I’ve been talking to you and myself (basically) onscreen for a year and a couple of days now.  This is the 50th e-journal entry, thus the golden post. Looking back, it wasn’t bad after all… I am halfway “there“.  A set or two more of golden posts and I’ll be where I’d set myself on getting… That could be two years maximum. Uh-oh!  Now am pressuring myself!  Oh heck!  Whatever.  Am taking my time… doing a slow dance.      The awesome Reids help me get through the blogosphere.  I wonder what I could have done without them.  Their patience with the computer-dummy-cyber-idiot me, made me this far… and going further…  with other ‘forces’. 

    There’s moo moo, whose website’s always open for me to tinker-and-tamper with. :)  FGFV’s another great force who had blown the magic realism’s door open for me to explore.  These two had ventured out of creative writing for awhile, exploring another world in blogosphere.

    These people of beautiful minds and beautiful souls are so real to me, despite never seeing them in person… We see eye to eye… through our hearts.  We connect.  These wonderful, awesome beings are whom I can label true friends…

    You meet people in the internet — real and unreal, some hiding behind different identities.  There are bees and butterflies…  Bees that hover above, fleeting from one flower to the other, sucking out the sweetness before  flying off to the next one.  There are butterflies, fluttering its lovely wings, fanning you out with a slight breeze… before you know it, it had vanished.  Those are characters that pass briefly in our lives… for a reason.  It might be for their own good or yours.  If you were stung, it’s not that bad after all, because you know you’ve done your role in somebody’s life… you’re real and honest.  And you still have you.  As a real bee (the critter:) pollinates a flower, a human ‘bee’ polishes another soul… disregard the sting, honey.  Nature isn’t cruel.  It’s just doing it’s job, you can’t help it. 

    It’s just a matter of PMA — Positive Mental Attitude, pal!  Oh, you’ll be drained of PMA but your true friends are there to replenish it.  They may be unseen but they make their presence known…  They nudge you from time to time.

   When you’re tapping away in your computer in the wee hours of the night, you know you’re not alone… A brief message on ym –”hey, you still alive?”; a silly custom message that pops up from time to time –”anggapo la rad dya, wadya larad baguio”; a short  chat; or the simple smiley lit up beside your pal’s ym… Oh, they’re enough encouragement.  You’re working side by side with your real e-pals.  ;)  That is real friendship!

   I love you, thank you, sweet Ms loveLydia and Mr guapo. Bow ako sa ‘yo, mamu.  The best ka talaga, moo moo ! (Yung red horse natin, mga bru, ha? ;)

    Oh boy, I’m so blessed!  I feel…  gooold!  Ta da da , da da!

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     “You aren’t being paid for that?!”,  exclaimed someone in disbelief when I said I don’t get money from writing.  She wrinkled her nose in disdain  This is the sort of person I wouldn’t think twice on staying away from.  A set of shallow perspective is already deeply embedded in that little brain.  It’s pointless to bang your head on a brick wall.  You just as well turn away –saves your energy… and sanity!

Some people find it hard to believe that you do something without expecting anything in return…  You do “it” simply because you want to do it, you like the moment of doing it, you absolutely love doing it, you know you’re fulfilling your life’s purpose by doing it, or… “it” gives you life by merely doing “it”.  Simply put — you find joy in doing it… so you do what you do and give whatever you can possibly give.  I’m not saving my best dance for last… I do my best dance, I dance my way through life. It doesn’t matter if I’m not in-synch with everybody’s music.  Heck!  I dance to the beat of my own drummer.  I might fall flat on my ass but I’d dust myself off, shake off the grit, and get on my best dancing feet again!  ;)  Whenever the music moves me, I won’t sit it out.  I’d dance!

I do rebel against a whole lot of things (I wouldn’t have anything to write about if I don’t, do I?)   Writing just anchors me.  When I see my thoughts on paper/onscreen, things would start to make sense (I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense to you.  I write for myself ;)  heh! heh!  My sense of balance is restored, I get re-connected to my core, I reach out… and connect to you.  And get swatted like a fly, too, when I get harsh criticism on what I write (remember my worst critic?).  The sting subsides, it doesn’t kill me.  It smoothens my rough edges, not sharpen it.

