Bitten

I envy my childhood. 

Whenever I look outside the pouring rain, reality struck me that I have indeed a happy childhood. Deprived with some luxury maybe but I was contented back then until I savor all the glory of my sweats, hardships and the fruits of my labor. Not easy but it somehow elevated my life from the usual. 

My daughter mirrors the what-I-always-wanted. She might not have everything but she has something I didn't have before. But my laughter rang in my ears. Memories were so vivid and dancing under the full moonlight. No qualms. No heartaches. No stress. No anxiety. 

Growing up is not easy especially if you think life is unfair but if you live within the center and what should be, you will live by, but I did not.  I grabbed on the peripherals. I escaped the reality and tried  creating surreal world. Rusty cliche it may seem but suck it up! Reality ferociously bites! 

The more I wanted to live with comfort, the more the responsibilities leveled up. I hope it's not too late. I have to slash on everything. Give up something. Step backward. Start from square one and be realistic.

I hate being so cynical.

I want everything to be just simple.

Just like my laughter when I fell from the roof of the Health Center. My cry and guffaw and the salty taste of tears when I flipped backwards riding a swing soared upward.  My loud heartbeat when I had to hide my big bruises from being knocked down by a pig when I run at the same time the swine run and blocked my step with the rope. The way I cried when I was washing my scraped knee after catching my foot with the jump rope. The adrenaline rush of hiding from my mother when I was told to nap and after she succumbed to slumber, I sneaked out of the house. After everything, I was scolded, yet, everything was back to normal. 

Unlike now, my daughter does half of my adventures but after the series of whines and rants, reality slapped me, I have a mountain high of responsibilities, liabilities and duties.

So, this is how life rolls, huh? If only I knew, I should have stayed somewhere.  I should have chosen to be a butterfly instead but even metamorphosis takes series of changes. Cycle. 

Indeed, children are miracles. Childhood is something to be cherished and put into scrapbook. Soon enough, my mini-me will be doing the same. It's up to me how to change the cycle of her life. Sacrifice is well written in every palm but I could make something that would somehow smoothen the path of my kid as she grows up. 

It pains me knowing I can not be there forever to provide her a worry-proof world but I have to start the change now that will encourage her emulate whatever her parents have achieved.

As I look at her, hearing her soft breathing, how I envy her carefree childhood but all I can do is to keep her away from vicious individuals who can pollute her pure heart. She might know a thing or two her friends do not but she is still as young, careless and dependent as a 9 year old could be. 

How different our childhood together but just the same, I envy my childhood my daughter mirrors half of it. She is my reality check, my what-ifs, my could-be and my wannabe. 

Life may presently suck but whenever my child looks at me with adoring eyes, hugs so tight my jugular could snap, wet kisses like having water squirting my face but it will never be the same 10 years from now. 

For now, I will lock these memories inside me for eternity as long as my mind permits along with my happy childhood. 

Oh, I just miss my parents all the more especially when I want to dance with my father again.. 

A Mother's Fight

If only I could wrap my kid with bubbles.
If only I could take all the pains.
If only I could swallow all the challenges.
If only I could gather all dangers.
If only I could stash away all the worries.
If only I could create a paradise for her.
If only I could build a castle with servants.
If only I could garner all the awards for her.
If only I could shape up her confidence.
If only I could put her on the pedestal.
If only I could guard her from gossips.
If only I could push out all sickness.
If only there's no hunger.
There's no emptiness.
There's no tear.
There's no bruise.
There's no heartache.
There's no longing.
If only I could scribble her love story.
To provide her the brightest future.
If only life is fictitious.
I would write my daughter's life,
And dictate a happy ending.
If I could just summon the world to be fair.
I wish, I really could..
But age is not counting down.
Death is inevitable.
But I can just show her how much I love her
She is the reason of my breathing.
The most worthy fight.
But I also have to let her explore,
For her to learn
To stumble and rise.
Despite my fear,
I have to let her go,
To make her stronger,
To build her compassion,
To be empathic.
So that someday,
My if only,
Will be her own..
On her own.
Stronger.
Braver.
Bolder.
I also need to fathom
If I am doing it right.
I wish I will still be here someday,
To see my daughter,
Weave her own reality.
If only..

