june ramblings — hey i’m only human

he’s been obsessed with an artist named marisa
look i’m sorry but she seems skinnier than morticia
maybe blinded by the taste he might have for her art
i still think omg sth’s truly wrong with his sight

— geena, 26june2019

++++++++++++++++

Drat, I made the mistake of responding warmly when mr. talentless poet (cum librarian) reached out once more.  Little did I know his taste for women really makes me go “eew”. I mean, marisa marko? Cmon… Now my looks are questionable because he has deemed me pretty. Aargh… Well, I’m entitled to my own taste and opinions. I’m only human.

chronic-life, Tumbler

“Busy” with…Life

I’m feeling tired, tired, tired. I’ve been very busy for the past three weeks, as in crazy busy I’ve had a hard time keeping up with stuff like cleaning my tiny house and doing laundry. Last June my lessor shocked me with the information they were closing down by July — which meant I had to stop my operations too and look for a new site for my booth. Then I had to seek my brother’s help for the whole construction and at the same time deal with all the red tape from this government agency my work is connected to and that’s the bullshit part of them all: dealing with people from that abominable agency.

Miraculously, I’ve been able to survive this particular ordeal. The entire time I was thinking “I can do it through one baby step at a time. Yes, just take a simple baby step this moment, then another…. and then another…”  Aaargh. That’s the only way to get through difficult periods — especially at work. The go-signal from the agency is all I’ve been waiting for these days to get me starting again.

Okay, so I also miss mr. poet cum librarian. And I miss writing cheesy corny poetry. Yet I’m also relieved we aren’t in touch anymore. Because we just kept struggling on each other’s terms. I don’t have enough time right now agonizing over things like that. The booth transfer has already taken so much of my energy, my schedule, my finances. This time I want to mainly focus on stabilizing once more my source of income. Because I intend to save again so I’ll be able to go back somewhere in Europe for the last time — which, I believe, has always been my ultimate dream. Traveling to that continent. An escape to a more beautiful world. The most beautiful of all worlds.

 

Vienna, Austria, dec 2017

in Europe, dec 2017

Venice, Italy, dec 2017

 

Repercussions To Be Expected

With my last piece, I chose to risk losing all my male blog pals for the slim chance my message would reach the consciousness of even a sole female in our blogosphere. I am tired of filtering out my words here so as not to slight my supposed buddies in any way. But the truth remains cultivating online friendship was not what I originally came here for. It would make me much happier using this medium as ground for expressing what’s on my mind – including the views I’ve held on for several years.

—–

What was surprising was the dissenting assault that came from a mother in her early 30s, who not once did pay attention to my blog and who I tried to be nice to because, like me, she has had very few followers. Now I know she would dip her toes here – only if she could pounce on something and flex her belligerent disposition. The sharp sting in her particular post is in accordance with the sharp features of her face anyway. Methinks her reaction signifies her marriage sucks and there’s very little she can do about it. Absurd as it was, she even implicated my recent loss and family tragedy as instrumental to my post that dealt with my sensitive views about men and women. What’s the connection? Her comprehension must have gotten misplaced, most probably.

My message for you, married lady with kids: Since you’re younger than me (which translates to the reality I’ve learned nothing from your blog), and your English and writing competence not a bit impressive (to think that you are white), and you haven’t really said anything worthwhile on your site (it does little whether your name is Amy or Nasty btw), you are best advised to spew your vitriol here than doing it at “Your Place” as I don’t intend to click open your blog anymore. Rest assured, I’ll publish your comments and we can have an exchange of perspectives, if necessary.

—–

If there was any apology to be offered by me, it could only be for the one who served as the locomotive for my previous post. I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased if she knew the inspiration for that article germinated from reading her pages. My only point then was: if a beautiful, accomplished, well-experienced, talented, single woman would give that whole lot of unnecessary power to men over her life, what chance do average women like me have in gaining or maintaining some respect from the male readers of our blogging world? And where else could the rest of us find fitting role models who’d refuse to let men emotionally monopolize their lives? It’s crystal clear men have needed women more than women needed men, yet the majority of us gals, in comparison, are on emotional overkill just to earn the presence of some dude in our lives.

