Life here is slow, relatively. Here in my hometown, i simply let my circadian current take me, and i still manage to feel productive at the end of the day.
Here, days are longer, or so they seem. Yesterday morning I sang my heart out in a karaoke indulgence, pigged out over lechon manok and paksiw at noon time, slept the whole afternoon through, ate out in Pantalan (pier) with the whole family, and finally, bought Sansrival-flavored ice cream as a treat.
Today was rather stuffed too – a visit to the cemetery, eat out with family, music tripping and video shoot with siblings (more on this later), sleep, sleep, sleep, yummy dinner, Internet, and to come, a small-time Halloween-cake party with siblings, and who knows what else. The night is still young, as young as us.
just squeezing in a little early-morning post. will be in bath in 5 minutes. early because I’ll have to be in Cebu Normal University where I’ll be enrolling for Master of Arts in Literature (it’s actually my first choice). Glad that the entrance exam went out well – some IQ, diagnostics, and a critical essay.
Just heard a saddening news at work yesterday. Come November 5, we are required to report to work wearing corporate outfit (particularly business formal). Bye bye dresses. Still to find out what to do with 2k clothing allowance.
And oh, just got my legendary long hair cut last night, not too short though. will blog more tonight. Arlo loves it! toodles!
Yet, even now, every time (often) that I find I don’t understand
something, then, instinctively, I’m filled with the hope that perhaps this will
be my moment again, perhaps once again I shall understand nothing, I shall
grasp that other knowledge, found and lost in an instant. – Italo Calvino (“The Flash”)
I know I’m quite a late worm for a spectacular feat that’s been out in BBC air two years ago, but, yes, it took me long to find entertainment extraordinaire amidst the heaps of substandard films out in the market (although some of the views i had were really worth the time too). What makes it a special masterpiece? Planet Earth, the documentary, is telling me a lot about nature’s paradoxical nature of which I am a curious quester. With cutting-edge camera technology, unparalleled filming skills, and genius scientific input, I am taken aback, blown away, engrossed, transfixed, and drawn to life’s breathtaking conditions even more – I am earth’s inhabitant, and so are they.
Planet Earth is a BBC – Discovery Channel team-up, a multi-million (so it seems) production that has provided the viewing public the first ever high-definition nature documentary. But to call it a brilliant nature documentary would not suffice. And what is it then? A looking glass of what could take place in this blue planet for four years. With the footages it mirrors on screen, you’d be surprised its not Hollywood where hunter-to-prey chases are smartly simulated and audio-visual digital effects get in the way more often than not. Here, it’s all real.
The production team has very well taken advantage of modern filming techniques — time-lapse and satellite imaging to name a few. Add to this the perfectly fitted musical scoring so in sync with the footages and the storyline. The script, too, is rich in both artistic and scientific magnificence. It manages to weave everything into one cohesive delivery.
Digesting it feels like a flash, an induced eureka where everything, the mysteriously cloaked phenomena of the times, evolution, and so on and so forth, seem to fall into place.
My guy and I are still on the eighth episode of the series and we’re still to watch “Shallow Seas,” “Seasonal Forests,” and finally, “Ocean Deep.” And, yep, a geeky couple we may seem, but there’s something so big about Planet Earth that’s not geeky at all.
I’ve been waiting for this – a time to myself, and with a friend of course – slurping cold espresso in a nearby coffee shop. I miss being on the Internet, leisure chatting and leisure surfing, doing non work-related matters. Being free for a day or two is big deal, at least for me.
Growing up, yes, feels strange, feels crazy, feels liberating though. I can’t believe how things have taken their turn since the last time I poured my heart out in a crying frenzy. There, there, was the listener flashing his steed, a listening armor, perhaps an empty box slowly and gradually taking up weight with my barrage of qualms on life, brought about by a severe case of over-thinking, over-feeling, over-reacting – i was a bag of emotions then.
Today, I am better, or so I say. And I find that he thinks so too. He couldn’t be prouder. I have managed to stay focused and not stir away as I did before. I have ran out of reasons to come out depressive at the same degree that I’ve ran out of reasons to call in sick. I am never absent from work, nor late, nor sleepy, even when this isn’t something that I’ve long wanted to do, but a mere way out to financial dependence from pa or ma. This is, though, something that might, given that I develop financing wisdom in the long run, a way to my light. No, I haven’t forgotten my dreams to take up MAs.
