of men, bots, and relationships

My FB “pals” recently had an amusing discussion on sexbots and I found this comment from brad torgersen a thrilling possibility.
“Sex droids may well doom the human species, beyond religious and/or Luddite communities who see it as a duty to continue to procreate for procreation’s sake. Forget the female droids. When convincing male droids arrive, it’s over. Women will pay top dollar for a robo-boyfriend who never goes out late with the guys, never gets drunk, never smokes or has other bad or annoying habits, never has bad hygiene, is sculpted physically in exactly the way any woman wants (especially “down there”) and—this is the most important part—never prematurely ejaculates, is always as big and as hard as the woman needs, for as long as she needs it, and the droid can be programmed to “sex talk” her in her favorite actor’s voice. Hell, the droid can look exactly *like* her favorite actor, if she wants. Actors could handsomely *retire* on licensing their voices and imagery, simply for this purpose.”
Me (in my room while reading): Hah!
A friend named Holly had this response to brad: If I could get all that and never have to deal with a human male again as far as a personal relationship goes, count me in. I never got all that from any man, it does’t exist. Only deceit, dishonesty and selfishness.
This is from a formerly long-term married woman who is the most loyal, trustworthy, honest person you could meet. I won’t give any man the chance to kick me in the teeth again.
It seems a lot of women are as jaded as I am when it comes to relationships with men. Honestly, in my vision, they’ve come to all look alike not to mention they all behave pretty much the same way.
A very young lady who has started working for me is seeing a lesbian and it makes me wonder if dating a gal isn’t as stressful as dating a dude or won’t end up as shitty. The idea of romancing another woman, however, sounds bland and is so uninspiring to me as I’m every inch straight — no matter how I’ve been told repeatedly lesbians do it best when it comes to “that.”
On a serious note, I’d pondered how my life has been so peaceful since I’ve lost interest to be part of a couple. Barely a month ago a younger man who was probably one of my customers — his face was familiar —  tried to make small talk while I was waiting for a jeepney on my way home. A brief smile and nod were all I’d be willing to spare as a comeback. Another time someone would smile at me on a train; I awkwardly smiled back so he wouldn’t feel he got snubbed then I hurriedly looked away. Also, a few had made an effort to befriend me online and establish some chat interaction yet I’d somehow find a reason to completely cut off ties soon enough.
Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy dealing with men and I can find pleasure by being plain friendly to them although I take extra care these days to avoid misinterpretation. And I do still enjoy watching and reading feel-good romance stuff — yeah, even at my age, don’t laugh.
But my reality makes it clear I’m not suited for whatever it is I might be missing. Just like I’m not the kind who’s wired to experience lasting felicity just by being the other half of a twosome. No need to remind anyone of my deeds and decisions in the past on matters of the heart which are something I’m not proud of. That it’s more likely my low self-esteem caused all that is a harrowing truth. What’s the point going through all that again?
Somebody had asked, “Isn’t it lonely?” Frankly, I don’t know…or maybe, I can’t tell anymore. But the answer most probably is “Not at all.” A hard-core introvert that I am, solitude has never been an issue; sorrows, troubles out of love alliances and despair from romantic attachment were.
But hold it, I’m definitely counting on that robo-boyfriend my FB pals are talking about. Surely it’ll come out very soon. Make it very very soon. 🙂

Otto Wambier’s Tragic Case Broke My Heart

Image result for images of a younger Otto Warmbier

Quite so. The boy was only 22 years old; three years younger than my son. Otto didn’t deserve the kind of fate that was handed to him. I can only imagine how terrified he must have felt last year during the process and his trial and the days that followed after receiving his sentence. The most vile, trashy news site which is Yahoo.com published heartless reader comments that even blamed this poor young man for his choice to go to North Korea and committing the mistake of taking down a banner to take home as souvenir. Many Liberals expressed similar thoughts while displaying their appalling demeanour toward the issue. How low could these people get.

I have very little compassion for the K citizens, whether they belong to the North or the South. I know their real nature as I’ve dealt with these type of beings for 10 long years. What little respect I’d previously held for the Obama administration, due to its inaction, completely dissipated as well.

My deep condolences to Otto Wambier and his family. My heart feels heavy every time I think about this unnecessary tragedy.