Maybe I had been guilty of the same deed, too. I couldn’t really tell. But I’m willing to mend my ways, if need be, and try harder to manage singlehood with more dignity. Maybe we could raise awareness for the benefit of the younger ladies who have every right to compel the guys in their lives to treat them better.

Prostitution, gender bias, and other discrimination issues have long been plaguing our role as the other half of humanity on this planet. Perhaps the least we could do is start shaping the minds of the younger generation that females are not as helpless, or dependent on male validation the way we always think we are.

There is hope for that, I believe.

Hunting For A Good Read

My favourite weekend activity for months now has been going online to see the latest word crafts from my choice bloggers. But since a dearly-followed blog went defunct and three of my favorite sites hardly release any posts, I have recently been on the hunt for new talents whose works I can subscribe to.

A blog pal made recommendations, but our age difference gets in the way of our preferences. What he finds interesting or meritorious often doesn’t strike my fancy, and vice versa. I finally decided to take in another co-blogger’s pick. This co-blogger of mine has a blog which has been frequented by some good WP scribblers. He is a first-class writer himself – so perhaps I should rely once more on his taste and take a peek on the female blogger he has openly raved about for months. Thus, I clicked open and started reading her stuff last weekend.

Let’s get to her skill first. I’m telling you, she’s slamminly good. Her first-rate writing ability is a rare find amidst the thousands of mediocre crafters (that include me) populating WordPress. She’s got the smarts. Her writing is fluid. She injects outstanding metaphors. Her stories are punchy or real funny. She provides excellent description in her narratives, too. She writes like a true pro (except for her punctuation). My co-blogger’s pick is something I concur with this time. More importantly, she’s my senior by more than a dozen years so I’m sure to learn a lot from her. She seems to be a remarkable woman I’ve become her new fan. And if she keeps bringing forth entries much like her previous ones, she has got to count me in as one of her followers. 

Through the links provided by my western FB acquaintances, I also discovered the very few prose written by Charles Warnke, a writer in his 20s with a darling face that matches his exquisite talent. He penned the contemporary cult “You Should Date an Illiterate Girl.” A two-page blog post that garnered both high praises and flak from nearly a thousand commenters. His harsh (or perhaps envious) critics branded his article as a mere pretentious outpouring of words. I beg to disagree. I don’t care about the number of modifiers or mind-bending vocabulary you sprinkled all over your prose as long as the piece – from start to finish – grabs me by the neck to carry me and hurl me through the interplay of stirring expressions and stylish grandeur. It was the brief excerpt from his soon-to-be-released book titled “Last Last and Last” that did just that for me. A bit terrifying, yet powerful and heart-breaking. A bang-up masterpiece. Find out for yourself.

November Babe Musings (Random Ruminations About Blogging and A Nondescript Existence)

Make no mistake. This seems to be the best time of my life, although nothing earth-shaking or exciting has been happening. I go to work on weekdays every morning. Go home at around 6pm. Read, eat, sleep, study, write. Very simple and quiet. It makes me wonder: how come I’m loving every minute of my present peaceful existence? Maybe I was meant to lead a run-of-the-mill life after all. To go through an average routine day in and day out. The kind I resisted in my younger years. I thought then fulfillment means seeking out what other people have. Heavy romance, material stuff, full schedule, night-outs with friends and flames. I thought having more people that constantly surround, recognize and validate me would make me feel better. That included working hard to keep my marriage afloat in order to maintain a stable family life. Yet during those periods when I was struggling to have it all, I was not happy and I felt miserable.

I could have grown plain tired of them all.

Or maybe, this certain “maturity” has given me a new appreciation for the things that truly matter.

Funny, falling in love with an illusion has become more appealing to me. A trick of the light so distant it’s beyond anyone’s grasp. If it breaks my heart, I figure, there will be fewer complications. Lesser damage, I suppose. And I get to go through crap which is unlike the ones I experienced in my past.

And maybe too, I am not making much sense at all.

