for piece and peace

To be able to read and enjoy good pieces. To be able to somehow learn from very good writers, which requires making peace with everyone on social media — minus any real discourse and drama. No friendship is necessary; co-existing is what’s important. True camaraderie through the net isn’t possible anyway; things are better with the right distance. Serenity is what we really need.

Oh Pizza! Plus Milk Tea and Sunset Watching

Hooked on selfies and posting them on FB and Instagram. I keep going back to the cool wonderful places in the city I’ve been to recently.

Image may contain: 1 person, sitting, eating, pizza, table, food and indoor
I just discovered S&R Pizza which is delicious
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I bought the Royal Choco Milk Tea which tastes so-so to be able to get the seat and enjoy the view
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Waiting for the sunset although the sudden drizzle kinda spoiled the fun. Ah, the wind and my hair….

don’t take it seriously, honey

Watch my finger push a button. Click — oh, you’re there. Another push of the button. Click – hey, you’re gone. Just like magic. Now I see you, now I don’t. See, it’s quite easy.

My posts are rarely about anyone in particular. As I keep repeating, I basically write for myself. I’ve long stopped inviting readers and nobody needs to come here if they sometimes can’t stand the things I talk about.

To bid people online to refrain from dropping by your place is bootless as well. The only solution to that is to go hiding – just like what I do (turn my blog private) whenever I wish to become invisible across any radar.

What’s the big deal anyway if I take a peek at what you have to say? I do it, too, on other blogs. The problem is, they’ve all stopped blogging. And you’re the only one left. So have mercy and don’t shoo me off. 🙂

I also had religiously followed a former computer programmer’s assorted everyday thoughts for two straight years. As in I visited his site and ran through his blog index to reread and review his posts more than twice a day. It all ended when his bitterness and breakdown over Donald Trump’s success became unbearable to witness. But then, he had constantly been reminding his readers how much of an as$h*le he was. I didn’t mind that at the time actually – I simply wanted to digest his smart pieces and credentialed language skills. Same with a previous dear (black) chatmate whose daily hits would reach around 60 – nearly half of which could be attributed to me because I never use wordpress Follow. He said he was grateful. 🙂

That’s the kind of reader I am. I get attached to blogs I’ve come to like. Besides, let’s admit it, we’re always on the lookout for other writers’ style. And I do like learning from the finest ones. Feel happy instead that you’ve been inadvertently mentoring me because I’m one of your, ahem, admirers. If in the future I discover somebody new whose writing flair surpasses yours, hah, you’ll be totally replaced. Kaput. And you’ll probably miss me… 😉

In the meantime, it makes me glad to have you foremost in my heart in this realm in spite of not very pleasant words which had been hurled. I’d still willingly cheerily lovingly hug and squeeze you. Consider it a privilege, honey.

Peace… Ok, ok?

—–

golden

Shooting Star (maybe a prose never a poem 3)

I found you once upon a time

inside a beautiful wilderness,

alone…faceless…

where the pensive, solemn, penitent man in you

had been reflected through 

those haunting peaks and valleys.

Then I came to witness 

the spring up of a galaxy

which cast glows from beneath each rhapsody

where sentences after sentences 

laced within your exquisite mind

began encircling me 

like pearls in the sky.

In the quiet of the night

the brightest of them all shoots by,

taking my breath away

till all of its flames burn out.

Heartened by an affection

this memory will bless

I take your hand so on my lips it’ll rest,

that I may feel its warmth against my cheek,

while I close my eyes

knowing fully 

there can never be a prose

nor a poem nor a song

that could breed words 

for the way I have loved.

 

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-geena, january 2016

shooting star

I am a bundle of…what?

There exists an unforgettable dear blogging buddy from my past. Why unforgettable, you might ask? He had gone reading and commenting over many of my oldest posts and subsequently dropped this bomb of an observation, in a friendly manner…maybe: 

geena, you’re a bundle of contradictions.”

Hmm.

My preliminary internal reaction was like “oh okay.” But after a day or two of deep cogitation, it was: “wait, I am a … whaaat?”

Listen, bundle sounds like bungle. So how can this turn good.

It was the first time somebody made such an assessment of me – considering my more than 40 long years of existence on our planet. He’s introspective and a blogging icon so his every input had been meaningful for me. I wanted to knock-knock on his blog and politely question him as to what he meant exactly by his remark. Of course I chickened out because he’d be then quite convinced how lacking I am in comprehension. I couldn’t risk losing the camaraderie.

I tried googling it. Not much luck. The precise meaning of “a bundle of contradictions” and its aptness to my essence as a living entity remains nebulous. Diaphonous. Amorphous.