There’s always a risk in creation.  You put your heart on the line, make yourself an easy target.  The heck with that!  I am taking that leap of faith… I trust… My eyes aren’t shut, I feel that my heart’s where it should be (chestpains kick in;), my mind must be muddled but I’m certain everything makes sense (to me, at least!)   So this is “it”, baby!    

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I’m floating on air.  I feel light… headed!  The ‘high’ feeling comes not from being on high spirits but from countless days and nights of sleeplessness.  I’m not my usual shutter-happy self that i missed to capture nature’s beauty today.  Too bad I wasn’t up to it.  It gave my poor, over-used camera a rest though.  The morning walk gave me a cool breeze and cleared the cobwebs in my head.      Some people just could turn heads when they passed by… am one of those people this morning ;)  You see, I noticed a lovely creature gawking at me.  And the darn earthling’s adorable I petted him and he liked me instantly!  I’m a head-turner alright… but Lucky is somebody’s canine. I couldn’t have taken the poor, cuddly dog home with me :D   

    I neglected my page for weeks.  I never even tried putting pen to paper for the newsmag.  My last article was harshly criticized by my worst critic –not me, at least (I’m past that stage:)  The dear ancient lawyer thought my piece was lopsided and so unfair to someone close to both of us.  I got an eyesore reading her letter. She could’ve chewed my ears off if she’d been talking to me.  After that, I got busy… procrastinating.  I took temporary refuge on another website, exploring.  The nastiness of a stranger sent me back to my homesite (Friendster’s friendlier;) so it got me to write “Blue Funk”.   The earthling turned out to be as adorable as Lucky is :D

    There are certain things I just can’t easily write about until I had given myself  enough space and emotional distance.  Things too sore and too raw mend, in time.  As MLV said, “There’s a time for everything”.  Now is just not the right time to write about my mom (on a much brighter light) when we are still in the process of patching up, mending our relationship.  I’m taking things one day at a time. 

    There are times when the world seems to me to stop turning, I’d wonder if I could still reach her.  But that’s just one of the down times… Time moves on, and so do I.  It’s not ingratitude nor disrespect that I put things off.  It’s just my way…  and I only hope my critic respect that.  My own mother understands that… We need no words to convey our feelings — mom and I feel the ache and hear each other’s hearts.  And only the two of us would know what is…  The love’s never lost…

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You do things you don’t normally do when you know you’re heading downhill.  You get out of the box you’re comfortably and painfully boxed in — albeit the fear.  Unknowingly, you face greater pain… if you aren’t lucky.  ‘Twas one of those darn bad days.  You’re way down in the dumps.  In trying to get away from the hurt and gloom, you end up in a darker alley of disappointments and frustrations.  Wounded and misunderstood, you run like the devil –away from the offending source.  Your once-shaken world’s further shattered.  You cave in. 

Let the shots of pain sink in.  Let it course through your veins.  Let it flow… out of your system… until it’s drained… until you’re drained.

Now, go back to your own old box, with all the unhappy and thorny trimmings.  This time you’ll know how to handle the darn ugly feelings… inside the box.  You’ve done it many times before, had you not?  You were able to handle that nasty one outside the box, had you not?  You sure can do it again… and again.

Okay, move your bum and get on with your life.  Write the blue funk away.  Forget that darn spiky, worthless adventure.  Just one bad awfully nasty wind that passed.  Snap out of it!

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The 8th day of the 1st month of 2008 –the year of the Rat in the lunar calendar. My year. Hmmm… I can smell the cheese out there. But this one’s been a hibernating rat who’ve waited till the 8th dawn of the year for the first blogpost. But, hey, 8 is just the perfect number… 8 for infinity. From finite hibernation, I could be writing to infinity. From finite despair to infinite hope, finite anger to infinite love, finite expectations to infinite dreams and possibilities, ad infinitum… No matter how long I lay my pen to rest, I still believe in the one powerful thing that anchors my sanity… writing. The times I’m silent are the times ABC chaos swirl in my head, raring to escape, aching for freedom and clarity.

Home –I can find it anywhere, provided I take my heart with me. I could be “home” with another soul for a fleeting moment… until Fate blows us to opposite directions. The love I hold for that being will never be lost for certain but the expression of it probably will. While I’m at it, I treat it as a life’s feast –devouring all, giving all… no limit.