PEARLS

(Delayed posting--this was supposed to be posted on the below-mentioned date)


This is a story I always have in my heart.

Apart from my family who grabbed half a portion of my heart, these people have swept my feet with their sincerity and love.

I always have self-esteem issue.

I grew up thinking I was inferior and nobody liked me. I marginalized myself oftentimes and when I went to college, I was cloaked with uncertainties. I surrounded my heart with barrier no one could penetrate not until I was introduced to a world of diversified personalities and pure hearts.

We were all sixteen years old, one was younger by short breath and some few steps advanced yet we created our bubbles together. At first, I only allowed myself to be at the margin, an awkward stage when I was battling with confusion with the friendship offered. Friendship is no stranger to me, I have a few back in high school but this was the moment I could go on naked and show up my scars. I was never judged, I was never shown superiority although the inferiority issues came from me not from these people.

I never believed that a lot of people would learn to appreciate me. I thought only my family would successfully nestled in my heart (they had no choice anyway), but lo and behold, these individuals offered me a variation of affection.

I fought with my own demons, above all the culprit was my pea-sized self-esteem.

I waltzed with differing emotions and tried to welcome strangers to a place where there was no turning back.

I laughed. I got drank. I made stupid mistakes. I was heartbroken. The first time, I realized that growing up was not that bad.

19 diversified thoughts. 19 hearts. 19 souls. HB was born.

Regardless what others would call it. Whatever criticisms would be spilled out, my nerves will always have stings and will ooze out love for these people.

Today is a gloomy and wet Saturday, July 21,2012. 15 years ago, HB was conceptualized. No contracts, no rationale, no objective, no ulterior motives. Only, we had planted a single seed that sprouted and grew up into a tree that shaded the whole of the Earth. The love is bigger than anything else.

I am the strangest outcome of that simple concept. I struggled a lot. I forgot myself. I drifted away, yet,I am still here. Circuited back to the core of friendship.

I acquisce, I am the most emotional and vocal about these feelings because I owe this group a lot. I am in debt of these people how I have graced my own world. Cried with me. Encouraged me. Knocked me out some wits when I dumbly decided on things. Applauded my success.

Thank you is not enough but for now, that's the only word I can wrestle out of my emotionally stricken day. Thanks a lot HB! And cheers to a wonderful 15 years of friendship.

HELICOPTERS & POLICE

Parents will always be parents, no matter what.

When I was growing up, I was a victim of politics in school. My mother told me that during my preschool, I was supposed to land on 5th place of honors students. My mother didn't wear make up and fancy clothes, not even friends with my teachers. She wore dress she was comfortable with. She didn't care about the fashion sense of other mothers who hovered in school. Simply, because all she cared was my performance in my class or was the tuition fee paid equated my knowledge acquired in school?

I ended up on the 8th spot during the graduation ceremony of my preschool. My mother was frantic but kept mum about it. Futile emotions.

On my first grade, I represented my class for Math Quiz bee and other bees but my parents didn't back me up. Lesson learned from my preschool, they did not want to be tagged as parents who patrol my school. In other words, they sent me to school to learn, to excel and that's it. I brought home the bacon and my father would usually brag about it to his friends and family. But other than that, nothing more.

Nowadays, I get pissed with some parents bragging about their kids' achievements, maliciously. Sometimes, some of them intentionally boast about their children and overshadowing your own. Time Magazine had published one article last year about Helicopter Parents. They are the kind who hover their children and eclipsing yours, too. They are push-overs, goal and output oriented and who feel so antsy with their children's school performances.

