It’s interesting to know that Life has its way of teasing our decisions. Reminders are just around us when we least need them. But it’s all right. It’s a way of reminding us of the old life or way that we just left. And it either builds  or it pulls us back.

Again, it’s a matter of choice.

katabi ko ngayon ang aming Bunso. at kami'y nagtatawanan dahil sa mga walang kuwentang bagay sa internet, i.e. friendster ng mga kaklase niya, pictures ng kung anuano, atbp.

WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

=') nakakaiyak hehehe.

my other younger brother just bought his pair o' Piranhas. (Red Belly) everyone's so excited over them hehe.

that's for now. 2 days left for 2005!

hahaha corny. i feel like i'm seeing light. though it's not of the morning. (means i'm still an owl..) but anyway, bye gloom.

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Spaces in the Sentence

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I wrote this article on Aug6 05. Kinda reminds me, I've been here really often. haha!

Christmas eve in a few hours. (It's 2:37 am here) I can feel the Spirit. Thank You , Jesus. =)

Merry Christmas to all!

I still hold on to my ideal – there is hope for the Philippines. But I’m starting to negotiate, if it seems too far for the next ten years, then I better pack my stuff with them. *sigh* It hurts when you let go of your ideals. Hah conditional love!

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It's a barrage, this four-posts-in-a-night thing. I guess I'm trying to make up hehe!

To those who know me personally, we have our secrets here. Keep them, please. Much appreciated. =)

Mothers are everywhere, just as love is.

          There’s the daughter who’s left with a younger brother – and a father – to take care of because her mother is working abroad. She walks through the dark streets leading to their home, her bag gripped in his hand with worries and love. On the other she carries a bag of goods for home’s dinner; a red umbrella accompanying her every step. At home she finds cheers and alcohol and fathers’ friends, her brother eagerly taking from her the night’s ration. A battle with contempt ensues as she hurries to her room, fiercely fighting a tear or two. But she reminds the world, love is stronger.

          There’s the young girl who carries her youngest sister in her arms as she and her younger brothers walk along the STCJP-Vega sidewalk, selling sampaguita. She can feel the numbness in her arm, but is pacified by the sight of peaceful slumber her baby sister experiences. She pursues every passerby, hoping for the sound of coins replacing the scent of the flowers in her hand. She carries only a necklace of flowers at a time so it would seem as her last and people would buy it.

          There’s the mother who’s left with four monstrous boys to raise because her husband died of liver cancer. A lot of other guys tried to court her, but she refused. She worked at day, came home every night, cleaned the house and slept on time with no one to vent her problems and struggles on. The eldest son brought more problems and the second and the third were too young to speak. The youngest was two. After ten years now, her sons are her bodyguards. The eldest is waiting for Bayer’s call. The second is about to graduate college. The third just entered UP, and the youngest got into National High’s first pilot section. 

          Then there’s the teacher, who scolds at her students for taking classes during summer instead of going to Guimaras, or Boracay; or instead of staying at Lolo’s farm eating guavas. She’s a mother who boasts of her children’s achievements to inspire her students. She’s also a wife who always remembers and mentions her husband and their little thrills at home, and stops whenever the story turns to something that is not for young children to hear. She comments on how indifferent the class seems, but still patiently continues with relentless fervor in lecturing and making the students understand. She talks about notes and journals, names and jokes and so much more than a typical classroom would contain. She sings to her students and makes them cry at the end of the term. She’s a teacher who not just teaches but reaches the hearts of the students, and stays there. Talk about work with love.

          Mothers are everywhere. Love is everywhere.

 

Note:
        As I was reflecting and assessing through my summer experience, I felt the presence of God envelope me once again with the love and inspiration that mothers bring. Thus, the drive for this article. Two months in the making, written in two hours :)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

                Mel, you always inspire me with your love for your family, friends and the things you do. Truly, God’s Love emanates from you.

                Isabel *, your siblings depend so much on your love, keep going, the future is bright for you.

                My dearest Mama, I will always love you. You show me how real God’s touch can be.

                To Maam Blauta, thank you very much for the wonderful summer class. I never imagined absorbing so much knowledge at such a short time. Also, thank you for concluding my article :) Love truly conquers all. Omnia vincit amor.

*not sure if i remember correctly :)

I remember how it was when I dreamt of becoming a grown up at once. It is still clear to me how I always chose to act maturely, or at least the way I viewed being mature. I hated when people leave me out because I’m still young, that I wouldn’t understand. Inside me, I welled up, vowing that someday I’ll prove to be a man myself.

I took responsibility as a chance of showing that I am older than the rest: in mind and body; that I can decide more maturely than the rest. I acted, thought and did things as if I’m ready for anything. Like entering into relationships at an early age, with the slightest grasp of what it’s really like. I went away for high school at 12, seeking a different sense of independence. I looked at life simply – be BRAVE, take in everything that comes your way, pick which stays and let go of the rest.

Now it seems that I’m nearing something that I thought all along I knew: LIFE. And it’s no longer an act, or play. It’s REAL.

And all of a sudden, I’m afraid to grow up. I’m scared to mature. I’ve seen how infinite the possibilities are that await me. This time, every decision counts.

They say that one should never look back at life with regrets, that regret is a useless word. Should I find one now, am I to be blamed?

I freeze, but time won’t. As I look at this sheet of paper which carried so much more than ink and crayon, I hold Hope on the one hand and Faith on the other. And just like every hopeful fresh starts, I’ll make my most out of what else is coming, “For I shall never pass this way again...”

Haaah. thinking of it now, i wish i could have put some down on writing. at least to remind me of how i get at times. :j

again, the wonders of fresh starts.. i'll try.. i'll try.. 0:)