Aside from having freed myself from the murky, good-for-nothing ex, I have freed myself from disillusionment, all with their cunning contours and affective ill-thinking, almost bringing me down to earth-shattering landings with flights I’ve always viewed as the ultimate.
Although I haven’t claimed perfect freedom yet, I am fine, alive, and kicking for the days to come. I have surpassed a difficult stage in my life. I would have fallen there, and it would have delivered me to my loss.
having ingested quite enough alcohol and being physiologically tortured, i battle with sleep just so i could put some of my sticky thoughts down. It would be fun to hear my self out by sunrise.
I am actually somewhere between awake and asleep, but i’m pretty sure this ain’t one of those effin’ dreams again – my subconscious playing tricks on me, being harsh to me, mocking me with crazy scenarios that might be, given it’s magical realism nature, possible to occur in dear life. (somebody pinch me so i’d know) You see, my subconscious had had a screw turned – it’s bringing dead people back to life, posing discrepancies after discrepancies, and waking me up gawking, whimpering and cursing the morning and certain people too.
I am a-OK in real life though. It has dawned upon me that hell yeah, why should i give a damn trying too hard to love everything that i do. A mountaineer workmate shared to me what she has picked up from a certain someone in Readers Digest. She was talkin somethin bout not having to love your job, but loving your reason for doing it. In my case, i have and angst-driven plans to bask in the essence of living. I will be human someday, as human as a free bird (errk, discrepancy) In other words i shall beat life’s bitchy aspects when the right time comes, and i have someone behind my back to yell out “booyah” when i get there, someone as flammable as I am, at least today.
I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life’s a bitch. You’ve got to go out and kick ass.
Pardon my chunky bits tonight. They are but islands of thoughts, memories of dreams (all kinds: in colors, in black-and-whites, perfection, shame, guilt, betrayal), and industrial drawbacks brought about by hours and hours of forced content writing to help me finance my plans to pursue my dream, education, for which i hunger, all clumped into one blog entry, the only one that time and physical condition permits in the time being. And as i try to arrive with cohesion in this insignificant September night, one which is designed to fleet away just as with any ordinary unless i give it a name, i, a suppressed traveler in her night wear, imagines Arcadia, a dream land, where arts and insights grow on trees (in reference to Ben Okri’s In Arcadia novel).
So better not define it, and better leave the feeling alone for awhile – allow it do be in a secretive misfit, leaving elegance to the thinker, or in this case, the feeler that crawls in and out like an earth worm – hungry for the earth but loving the sun.
Or shouldn’t I just get it straight. I think , and yes i strongly think, that i am in love. And the fire just waiting for fuel starts to burn hard and picks up speed as the new month takes off. Another universal phenomena that will keep me living for days, weeks, months, years even.
When I say may fingers are itchy, it figuratively means this:
1. I am trying to focus on certain things. (emphasis on trying) These are bread-and-butter concerns that do not get attended to promptly. Reason? I am sidetracked by my fluidity. So, here I am, singing to Maria Mena, engaging in a banter with someone special, lurking into other people’s blogs, video streaming, reading poetry, and the list could only go on. I am only human after all, a distracted variety of the humankind.
2. I feel like strangling someone (and my super-ego tells me it’s not the right thing to do). And reader, please don’t misconstrue this as bitterness. I’m simply devastated and abhorring in a heartbeat any brute of the disrespectful kind. To quote Maria Mena, “I will no longer be disciplined by the frustrations of an insecure man.” Nuf said.
3. I want to do something, now, now, now. This sensation is not so new though, apparently normal when I’ve had at least two cups of coffee. It’s the impulsive kind of wanting and having to be there in an instant. And usually, it starts off with a trigger other than caffeine. In my case today, it’s the documentary Zeitgeist that’s feeding to the flame. I suddenly want to be able to do something about the ailing economy, the misinformed public, and war. But I am an issue myself, and having to deal with “that man on the mirror” (to quote Micheal Jackson) is an essential. AS Ani Difranco would put it, “I’m fire just waiting for fuel.”
4. I have a lot going on in the head, certain thoughts worthy of my dramatic spiels. I’m in need of literature, ice cream, and one tight hug.
And since I will have to pop those thought bubbles for the mean time, I say to my itchy fingers, “Please, be easy on me. We’re getting there.”