I thought this happens only here in the Philippines, with the kind of experience I am dealing with, with the two schools of my daughter. I even thought, it must be the Filipino culture of 'pee-squirting contest' but hey! This is a global epidemic.

A friend of mine in Canada presently experiences the same. And some others who I must say have the same personality as mine, who happened to be, I-know-my-kids-capability-let's- wait-after-college, but then again while at the plane of this current journey, it is too nerve whacking and angst-sucking attitude especially from strangers who open their mouth just to brag about their children and yours is just a mediocre.

I may happen to have a child in her elementary years but this occurrence enveloped most the populace. Aside from Helicopter parents, there is what you call, Police Parents. They guard the achievements of their children, push them to excel while sniping on other parents' moves. You should not surpass their children's performances or else, they will go gaga over it and find another fault to talk about you. They are insatiable. Green eyed monsters and always thirsty of recognition.

Two things why HP and PP exist. One, they have been hovered and policed while growing up, and they are trying to pass on the scythe. Or, two, they are losers who got mixed up with great genes, and find their children the best rebound materials to tell the world: I won! You suck!

These kind of people primarily exist on host. They are like parasites, feeding from unsuspecting hosts. While you smile and look at them straight in the eyes, you are one friend they need, but once you turn your back, you are the best appetizer to their gossip-hungry monsters.

There are different parenting styles and there are different kinds of people. Even identical twins are never the same, after all. Why not try to bring up a child from your home the best way you can, the way you wished your parents have brought you, that way this world will be a better place to live in. You don't want me hovering and policing you and your child, do you?

Parents will always be parents but we can always be better parents than ours, not compare to other parents of our own generation. Parenting style evolves from previous ones just like technology. And one thing, let's mind our own business, suppress insecurities and stop pointing at others' parenting mistakes, it only shows off the color of your bones and own insecurities.

Let the children enjoy their youths. We may not be fully aware, but who your children in school, how they deal with their teachers and classmates are the reflection of how you deal with them at home. Do you want another you? Or you want to give your child his own identity?

The choice is all yours.

TROLLEDEMANILLE

I am not sure if the spelling above is right. I have turned to trash the persistent garbage who had been bugging my blog.

This is my private domain so whatever I write here are my own thoughts, my words and my own trash, not yours, faceless nuisance!

When you want to say something just to insult me, approach me in person and do not spit here. I have been looking for you all over the net and you are unidentified, meaning spam! No! Spam is expensive, you are not even a meat loaf but a rubbish!

I have not moderated posting of comments on this blog before, thinking, people will be well-mannered enough to use appropriate language.

What's with you and the 25 pesos worth of publication in Quiapo? For sure you are not one of them. They are artists, not faceless vermin gnawing languidly on filth.

I am not supposed to mind you but using the same foul language you have there and calling me nasty words, I can consent no more.

I am using this medium to pour out my emotions and you happen to came across this and you got fascinated, now it dawns on you, you can not write even just a full 5-sentence paragraph and you are calling me names? YOU ARE PATHETIC HIDING YOUR SCARRED FACE WITH AN ALIAS!

This person happens to be calling me names and swearing in Tagalog. What's with you? You are crossing boundaries you are not supposed to.

I don't have talent in writing? Yes, you are right probably but this is not for you to decide should I stop or not. I respect, you are practicing your democratic right but be very discreet not to flaunt your identity in public because I can actually test democracy on you too!

Quiapo artists selling their works at 25 pesos are better than my writing, yeah I believe so! But this is no profit generating publication, mind you. THIS IS MY PERSONAL BLOG WHICH HAPPENS TO VACUUMED THE GREEN MONSTER OUT OF YOU!

I don't hang around Starbucks, if you ogle over those people who have pennies to spare on expensive cup of coffee, wait until someone leaves a half emptied cup and devour on the remaining sips. That way you'll stop dreaming how it tastes like.