I lost touch with Abest for months. It stung for a while. Had the connection been broken? It sure felt that way then but the few exchanges of words recently dispel the doubts. The connection wasn’t lost. And there’s broAbear whom I had a fall out with the past year. The phone call on New Year’s eve re-established the ties. And mom’s surgery on that day. A pacemaker and implantable defibrillator that regulate heartbeat became a permanent part of her. I told her the doctor just wanted to make sure her heart still beats “Gor-yo… gor-yo… gor-yo!” for my dad when I talked with her over the phone and she expressed her fears on going under the knife. Her heart’s as good as new. The love’s always there. My blood. My ties. My home.

When we lose sight of, we lose touch with, we lose someone, our heart will always find the way…

My nose will lead me to the cheese.

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*There was a man who saw a scorpion floundering around in the water. He decided to save it by stretching out his finger but the scorpion stung him. The man still tried to get it out of the water but it stung him again. Another man told him to stop saving the scorpion but he said, “It’s the nature of the scorpion to sting. It’s my nature to love. Why should I give up my nature to love just because it’s the scorpion’s nature to sting?” MORAL: Don’t give up loving. Don’t give up your goodness even if the people around you stings.*

The message above was forwarded to me by my dearest friend, sometime after my utter defiance of her order to let go of the two people I love who was causing me pain at the time…my mother and my partner. It’s probably my friend’s way of acquiescing_ knowing my bull-headedness, her way of finally giving her approval since she’s very much against my partner. Nobody’s opinion can intimidate me on how I should be feeling. I am inside my head and heart. I know when to hold on or let go.

Love sometimes stings. Pain is a part of loving. Words and actions can sting. We say or do things which can hurt the other without even meaning to. When you’re stung, do not focus on the hurt. Look beyond your pain. Knowing the loved one well will help you understand why he do the things he do. He could be suffering, too. The parts of us where we tend to deviate from love are not our defects but our wounds. Keep an open mind and an open heart. Keep holding on.

Looking past the stingers, you’ll see a sweet, caring, sensitive, loving, and compassionate individual. When someone’s innately good, the goodness shines through. No matter how cruel, indifferent, uncaring, or unloving a person appears, the beauty lies within . . . just lying dormant for some reasons.

For some of us whose scars run deep, we tend to see an ulterior motive in anyone’s deep interest in us. We always wonder what the other person wants from us _ favor, job, sex, money. We find it not easy to believe that we’re wanted only for who we are as a person and not for what we can possibly give. We doubt somebody’s love that we, consciously or unconsciously, go to great lengths (even behaving recklessly and irresponsibly) to test the depth and genuineness of that person’s love. We try to drive the one away by behaving in a way that stings, testing his limit.

Whatever my mother’s wounds that make her reject me, I hope it will fade away. Whatever my partner’s wounds that fire him to act in a reckless way, I hope it will heal. Their pains are mine, too. It sting but I got just the right antidotes I know _ my faith in them and my love for them. Unlike the scorpion, it’s definitely not their nature to sting. Somewhere sometime, something had violated their naturally loving state that made them act the way they’re acting now. It’s just a phase. They will get through. They are the toughest, most beautiful creatures I know.

“. . .In love, I unconditionally accept the evolution of others…” (The Warrior’s Prayer, author unknown)

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I got three hours to kill before returning to work. Hop I went for the bus after picking up my medications from cousinbear’s lair which j. lo bought and mixed for me. Destination: mall. I soaked up the warmth of the mall the moment I got through the door. A welcome relief from the harsh weather and extreme cold outside. I barely made ten steps down the stairs when the warmth turned to sharp pain in the chest… Darn “Noel”, echoing in the halls of the mall.

During this kind of season, it is not just my winter allergy, ICD and SAD I had to deal with. I am also allergic to Christmas songs. I tried to block the carols from my ears… and heart, for over an hour while awaiting the photos to be developed.

I became only aware of the music again when James Blunt’s gloomy song is on the airwaves. It reminds me of Moo Moo. Now, the heck with my wounds… other souls are bleeding, too. I ran out from the mall to the cold world outside, making a mental note to bring my earphones on my future stops there…

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Like a fleeting light across the sea of darkness, a powerful presence will emerge.  This entity can move, invigorate, revitalize, and transform… or simply propel you to fly high, like the wind beneath your wings.  A shaft of light beaming on the dark spot of the soul; fueling the fire in your heart; replenishing the luster in the eyes… making you see beyond what the naked eye can see.  A radiant light that create the spark in the dead spot of the brain.

