my lost anakin

Every time I pass by SM Makati, I always go inside Toy Kingdom. First, because I enjoy looking at the toys, especially the action figures and the toy cars, and second, to see if the Anakin Skywalker action figure I liked so much but did not buy was again available, which I doubt. Grrrr…

This is an action figure I found in the Web (which I’d like to have),

but the one I saw looks more real.

I wish I had bought it right there and then, but I did not have excess money (it was Christmas season) and I thought of coming back when I have money to spare. Voila! I lost my Anakin. Darn. I know this is not practical, but I wish I had used my credit card (cash advance or ever-dependable swipe) to buy it or to cover the other things my money then was allotted to. Oh, well.

If I could have something like this, I’d be really happy

and may forget the one I “lost.”

Meanwhile, I’d still visit Toy Kingdom whenever I pass by.

one proud mordsith

Eduard is my 8-year-old cousin who’s very close to me, as all my cousins are. But he is the only one who calls me mommy ate as I am, and try to be, like that to him.

But our conversations are really what make me proud and thankful that he learned the lessons I try to inculcate to him during our little talks before we sleep at night.

While walking at a mall yesterday…

mordsith: duard, what do you want for your birthday (which is May)?
duard: hmmm… (thinks for a second) anything. even if you don’t give me something, it’s fine.
mordsith: really?
duard: yes, ate.

Passing by a candy stand…

mordsith: you want some chocolates? I’ll buy you one.
duard: (looking at the candies and deliberating) no, ate. don’t buy candies.
mordsith: are you sure? it’s ok. I have money here, and it’s not that expensive. I’ll get you one.
duard: no, ate. let’s go (and he pulls me away from the candy stand).

At a bookstore…

mordsith: (looking at the book duard was browsing) that’s a good book duard! it has many fun puzzles and exercises, and right for your age. c’mon, let’s buy that.
duard: no, ate. I just wanna look at the books. let’s go, lola might already be waiting for us.
mordsith: duard, let’s buy this. it’s only cheap, and you can read it for the whole vacation (emphasizing that it’s worth it). just promise me you’ll take care of it.
duard: (hesitant but happy) ok, ate. I’ll only use pencil for this, and I’ll write good lettering, promise.

The Highlight of My "Writing" Career

I’m a frustrated writer. I have no conscious effort to be a writer, more so to be a good one. But I want to be a good writer.

When I was in grade 1 or so, I used to write poems when I’m bored. English poems about the clouds, plants, or animals. In a cross-wise paper, I wrote with big round letters. I felt I was a genius. haha. Since I learned to write until about grade 5, I wrote cards for every occasion to my parents and created the card itself. My illegible writing was bad, my artwork was worse, but my thoughtfulness was at its finest.

When I was in grade 6, my school planned to launch its first school organ. The advisers chose me to be Features Editor-English, and the very first front page was my article on the upcoming school election. The school year ended, and so was my career for the organ.

During high school, my laziness and mediocrity decided to stay with me throughout. I had no interest in joining extra curricular activities, except sports, and all I wanted was to go home every school day as soon as I can. I belong to the “cream” section, and I had classmates who were very good writers, joining writing contest even at the national level. I admired them and secretly wanted to join them in the school paper but never even tried to take the exam. I was confident I’d never make it. I’d never know if I was right.

I took up English Studies as a preparatory course for my dream job. Besides, it’s the only subject I’m good at! In UP, my insecurities grew even stronger, meeting good writers and speakers. Given the option to choose being a Language or a Creative Writing Major, I chose Language. I do not like forcing myself to write, and being a Creative Writing Major meant submitting more and more required papers, papers written creatively. It meant more demand of my time and my creative juices. The time I can manage, but creative juices I did not know where to get. Instead of improving my “writing” skills, I enjoyed my critical-thinking classes.

Five years ago, I began working as a copy editor. I was trained to be meticulous about grammar and punctuations. This, however, impeded my writing (as well as reading) skills, instead of helping it. I sometimes become overly concerned with grammar, and starting my sentences in conjunctions here is kinda “difficult” for me.

