The crave is back. Branded with a new spank and it drives me wild.
Perhaps… the trouble with being strong is, people assume your heart can never break. Well, it is heartbreaking to break the news, but it can. It does. And when it does, no one usually knows what to do. So your heart breaks, you break down, and that breaks others’ hearts to see. The funny thing is: no one would do anything. And the sad news is: no one can. Perhaps that is why no one does.
.
Perhaps no one can break your heart unless you let them. And perhaps no one can mend your broken heart, then, until you let them. Perhaps you are not strong anymore. Perhaps strong is not what you have to be. Perhaps you just have to jump on a different streetcar named courage… on which no one looks back. And perhaps you too should try to do so, letting no one break your heart and letting no one mend it.
.
.
Or perhaps the only letting left to do is… go.
.
.
Posted in Hurt, Write On | Tagged Break, Heart | 2 Comments »
We were small people lucky enough to be in one of the most amazing places in the world. St. Petersburg sure changed my attitude and perspectives towards history – the learning of it, as well as the understanding of it. I now know why Russians don’t have much to smile about. I know I do.
Posted in Write On | 7 Comments »
I have definitely taken more pictures this trip around than I have ever done many many trips before. But now looking at them all, I keep going back to the very first pictures I took during the last hour train ride approaching St. Petersburg. This is my favorite. And this is specially for my Anastasia out there.
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Especially for my Nina Bobo who requested to see this 60 year-old-re-upholstered-lime-green-in-its-former-life chair… up-close and personal. This special chair has been my nursing chair, my crying chair and now my blabbing blogging chair tucked in a corner between my living and dining areas. Thank you Nina, for the request. Thank you Mom, for the chair.
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Answers?
Oh yes, she does have answers for every question you ask. Just ask, she’d say. She is equipped. She is loaded. All you have to do is shoot! Yeah, you shoot. She doesn’t do the shooting. Because when she does, she would expect you to be loaded with answers. And her definition of answers is those sentences that don’t end with another question mark. Yes, she is very particular that way. So if you answer her question with another question, she takes it that you are not willing to answer. She might as well just look at herself in the mirror and ask the question to herself. Or better yet, just talk to herself. Or the best yet… not to ask or talk in the first place. You pick, then, if you’re going to answer her question with another.
Angry? No, she is not angry. She is simply telling you what you don’t seem to know about her. Or perhaps she is correcting what you seem to have misperceived about the person you claim to know so well for so long. She can see that being assertive always sounds ‘angry’ to you. She’s changed, you reckoned? Of course she has. Who hasn’t? Look who’s talking now. One year has done a lot to her. Shall she say more about ten years? You remember her one-size-fits-all statement of “It’s one that eventually makes a million.” Don’t you? If you can’t remember that, I don’t think you can remember much of what she has said. And she doesn’t say hacks-a-candy of a lot.
Yes, she has pretty much been tucking herself at her own corner lately – which she hasn’t done since late 2002 or somewhere there. Seven years, four countries, six houses and another kid later, she thought it would be good to re-upholster Mom’s 60 year old chair for her corner and let Mom mum her there. And for the next twelve days, Mom will be there for her.
Posted in Write On | Tagged Answer | 3 Comments »
You broke my faith in all these years.
So broken the faith and I,
that I wish I never believed.
In you.
For now, I’ll just let it break.
No mending.
No minding.
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Things happen for a reason, they say.
Yeah, yeah. Whatever! (Kids, if you’re reading, I know I’ve said it a gazillion times that the word whatever – if not put in a sentence – is not a good word.) But tonight I finally believed that things do happen for a reason. However it happens without you knowing why. Like… I never understood why the fluorescent lamp cover in my bathroom that was hanging, almost falling off its bracket, had not bothered me. I usually would be the first one to put things back where they belong – be it a hand towel not folded right to its four corners, or a blade on the window blinds not at the right angle, or even my daughter’s hair-parting not on its straight ‘path’. Urrggh! I am so easily bothered beyond reasons at times.
But tonight, as I was doing my bedtime bathroom routine, a fly came zooming from only God knew where, right onto my shower door. I grabbed a wet hand towel to flick at the godforsaken fly as if it had comitted an unforgiveable sin. That a la Zoro flicking act sent it flying frantically and aimlessly at my mercy to finally land on the fluorescent lamp. And like it knew the reason for why I left the cover untouched and hanging for the last few days, the fly went right between the cover itself and the lamp. I wasted no time and put the lamp cover back, clicking it into its place – trapping the fly in between.
Things happen for a reason, they say.
I say, tonight… a fly had gone toward the light.
Postlude:
You say, “Have mercy on her soul.”
Posted in Write On | Tagged Reason | 2 Comments »
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