The sudden gust of wind… you sail in its teeth or off it.  It will suck you in its warm core.  Blow you away to towering heights.  Fanning the scorching desire to find out more, know more, want more.  Never quenching the thirst to discover more.  Giving you the will to live… livelier, fully human, to take more risks, and break through barriers; more substance;  more meaning in a gypsyesque existence; more spaces to explore; more possibilities to discover; more worlds to conquer.

Waxing.  Waning.  Its presence ephemeral… but its memory eternal.  It will never die… and will remain fixed in the mind, imprinted in the heart.  Invisible.  Enchanting.  Untouchable.  Potent.  Intangible.  The entity’s presence is strongly felt.  It looms large in the head.  Fills up the senses.  Fills you up inside and lift your whole being up.

The wind.  Its breath warm and soothing.  Its whoosh in rhythm with my beating heart.  Its sense of wonder and excitement in line with mine.  Its breeze a music, in tune with mine.  Same wavelength, however different shores.  Its train of thought in synch with mine.  It’s simply real and magical.  Its view of the universe… somewhat in the same frame as mine.

Two entities . . . they can never be one.

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Bachelor of Science in Biology. Swell! What was I thinking, majoring in that field when all I ever loved about it was the roll of organisms’ scientific names in my tongue, being Latin… now, that’s Languages. The course was way off the road to the career I want so much to pursue.

It is never too late to change course and find the right track. When you spent most of your life eye-ing something far out of your reach, you will eventually get there. Time and money-wise, I still cannot afford the formal study. I am a poor earthling, sweetie, but richly blessed. The One-Up-There keeps dropping angels on my big lap. Angels bearing on-the-job-training for me; presenting me huge opportunities to hone my skills in the profession I want to be in. My writing tools are ready; the ones Ms lovelydia suggested are on my toplist to purchase next.

On my first few attempts at editing, I felt unsure and guilty messing up with somebody’s written thoughts. When I got the gist of it, I turned keyboard-happy –prune here, trim this, cut that off, plant some words here, chop these! I am unforgiving and ruthless, and I am deriving such pleasure from it A blast! This must be how a pig feels when wallowing in mud –the dirtier it gets, the happier it is. The more disorganized, incomprehensible, and incongruous letters, words, and sentences are; the higher the level of excitement.

What makes it doubly joyful is, I have an accomplice –in tampering, he he! I am sooo honored when she called me “partner”. One word, overwhelms me. See the power of words? Partner make me feel sooo high, I feel I sprouted wings! Wow, angel na bigla aketch, mamu… isang pilyang baklang anghel! SweeTeacher said we’re equals, isang paligo @ occasional p… lang ang lamang niya sa akin. Pssst, pardner, equal din tayo dyan, ‘lam mo po ba?:) Abu talaga kita, to the max!

The real challenge lies in the seemingly perfect writings. You become entranced by the power and beauty of the words that you tend to overlook the imperfections. The tiny errors, missing punctuation marks, awkward words, and occasional disorganization of sentences; all these things you see upon focused and closer scrutiny; deeper analysis. And you work on polishing them. While you’re doing so, you’re learning BIG time, and so with the one who penned the writing you’ve put your heart and soul to work on. Editor and writer improving their crafts.

It is akin to life. I am open to close scrutiny by the selected few, makes me see the dirt on my face… and I will act on it; grateful for the one who held the mirror for me. I can edit bits of my present life but not the whole of it, and never the past. By golly, that’s silly! Scrap the past. I defied Kim’s Law somewhere on this page. Now, be kind enough and show me faults you see on the piece. Be quick, before I turn into a critic’s ass-chewing witch!

I am an apprentice. My great sweeTeacher on Editorial 101 gave me a list of rules, which is growing each time there is a new “candy” (article). I refer to it as Kim’s Law. When I am working on a piece of somebody’s writing, I am in a garden of words, walking in the writer’s shoes. When I stumble on thorny weeds and loopy vines, sweeTeacher will leave me bleeding to figure out how to untangle myself. Tough teaching method. (Just a scrape, anyway.) But a soft heart, hands over a first aid kit while pointing out other unseen and tiny, easy-to-miss spots that ruin the beauty of the garden –the allergens creating the itchy feeling that something is amiss…

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