There seems to be some paradox that exist within me these days. One undeniable paradox I’ve got to deal at this point: even though I seem to have finally found my balance, guilt creeps in everytime thoughts of someone dear to me – whose life is fast slipping away – come to mind. Everything is going well, yet the person who has been instrumental to my current equanimity will be leaving me for good anytime soon. An inescapable reality that at times leaves me in a bind. Complete utopia continues to elude me.

This blogging thing also feels like there’s a whole new world in here which I may never get to understand. I simply want to be myself and be able to express everything. As in everything that’s on my mind. But I’m afraid that’s not always possible. I have to keep on reminding myself there will always be people who won’t feel comfortable with my honesty and some of the things I’ve got to say. It might have been a principal reason why I’ve been passive in the two years this blog has been in existence. This medium I never intended for some particular ends. Certainly not to become popular, do business, start a romance, widen my network, or harbor any hidden agenda. As I’ve repeatedly said before, I just wanted to put my f%*#ing thoughts down.

But I’d hate to be misunderstood. Clicking Like and commenting on other blogs should be practised with more caution I guess. I like reading so much though – ditto for appreciating good prose and the writer’s corresponding prowess. You see, I take pleasure in reading – a thousand times more than writing itself.

Because of time constraints, I admit to regularly following only around three to four bloggers. I’m not the kind of person who needs an array of people to cheer me up. If something in my life works well, I tend to stick with it until the end of time. Same goes for food, jobs, friendships, hobbies, relationships, etc. The fewer the choices, the better for me. Why am I always guilt-stricken when I receive a Like from a co-blogger? For the reason that my present state of affairs can’t allow me to reciprocate or accommodate them all. Shame on me. I do hope to add more blogs in my Follow list as soon as more elements in my lifestyle permit me to.

There remain quite a few things I wish to write here. I’ve chickened out for some time because I’ve come to feel more shy. The fact that I am no angel, committed heavy mistakes in my past, and my life hasn’t been that phenomenal, I worried about what my fellow bloggers might think. It’s a cop out I know. I need to do what I’ve set out to do.

I remain in awe of this blogging world we hope to inhabit for eternity. But it seems both my heart and mind have a lot to learn still.

The woman you see and know here and whose words you read on the pages of this site is no different from the woman that I am at my side of the globe. If ever you find the fancy to offer a handshake, my sole request could only be: Do it warmly; make it every bit as true as the loyalty and friendship I’m willing to extend – in all sincerity. I won’t ask or need anything else from you, my fellow bloggers.

Just please don’t let me settle for less.

 

July Babe Rhetoric (Coming Up Against a Brick Wall)

The rains have kept on coming. The rains that have never failed to mesmerize me seem to be taking up residence on my side of the globe. Still, these are the raindrops that hold promise to heal and cleanse the afflictions of my soul.

As usual, I can’t let go of this month without unloading here some stuff I’ve been lugging around. Hence, my July Babe Musings, or rather my July Babe Rhetoric.

I erased another of my oldest post again after finding out there’s one who managed to excavate the oldest remaining entry that features a beach photo with my totally unmade up face, together with my so-so bucket list. It isn’t a good idea. Deleting post archives I mean. But I got self-conscious considering that my writing efforts then had been quite minimal too. In all honesty, I get this urge every now and then to eradicate all of my prior posts.

It’s getting uncomfortable to have to watch what I say here. There’s a big difference between knowing who your readers could be and writing with faceless unidentified readers in the back of your mind. Because there are days when I simply want to blurt “Oh f*#k!” instead of “Oh great!”

Yes Scarlet, it gets tiring to be the proverbial good girl all your life.

Perhaps it’s time for a confession once again. When I try to ponder and see things more clearly, I can’t help but realize how many areas in my life are actually unmanageable. Or aren’t working well. There’s been a leak on the ceiling again, my teenee apartment badly needs some spring cleaning, I’ve neglected applying eye cream for weeks now, the mirror keeps reminding me how time can ravage all things corporeal, I don’t visit my ailing father that often, I can’t spend quality time with my child as often as I want to, etc. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’ve been spreading myself too thin. And have I practically let the blogosphere eat away a sizable chunk of my time? Aaw, that’s excruciating to answer in light of the fact this special sphere has served me well as a welcome, intermittent release from my reality.