It’s been three years. The ex-buddy had since dropped off from the face of blogearth when he found a job and got busier. Yet I’m still wondering and scratching my head as to how many or which of my posts led him to believe I’m a “wad of mismatch and variance” (Darn, I really should stop using this lousy thesaurus of mine).

To be continued……. (don’t ask me when)

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Blogger Insight and Circumstance

I hope for peace with my co-bloggers all the time.

Nevertheless, an “expal” might have gotten pissed off owing to my observation from some recent period of a particular propensity, leading to the blogger hitting back with a snide remark that I must be seeking desperately for love and attention. My only response was “Whoa…” (insert an eye roll to boot).

But then I’ve seen many a female blogger with my status get attacked in the same vein by others who never took the time to know those women through their blog posts.

Still, shouldn’t one ponder on the following questions before dispensing judgment to someone like me who has been open about her circumstances and life stories in this ethernet we populate?

  • Would I go public as to how broken and flawed I am as a human being if my purpose had been to attract the opposite sex?
  • In spite of my being deemed sweet, can anybody stand up and allege that I have initiated a connection beyond mere blog friendship?
  • Notwithstanding having received emails from a few amiable readers, did I ever give anyone encouragement to cultivate more than plain camaraderie with me?
  • Think about it: How can WP citizens imagine of fanciful relationships blossoming when each and every one of us is –now don’t be offended, please– practically disclosing in our respective blogs (oft unawarely) how much of a loser we are?

The blogworld has been my escape from the blistering events that had taken place in my most recent years: It has turned into an alternate world for me. Alright alright, I also admit to not having a life these days. And neither do most of you. 🙂

girl3A month before, I even set up a dummy blog that would have the central purpose of Liking posts and commenting on the newly-found blogs I wish to follow — in as much as I wouldn’t want to unintentionally end up inviting any more new visitors to this site. You can find its avatar on the right side.

No denying I have held dear a few “buddies” — three or four remarkable characters maybe — within my blogging years. Alas, my affection, not to mention my sense of loyalty could be imprisoning — which renders me oblivious of other worthy bloggers. I had gotten attached to some people’s blogs. I had expressed warmth and admiration to a selected few. I won’t deny I had wished I were one of their most esteemed WPress associates, too. That hardly merits a misinterpretation though, does it?

I might have flirted in the past with my first two email buddies. Ok, I can be a flirt and have been so, especially in my younger days: It could have extended over my online persona spontaneously. Such audacity has probably been fueled by the fact I am so far away from all of you. So so far away.

And the flirting has lain dormant for quite some time.

I’ve a need to engage a Muse to be able to write something romantic, true. A few poems had been written with specific bloggers in mind. One of them a highly popular blogger“boy” from the Bronx; Another was the fantastic MrPoppins who happens to be my former black buddy, and who actually feels more like a younger brother to me. Both have long departed from our sphere.

Seeing that the heavens had forgotten to bless me with scholastic smarts, I wish to continue hanging around the cerebral blogs of good writers. I confess to my ongoing quest for bloggers who possess the finest intellect and wisdom to foster my personal growth as a writer.

Having said that, this blog is basically a memoir, not a gazette. If I had the time to work up an educational piece, I’d love to do so. In the meantime, my heart, my soul, and my background tales are this site’s focal essence. Just to be able to write is my preoccupation and foremost goal.

I haven’t yet pasted the chronicles of my romantic history which I have wanted for so long to do across these pages; what with my apprehensions as to being misunderstood in the aftermath — considering my passionate nature has been a consistent player throughout my life.

Let’s be grounded by the reality everything that presents itself here is supposed to stay in this virtual world; In this realm which prevails separately from our physical world.

Capping things off: my Stats has long stopped showing signs of movement. It only means no one reads my blog anymore. I guess the main boon is it’s safe for me now to write about sex.

Yehey. 🙂

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tissuelove

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The song “It’s Impossible” has the lovely original lyrics that tell the sun to leave the sky and ask whether the ocean could keep from rushing to the shore. Its beautiful Spanish version “Somos Novios” below by Andrea Bocelli and Christina Aguilera became my favorite as well.  

“And tomorrow… Should you ask me for the world, somehow I’d get it.
I would sell my very soul, and not regret it. For to live without your love, it’s just impossible.”

A Few Thoughts On Blogging

It’s not easy for me to find blogs that cater to my taste. Only a couple of blogs remain that I confess gladly going to. One of them – the “fun” one — which I hadn’t visited for many weeks unfortunately had closed down which came to my knowledge only last week.