Try Seattle's Best, UCC and Coffee Bean, some writers burn cash there and be careful they have auto-shredder, they might pick on you as useless.

This is what it uses, "It" because it refers to neuter, faceless, unidentified object, not a person, not even animal because I own two dogs who happen to be humane than this monster. http://trolledemanille.livejournal.com/ --- Try to search. 

Mark as bug, spam is exorbitant to refer to this coward.

Apology for the outburst, readers.

Well again, this is my blog. I do post responsibly until I came across this dung that contaminated my whole demeanor. 

Next time, I'll be executing more refined behavior but I'll be carrying a rustic double bladed dagger with me.

POSSIBILITY

I have been in a multifaceted emotions these past few days. I am trying to look back and see where I am already at. I have achieved a lot but I know it's not enough.


I have a lot of aspirations and one of those is to be happy. I am not saying, I am not but the happiness that would spring from the inside. Where no one and nothing would brag you to wake up every morning and a smile should linger on your face for no reason at all.


Study shows that, early 30ish is the moment where you really look at yourself as someone elevating from where you were 2-3 years prior. Where are you? What have you achieved so far? Have you stepped up the ladder of success or you have been on a plateau for quite some time now?


I have always asked my purpose. I know what I need to be done and what I have to do. I need to reinvent myself in order to avoid being a moth to the flame. 


The opportunities are widely spread, you might already have stumbled upon it once and you have not recognize it's already for you. I have disregarded all the glory of being where I should be. I enjoyed the comfort of my present zone and I just thought of it as a contentment. But am I? 


Contentment is all in the mind, you might say. I have been into that logic for a while and fought for my previous choices. Of course, once you put your decision into something and it appeared you got the wrong one, you tend to shield yourself from any regrets and blames. But try to analyze deeper, are you really happy?


Happiness should not be a by product of success but it should be a precursor to the latter. If you are wearing happiness on your sleeves then most likely, your goal for the day will undoubtedly blend in to your achievements.


It is tiring to wake up one day and you feel you need to rise because you have obligations.  Why not try to wake up because you are tired of lying down and your system kicks you to rise and paint the town red.


The question of contentment lies whether are you happy or are you already burn out?


Before the flames die down, before the sun sets, before the light goes out, I have to repair the damages and patch the holes the boredom has triggered.


Life is a multifaceted emotions, you just have to choose your hue. 


I am not keeping my fingers crossed, I have the Sovereign Force to pick one for me.


I am ready to glide on an arch of a rainbow, once I selected the wrong one, I have an array of options on my foot. 


Happiness is a state of mind, yet you really have to make the right choices. 


When it seems a dead end, right or left might not exist but there will always be a U-turn to correct whatever erroneous decisions you have executed.


I am.




*image from funnbee4.blogspot.com

I thought so..

2011 was not a good year. I was on the other side of the see-saw but I was at the higher end. You think, I am fortunate? Yes, I also thought so. But gravity pulls object to the ground. As much as I want to defy the force, I can't. You can just turn your back from a magnet but never from the power of the Earth's inner core.

I fell. Hard! Ouch!

Then I thought, I would just rise and walk away but no! I stumbled once more, then another then another.

My knees were scraped. Painful but I never cried out. What for? I'm brave! No one should know I was bleeding. Put a make up on, masscara to curl lashes, smiled and picture perfect!

That's the best I've got! Pretensions!

I took all the blow. I was like a hermit crab, oftentimes, I could hide. I could crawl and hide.

Forces wrecked my hiding place.

I was left naked, vulnerable and bruised.

I run to climb a sturdy tree to realize it was just a shadow of a burning bush.

My pretense collapsed.

I am alone.

In this dark alley, I have no one.

The glimpse of 2012 sent me hope.

I clawed my way up.

I settled at the highest peak.

I became my own master.

I am strong, you lean on me.

I am tall, climb up on me.

I am brave..

No I am not!

2012 is already halfway, is there still hope?

I nod.