So what do I do?

Well, this is how I sail my ship to escape getting sucked into an abyss of the giant whirlpool. For the most part, I refuse to acknowledge the things that might assist on pulling me down. I mean matters that are beyond my control I do my best not to dwell on. It could have been a key element to my survival. It’s good that my job and other things mundane have been keeping me grounded for quite some time now. They’ve become a crucial force that shoves me to continue putting my one foot in front of the other.

Should I therefore strengthen the tenets that are meant to be held dear? I am not sure. The thing is, I’m just as uncertain and apprehensive of the present and the future as everybody else. I’ve still no possession of any magic formula for keeping afloat. Even with all the things I’ve learned, there are days when all I ever want is to curl up in bed, close my eyes, and sleep with the rays in the light of day.

People around me have been wondering if I’ve been keeping them away at arm’s length. It could have been a misconception on their part or they might be right to a certain point. Maybe I’m simply trying to home in on the things left that I want to do with my life. My time on this planet is getting shorter. I’m not a very sociable person as well. I tend to feel lonely in a large group. I thrive better in smaller groups. But the few people who managed to get close I have clutched dearly inside me. Sometimes to a fault.

My thoughts can’t help but fall hostage to my emotions. Passion has this power to consume my whole being, with a dash of drama magnifying on its own tailing behind. How many times have I released my heart out into the wild only for it to seek the path of least resistance to unmitigated rupture? How many times have I tempted fate by giving this heart away? What do I do when mellow sensibility refuses to go hand in hand with a reckless spirit? Call me quixotic, call me impetuous. I could have been misconstrued and deemed impractical. Or illogical even. Needless to say, I could act only within the vicinities where my affections reside. Never with an ax to grind.

People take for granted the opportunity to be able to float in the air of freedom, where everything feels light. A respectable degree of liberty from the leash of sentimental bonds can be soothing. I have always longed for that. Oftentimes I simply want to take on the spirit and essence of the quiet. Nothing to ruffle the calm.. in between states of mind..

But just when I think I’m ready to leap and swim my way in the sea of serenity, something will come up from behind to snatch me from my stance. Do they know I have been waiting for this shot in tranquility for a long time?

My autonomous veneer has served as a smokescreen for my bashful soul. What people don’t know about me is I crumble easily.., and in silence.., coz I’m such a baby when it comes to pain. Venturing into the meadows of uncertainty could as well only tighten the tethers that bind me to heartache. How can I possibly take back any scintilla of power that gets hurled out the window after my feelings have compelled me to follow their commands? How can I extricate myself sooner from the shackles of wretched emotions?

“How can I trust love again and again when most of what I’ve learned of it has only ever hurt me?” A rhetorical question that brings forth a cemented wisdom from one of my most favorite bloggers. He has always known how his sometimes unruly mind can generate words of beauty like sprinkles from the sky. His every sparkling word I yearn to catch with my bare hands. My brain which at times is in danger of short circuiting when I try to grasp out-of-this-world rhetoric rolling down the pages of his site. Nevertheless, he renders me breathless.. Or I just literally fall off my chair. Every time. In a league of his own, he could be one of the best kept secrets within the confines of WP. I hope he never gets to be Freshly Pressed. Because I don’t want to have to jostle my way to a crowd just to click Like on his post or make a comment. I know, I know. That’s a bit selfish on my part. But a touch of exclusivity has never lost its appeal to me.

And then, there is this other fellow.. This one who brightens me up with his grace, pragmatic intelligence and wit. I wonder if I’ve become a bundle of contradiction here once again. But oh, how I lie in glory with the feeling at times..

What do I do when I’m currently mooning over someone who also happens to be breaking my heart?

Go with the flow of inspiration I was once told.

So,

To my beloved Muse, You who helped me carve out my own truth. For you who could see past the secrets of my soul. In ether or on earth, my thoughts can only fly out to where you are..