I am not into blogging politics. “You read me, I’ll read you” isn’t my thing, which means I needn’t be poked to go to someone’s blog. Popular blogs, silly, interesting fun ones I can endure yet half-baked responses or replies still make me want to puke. Take note: I’ll remain a reader if I like your blog except if there arise reasons to make me stop dropping by regularly.

Blogging friendship? It’s something I don’t believe in. This is a virtual world. Unless your online pal is a neighbor of yours, none of the camaraderie you establish here is real.

And then there are stuff the Internet offers and allows its users embarrassingly. Need a single example? Ok. I’ve had second thoughts about saying this. It’s been on my mind for quite a while yet it took me this long to say it as I may hit a nerve and truly anger “one or two pals”: There’s something not right about men reaching senior age who hang around blogs of teenage girls. Kind of eerie. Yet I have seen it happen around – practiced by some male bloggers. Ruminate on this: What would somebody think if I (were, for example, an exemplary woman of decent taste and all) kept on hanging around a teenage guy’s site that hardly offers anything special?

An astute female therapist I once followed told me I have power of observation that is unusual. That I can easily discern what others don’t. Her assessment was unfolded right after the time when she closed down her blog, opened another with everything changed – yet the new blog had been inserted on a “buddy’s” blogroll that when I clicked and started reading it, I knew at once who the owner of the blog was. Her unique writing style didn’t escape me. I proceeded to email her to ask permission if I could follow her.

I may not be always right in my instincts yet in the end, I’ve had more people saying to me “you’re right” than those who don’t.

At my age, I’m entitled to have opinions and wish to express them here. You already get I am not highly intellectual, my academic interests are limited, my scribbling style on the floral side. Plus this is just another diary of a woman approaching her middle age.

Yup, there’s nothing interesting here. Do not waste even a minute of your time on my blog. It would be best to stick with the words you had once released. Farewell. Adios. Goodbye.

Reasons, Aims, and Bunkers (of this blog)

It was my son who set up this blog – this blog which would constitute the testaments of my being, both present and bygone. It was my hope my son would read its contents down the road so he’d come to know better the woman who had raised him, warts and all. Now that a fresh horizon has spread wide before him, it seems neither time nor interest on his part is going to allow that to happen. Thus, the stardusts from this side of my heaven are all mine to catch. This blog could only serve me — I might as well run wild and free in it. It’s a never-ending pleasure marshaling my thoughts, my feelings, my history, and seeing them crafted in words thereafter.

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I am not your typical blogger. For more than a month late last year, this blog went underground because I kept hopping over to a popular site to comment regularly for fun. Yet I felt uncomfortable for the attention my blog might attract – from just anyone. Yes my favorite bloggers’ stories and perspectives thrill me; belonging to a community, however, is another thing — I came to realize ages ago — as it hinders my aim for freedom of expression here.

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What’s the difference between you and me? Chances are, I know you more than you know me. The touchstone for my commentaries I made in your site could be a lot sounder — because I did read the huge mound of stuff you had earlier sent off to the ether.

One or two of my most recent commenters, neither of whom had even bothered to read my pieces, tried to cut me down by shoving me into a category they seem to look down on. There was sudden movement on my Stats (around six hits from probably different viewers) for one day. I will never know what else they could have said against me on their blogs. It’s something I have no plan to dwell on.

I stand by my every conviction — now and forever. I have held out these views even before I had chanced upon any of your blogs. It’s never been about anyone in this blogosphere. It’s no secret and no shame on my part admitting the things I write circle around me.

And neither your raves nor sympathy has ever been obliged. That had been made clear by me repeatedly. In as much as no smokescreen will be necessary — I have long grown tired of the people who can’t accept me for who I am, for what I am.

*****

I am no angel. For all I know, I may still be paying for my sins of yesteryears. Life could, furthermore, be penalizing me for feeling deeply.

I have less and less to lose as time goes by. The two most important people in my life have already slipped away. But I choose to keep staring at my fears and griefs in the eye, sans the succor of precarious diversions or any substance that only offers ephemeral ease. In the same strand I’ve no intention of losing my grip on the remaining good branches left. That’s how I deal with my personal storms. That’s how I value my life and myself.

The zero hour will soon find me and pummel me to the ground. Until then I remain as the kind I’ve always been known for.

As one of the last men standing.

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I am for aye a fervid fan of Burt Bacharach’s beautiful melodies. One of my favorites, April Fools, makes me muse over my affection for writing and this blog. This blog which I had considered giving up in many a recent time — but that the sentimental fool in me just wouldn’t let go.

It’s a song that begins with the words “In an April dream…

…little did we know, where the road would lead.

Here we are, a million miles away from the past, traveling so fast now…

No need to be afraid. True love has found us now.”