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

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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).

the way I am according to them

It’s been raining all week. How I love the rainy season with its mild cold weather.

Since I’ve become fond of Tumbler, jotting down writer quotes has been fun and I’ve kept a few which I fancy describe the person that I am. Perhaps. 🙂

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I have punished myself by telling everyone about my life.

Vaslav Nijinsky, The Diary of Vaslav Nijinsky.

The head is too wise. The heart is all fire.

Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven King

I don’t profess to be different from my kind. I’m consumed by the same wants and the same longings.

Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature. My attachments are always excessively strong.

Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

I have no talent. I write poems for myself, to think things through, that’s all.

Anna Kamieńska, A Nest of Quiet

Thank God for books and music and things I can think about.

Daniel Keyes, Flowers For Algernon

I do not think I have it in me anymore to struggle and fight and suffer; I want to be quiet and happy.

Martha Gellhorn,  Selected Letters

She liked to disappear, even when she was in the same room as other people. It was a talent, as it was a curse.

Alice Hoffman, The Red Garden

I approach most things in life with a dangerous level of confidence to balance my generally low self-esteem.

Roxane Gay, Bad Feminist 

I love like a leaky faucet or I love like a dam breaking. There is nothing in between.

Shinji Moon

I was shy, withdrawn, and read obsessionally. But I never wanted to be anyone else other than me.

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anais Nin

That’s my problem: I think too much, and I feel too deeply. What a dangerous combination.

— Tumbler (via dryyoureyes-startbelieving)

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I was a romantic and sentimental creature, with a tendency towards solitude.

Isabel Allende, The House of the Spirits

Have you ever fallen into yourself and gotten lost? I’m so far from people, yet at times I wish for them. I wish I could understand them and deal with them without all the pain and bitterness that comes with contact.

Henry Rollins, ‘Black Coffee Blues’

I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes.

Ferdinand de Saussure

I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary woman, maybe?

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

I will never be a morning person, for the moon and I, are too much in love.

Testy McTesterson

You have so many layers, that you can peel away a few, and everyone’s so shocked or impressed that you’re baring your soul, while to you it’s nothing, because you know you’ve twenty more layers to go.

Craig Thompson, Carnet de Voyage
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love the photo. I forgot where I got it, sorry. 🙂

i miss being busy…and paid

I knew this feeling would come. No, I honestly don’t miss the academy or my bosses or my colleagues or the rotten students I had dealt with. It’s the sense of being preoccupied or rather hard-pressed a huge chunk of the time and, this one is the killer, getting paid for it that I miss. Someone advised me recently to simply return to that old job; I told him how different the situation is at school now compared to what things used to be. I couldn’t endure anymore handling my bosses’ very young kids and the teeners who have no interest learning my favorite language.

I am a complicated person with a simple life.

Charlotte Eriksson

My list of pleasure nowadays: I’m back to my ideal weight because I no longer earn extra cash to be able to eat at that expensive buffet restaurant on the weekends (a habit I developed late last year out of my justification “I had to do sth special before facing another shitty workweek”). I go to bed usually when dawn breaks, wake up at mumble-mumble ‘o clock (embarrassingly late, that’s why) and don’t need to indulge in 3 meals a day ‘coz I already possess superpowers for having had enough sleep. I now eat healthily because I cook – no choice since eating out and convenient foods are pricey. And voila! I currently run three other blogs that I fill up mostly with juvenile Tumbler quotes and images – owright ohright, that’s so inane it doesn’t count.

Revelation: I’m happiest when I’m in the process of publishing a blog post. Which only proves I’m an authentic writer, right? right? Yipee! 

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I keep changing my mind as to my travel plans. Well, the truth is I wanna visit all those splendid places in Europe. Not possible, though, so I’m gunning for the best ultimate single tour for myself – one that has the least cathedral, museum, church visits. The travel agent I’m in contact with must have had her eyeballs on repeated roll as I say to her one day “I think this package is great” then tell her the next day “this package is more fantastic and will suit me better.”

Anyhow, 2016 is meant for rest, reading, writing, and dreaming of adventure. No mulling over tomorrows or the future. Whatever apocalypse is destined to pounce, let it befall by the beginning of next year.

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happy me, Europe 2014