 hours, desperately looking for a reason)…I’m the guy in the house! (that’s the best he can muster!)" Duh, what difference do our respective genders make with regard to authority in the house?
Given my attitude towards men, I don’t think I would be able to meet their standards of how a wife should be–obsequious, servile, reverential and should always submit to his will no matter how capricious or whimsical. In short, I don’t think I would be a good wife-servant. Sorry.
I might be someone the new age calls a "career-oreinted woman". I want to do things that would make a difference in people’s lives. I want to accomplish things that would change how the world revolves. I want to change lives. I want to help people find their way out of poverty. I want to make sure that children get the education that they deserve. I want to enlighten young minds. I want to share with children whatever knowledge and ideas I’ve managed to accumulate throughout my existence. I want to help establish peace in war-torn countries. I want to help stop genocide around the world, especially in Darfur. I want do something about terrorism. I want to end the worsening polarization between Muslims and non-Muslims–I want them to be able to understand each other. I want the world to stop painting itself red with its own blood. I want the world to be a place where meaningful existence and living is viable.
Those are the things that I see myself doing. So don’t ever expect a card coming from me bearing the title of this post.
Boy, do I LOATHE these people!
1.) THE TRAITORS
These people have to be number one on my list. When you’re facing them, they smile at you and before you can turn your back totally, they stab you!
You give them your trust 100% without any reservations…and they use that trust later on to destroy you…they use it to hit you on your weakest spot!
DEATH TO THESE BETRAYING, TREACHEROUS TRAITORS!
2.) THE UNGRATEFULS
I know a lot of these people who belong to this kind. These are the people who will never learn to appreciate whatever it is that you’ve done for them–even if you give your life to them, they will still keep on finding ways to destroy you or put you in harm’s way. They will always find a way to hurt you even if you show them that you are willing to do anything for them.
These people will never learn to appreciate your sincerity…in fact, they even use that to their advantage.
I know this one girl whom I’ve always thought of as a "best friend". I gave her everything; even saved her life at one point to MY DETRIMENT. And what did I get? She spread rumors about me and placed me in a lot of trouble. I wish I just let her die when she encountered that near-death experience. Dark, bitter thought, I know. Next time, I’ll just watch her soul being extracted from her by the Supreme Being above…if ever it will happen again.
BOIL THE UNGRATEFULS TO DEATH!
3.) THE USER-FRIENDLY LEECHES
These are the people who’re only kind to you when they need you or need something from you. When they don’t need you, they treat you like a trash; conversely, when they find themselves in a situation in which you are the only savior they come to you like fallen angels, smiling all the time and they treat you like a god.
I know this one leech who would be such a monster whenever she doesn’t need me; and when she gets into a situation in which she needs my help, she’d treat me like a princess. She would do everything for me, things that she wouldn’t normally do during I-have-no-use-for-you days. When she acts that way, I tell myself "Oh, she needs something from you." And before I could even finish saying that to myself, she puts on her sweetest face and asks for whatever it is that she needs. But I’ve learned from the past and I don’t wanna deal with her anymore. SHE MAKES ME SICK!
CRUSH THE USER-FRIENDLY LEECHES TO DEATH!
4.) THE NARCISSUS PERSONIFIED
I just hate conceited people. They really get on my nerves. Ugh. So full of themselves! They make me wanna throw up in their faces!
I am usually friendly to everybody, I open up to anyone and give everyone a chance to be a friend. But once I smell that dizzying, nauseating fragrance of narcissus, I don’t even think twice about it and immediately dispose of such person. I hate those pretentious know-it-alls, arrogant, airy-heads who have nothing to show but their bragging. Well even if they did, why would they have to go around and flash what they have to everbody? What are they trying to prove? They prove nothing but that they are such pathetic losers!
DROWN THE NARCISSISTS IN THE NILE RIVER!
5.) THE GOSSIP-MONGERS
These are people who have nothing better to do with their lives…thus they find it rather entertaining or an accomplishment on their part to talk about other people–worse, they spawn lies about others.
ROAST THE GOSSIP-MONGERS’ TONGUES AND FEED THEM TO THE SHARKS!!!
6.) THE HOLY HYPOCRITES
These are the people who condemn you for doing a certain thing…and later on you’d find out that they’re doing exactly the same thing! Haha! It just shows the green, evil eyes they’ve been hiding for so long.
STRIP THE HOLY HYPOCRITES NAKED AND SHOOT THEM IN THEIR PRIVATE TERRITORIES!
If only I have the power Hitler once had, I would definitely shove these people into gas chambers and exterminate their kind! They don’t deserve a place in this world! Hmph!
NEWFOUND LOVE!
I finally found it–TRUE LOVE!
I can’t wait for the next day to start…
I can’t sleep at night. I toss and turn thinking, brooding endlessly…
I wake up beaming, knowing that it’s gonna be a great day…
I jump out of bed, my heart racing…
I run to the gate and open it–and there is my TRUE LOVE!
Yes, I found true love–in the form of CROSSWORD PUZZLE! Hahaha! Gotcha!
When I was a kid I used to watch my Dad with his glasses on, forehead creased, his facial expression telling me that he’s intensively concentrating. What is he doing?, I would ask myself. And then one time I took a look at what he was doing from the back and I saw him writing down words in those small boxes. He was so focused that he didn’t even notice me being there. When he completed it, he shot his hands in the air and exclaimed "WOOHOO!", which he would always do. The difference this time was that he inadvertently hit my nose in his excitement…blood came running down my nose and he still didn’t notice–he continued celebrating his yet another triumph. He wouldn’t have known my presence if my Mom hadn’t come in and shouted, "Holy God! She’s bleeding!" That’s when my Dad turned around and said, "Who’s there?" He looked irritated that he had to be distrubed from his little fete. "It’s just me, spying on you," I said wiping off the gushing blood with the sleeves of my favorite pink sweater.
My Dad’s love affair with the crossword puzzle would even at times result to marital conflict. I remember him and Mom fighting because he didn’t take out the garbage. "Can’t you see I’m in the middle of answering this puzzle?" he retorted when my Mom reminded him of his share of household responsibility.
It seems like I have inherited the same love from my father. It just started recently actually. I tried it when I was in college but it left me thinking that I was so stupid–I was only able to answer 2 blanks. I never attempted it again lest that it might confirm my stupidity.
But one night, I was studying for an Obligations and Contracts recitation…the subject is so intellectually demanding that my brain felt so dry after 2 hours. So I decided to divert my attention to something for a while. No, not the TV…otherwise, I’ll be glued to it forever, I thought. Something that would relax my brain for a few minutes without being totally diverted from this book. And there it lay, the entertainment section of the newspaper I just read a few hours before. Crossword puzzle. Nah, it’ll only tell me I’m stupid. I stared at it for about 5 minutes. Well, what the hell? I’ll give it a try! I started scribbling down word after word after word…until I finally completed it! I gasped and gaped, placing my hand over my mouth in great disbelief! God…is this true? Now I understood why my Dad would celebrate every time he completed one. But my revel ended when this thought came to my mind: Perhaps, you were just lucky. It just so happened that you know all the words of this particular edition.
So to test whether I was getting good at it, I tried the next day’s puzzle. And a reenactment of my first successful attempt happened…again and again and again!
I can’t wait for tomorrow’s paper to arrive at the doorstep. HAY, isn’t this what they call true love?