Final pictures show laughing Otto Warmbier days before arrest in North Korea

Beige Reality

Half a world away from them all. With such location functioning as my shelter, my ordinary existence — through an ether that unites inhabitants across freeways — is suited to join the rising sun for everyone to see. Yet there’s no distance the mind and soul cannot reach. What can they perceive that’s beyond my outline of intended exposure? How do they sometimes just magically gain the key to the secret doors of my inner traits and psyche?

There remains a mission in me to search for any flash that could prompt a few thoughts, a series of lines, even a single one; steadily waiting for that jet of blue flame that might yield a sensitive, sound pretty script for these pages.

Any analysis, however, by Facebook or Twitter or Tumbler of my being would be futile. I am old now. What purpose could it probably serve? I simply hanker for peace, ease, and a li’l writing piece. I hope that’s not too much to ask.

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RECENT FB POST: I was at my happiest in that land, where I felt I truly belong — in the sense everything about the place could foster my identity, spirit and the many fancies within my heart .

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A frustrated guitar player that I’d been, I was relentless about my son continuing his guitar and piano lessons (he’s naturally talented) because — one of the primary reasons — I couldn’t get enough of the mainly guitar music of the 70’s band Bread. I had wished for him to play this song for me one day — it didn’t happen 🙂 . Anyway the plucking, the lyrics and the melody render it as one of the most memorable.
I found a diary underneath a tree, and started reading about me.
The words she’d written took me by surprise.
You’d never read them in her eyes […]
Her meaning now as clear as sea…
The love she waited for was someone who’s not me.”

Happy Birthday Dearest One

 

I used to think I was a much better parent to my child than you were to me. But I’m beginning to discern it may not be so.

Remember the time you told me how things would be better if I’d soon settle down again with someone – just anyone, you said – with whom I could spend the rest of my life with? Amusingly appalling, I thought, because we’d always been confident about our kind; at the same time I could sense you were plain worried of me ending up completely alone when you aren’t around anymore. You even made my son promise to you never to leave me ever. And we both believed him — yet he left a few years after. It became one more testament as to the only person who truly cared for me after all.

I also remember the moment shortly after you were gone, when this other daughter of yours had tried to talk me into shifting my devotion – and I turned speechless; it was not because I didn’t know what to think: She simply stood no chance of convincing me; how it was such an impossibility. Others would differ in their opinion as to my decision, but they didn’t know our history. They’d never come to know of or comprehend my feelings.

Secretly, I still carry the pain of your absence. The pain I’ve learned to conceal behind my every smile; ensconced with the same grief which I make sure descends beyond the perception of my external world. I’ve gotten used to doing just fine dealing with my reality – with the notion nobody understands and will ever understand. Silence has been more comforting anyway.

There are times I realize the tears aren’t solely caused by the sadness of missing you. I’m being sustained for the love I keep — sinking deeper with the time, with my memories of you — the kind I’ve kept neither those light nor dark hours could reach.

Now more than ever, it’s become all so clear – how it has finally dawned that your final resting place is inside my heart.

Happy Birthday, my dearest one.

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lovely brief September tale

Sunny charm. Vibrant smile. Wonderful presence. It took me a li’l while to really appreciate them all. You may not look like the ideal prince a girl falls for. But what a guy.

I’ve long forgotten how a man could be capable of treating me with pure designs of friendship, with tenderness, and a gentle comprehension of what I truly am. For so long I’ve gotten used to the usual opposite gender’s conceit, sluggish mean spirits and shady intents.

It seems this Scandinavian paradise is granting me more than just a view of its celestial backdrops.

Same age, same situation — yet we came from different worlds. You easily surrender to the radiance of a single moment. The light of the sun comes across whichever path you walk through. You can surround yourself with equally amiable acquaintances you’ll sincerely consider and embrace as family in a matter of days. That much faith in life and in people is something I quite lack or may have lost somewhere in my past.

You said you’re perplexed by the fact I’ve been using my camera at each chance, leaving no occasion for interaction with you and the rest of our mates. I smile and mutter some lame reason and ask for pardon, only to excuse myself a few seconds after because I’m constantly on the run for opportunities to take in the vistas, the sounds and sights of the surroundings and its natives at our every destination.

Well, I’m back to my reality now. In my hand is the tiny paper where you scribbled your name and number, recalling that moment when you told me to find you on that social media page. And I did. It surprised me to find the rushly-taken snapshot of us displayed on your timeline. Privately, I managed to explain myself to you – my behaviour during the trip. You said “no worries.” You also said you wish for me to come to New Jersey so you can show me around your city. Then we’ll do New York, Philly, and Boston.