To help sustain my income and to somehow stimulate my dulling brain, I’ve been working as a freelance writer since 2006 but have been inactive for the past 2 years (dollar is lower now, and topics are more difficult). I wrote about pet supplements which I hardly know, reviews of book which I never read, and comparative analyses which somehow interest me but were never rarely available. Point is, I never got the satisfaction I expected from freelance writing. Forced writing was never a pleasure.

Less than a year ago, I started blogging. All your comments make me smile. Writers are good writers when they can play with words and when they can elicit emotions or responses from the readers. At least I have your comments.

And then dear sheng asked me if she can publish my article in the journal where she is an editor of. I hope she saw me when I read her message asking permission as I was thrilled, and I hope she saw me when I received a copy of the journal. My grin reached my ears, and I was excited and exhilarated. Sheng, thank you.

This is the highlight of my “writing” career. It has become more special for me because the article was written in Filipino (friends say I write better in English) and the topic was very close to my heart (nationalism).

Who knows? I may actually start at true writing career. haha

to be, or not to be; the question of predestiny

To be or not to be, that is the question;
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

Ah, yes. The famous soliloquy of Hamlet, written by the brilliant Shakespeare. The universal question of life and death, struggle and acceptance.

Oftentimes, we are confronted by decisions, some trivial and some make or break. Some people at some times think they can rule their lives by making the right choices and doing the right things. True enough, this happens to a few. For the many left disillusioned, here comes my next thought. Life is driven by fate, how little or how much I do not know; perhaps, it varies. Ah, uncertainty once again. That we rule our lives or that we don’t, I cannot say matter-of-factly yet. Frustration is borne out of uncertainty (not adventure) of one’s own life.

Some people think they’d be this or that if they do this or that. And some people hardly do a thing and be some strove hard to be. Sometimes you feel like ornamental grasses in an elaborate stage. Or a feather being blown by the wind. In the intrinsic pattern of the weave, how does it feel to be one insignificant thread?

brain-dead

This coming Sunday would be my last session for my basic web developing class. Finally. I wanted to study this for one reason. It has been postponed for around 2 months, and I almost did not enroll. It was my first time to study again in 5 years, and it was different—it was harder. When I was a kid, I memorized the preamble in less than an hour. Memorizing the periodic table element (names and symbols only) was not so hard, and I love memorizing Philippine geographic names. Five years ago, while working for an online travel company, ask me about all hotels or all airports (including their 3-letter codes) in the US and I can tell them all. But now, I could not tell which codes are for html and which are for CSS. After every class, it seemed to slip my mind right away! I’m doomed. Last Sunday, 80% of my time was spent surfing the net while in class. There’s no point listening. I could not follow the lesson (JavaScript) anyway. I will try to self-study, but I’m not hoping much that I can grasp the concept. I cannot figure those if–then–else constructions. To top it all, I have to submit a 4-page web site, and I have NO idea what to do, or if I can do it. Suggestions please. My brain cells are all dead.

a future that waits

The day is halfway finished, and I have another 12 hours, more like 6 hours, to wait. I could not force myself to concentrate as I am thinking of other work. I’ve done reading and answering comments on my new blog as well as checking online auctions. Now, I’m writing this to take my mind off the “call.” It feels like I have nothing else to do other than wait, or maybe work while waiting. Apologies for the ambiguities, I’m yet to face a future that waits.

more than a leaking faucet

Warning: rant post

With leaking faucets, I cannot fall asleep. Same with a ticking clock. So before I go to sleep, I make sure that all faucets are tightly closed, and I do not keep a ticking clock in my room. The sounds they make in the dead silence of the night are “loud,” and the anticipation of the next tick keeps me awake.

Last night was horrible. I live in a building with many units separated by thin walls. Even a singing in the bathroom or a loud conversation on the phone can be heard at midnight and early in the morning because of the quietness, but those are tolerable and do not last an hour. In a nearby house, there was a celebration, and yes, like most Filipino parties, they have videoke. It’s fun to sing along with friends and in a microphone; I myself enjoy videoke, even bought Magic Sing. But I am considerate with my neighbors. I do not maintain the loudest volume when other people are already sleeping. I do not talk to the mic as if I’m a VJ and as if everybody wants to listen. Oh, but these people did. Even the closed windows and humming sound of the air-con could not shut them out.

If bars with loud music are banned in residential areas, I wish they also have ordinances regulating such irritable activities. Celebrate all you want, but be considerate. Live, and let live.