And I thought to myself OMG… What would I say? “Let me think about it” was my response. Although deep down I already knew: It’s never going to happen.

In the few instances we were able to hold a conversation, you seemed to grasp the kind of nature I keep that the good soul in you has been trying to understand.

I wonder how long it’ll take before you realize how utterly broken I am. Will you be able to carry on looking at me with those kind blue eyes and undertake to scoop me up with your warm benevolent ways?

In the end, I guess you will never know how you will forever be a beautiful part of this whole experience. An exquisite cherished thought in the serene realm of this September tale.

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My most favorite from Lionel Richie became a song I lovingly dedicate in memory of my father. His birthday is coming this October.

last-minute solemn thoughts and revelations before setting off

I wrote my first entry prior to my initial trip to Europe in the past; now that I’m again on my way to the same continent, I’ve found my thoughts not much different from the ones I’d had when I was a couple of years younger. My feelings about life, God, aging, solitude, and the dearest persons to me are pretty much the same.

There have been changes. My son is gone, and so is my full-time job – both of utmost importance to me. For twenty two years I have defined myself by my love for my child; and for a decade, by my love for teaching. Both of which I ended up letting go due to circumstances beyond my control.

I’m old now. I’ll be reaching my 50th year soon. I must have spooked you there, right? 🙂 I sound like a 16 year old lass here most of the time. I still feel young at heart, that’s why; even though the mirror has been more and more unmerciful in its reflection of truth as time goes by.

What has taken place between me and my child has been heart-breaking, I try not to brood over it anymore. I’ve already done my very best for him.

Although I’m not a believer, I wish there was an afterlife. So I’d be able to spend time with the greatest loves of my life: my father and all the dearest dogs and pets I’ve had – they haven’t been forgotten, and I miss them all so much.

Often have I felt I don’t belong in this world. But my heart is still beating, my eyes can see, my limbs intact. There’s no excuse not to get on with the business of living. So I’ll see how far down the road this life will take me.

 

what do you associate me with?

Fun question by Tumbler for its members to take part in. Since this is my official blog, I’m doing it here.

Lemme see… (I think) I associate myself with:

stormwinds that can sway the trees gracefully

beautiful sunsets, sunrise too after I’ve had a good night sleep; early morning fog, cool breezes

a starry night with the bright full moon; just the glorious moon could be enough most of the time

pretty cute writing notebooks and materials (I love buying them though many of them remain unwritten for years; I still like keeping them all)

lightning without the thunder; rains, rainy days on weekends

filtered

empty libraries, neat spaces, filtered sunshine through the trees or curtains, pretty beds and white blankets

delicious seafoods, hard-action films, pop songs

simple living, minimum possessions, spartan or monk-like existence

my awe for favorite (classical) authors so far: Thomas Hardy, George Eliot, Washington Irving, Victor Hugo, Albert Camus, the Bronte sisters, Hermann Hesse – after reading one or two of their works

colorful gardens, rooftops, view of bright city lights from someplace high, fireworks display

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Source:, Tumbler

 

images of faraway galaxies and the universe, rainbows near, beautiful places on earth

all versions of the sky – cloudy, deep blue, orange, overcast, sunny

long eyelashes – (I ain’t a beauty but) they’re the first thing people notice and compliment about my looks, fair skin, baby-fine hair

solitude, late-night ponderings, peace and quiet, and yeah — feelings…

tender hearts, romantic love forevermore; love that’s worth dying for (only found in books and movies, I know I know)

fancy and oftentimes flamboyant drop or dangling earrings, red lipstick, (often red) nailpolish, minimal makeup

high sensitivity, honesty, stubbornness (at times), silliness, passion

deep sympathy for animal suffering

misanthropic disposition, certain prejudices (oh please, those who deny having an ounce of bigotry are awfully phony)

sunlight

freedom from obligation

dramatic prose and poetry, words words words (according to an ex-blogpal)

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source: riggu, Tumbler

 

memory of a lover’s gaze penetrating into my soul

Anything that takes my breath away. Anything that inspires me. Thing is, I’m easy to please and inspire. 😉

Wohow. Answering that single question was fun indeed. There’s more but that’s it for the meantime. 

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One of my all-time faves which I used to sing with a childhood sweetheart/playmate named Alvin Afable with his naturally light golden brown hair (owing to his blonde good-looking American dad).