I wrote this two years ago. Since then, we have a new addition to our family - my little shihtzu, Chewy and of course, my mum is no longer 47. I did not think to add some years to her age because 47 sounds better than 49 as is her current age.
*updated version
I'm ignorant and indolent,
And everyone knows that,
My mum claims she's my sister,
Even if she's 47,
My dad loves rocks and stones,
to the point of obsession,
My brother studies from day to night,
And comes home looking like a Zombie,
My dog's name is Rocky,
because my dad loves rocks,
My other dog is Joy,
as in Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy.
Now there's Chewy,
part Chewbacca, part ewok,
whom we all adore.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Why Mr. Cupid?
Cupid is ubiquitous. I see his usual red rosy cheeks, his mischievous blue eyes and the whitewashed toga that he seems to favor. He carries a gilded gold bow with detailed carvings that chronicle the fall of Troy and a quiver of arrows strapped to the small of his back. His natural curly blonde hair, iridescent even under a sunless sky, is one of his more sparkling features yet.
I love it when he smiles at his charges. He seems almost sublime then. When he looks at me, however, his expression changes. I suspect he does not like what he sees. Is my level of stubbornness etched so distinctively around my face that he should bequeath his not so favourable look; or is it because that there's no hope for me and it is only my personal interpretation that his countenance indicates distaste than the sympathy it is and I so detests.
I love it when he smiles at his charges. He seems almost sublime then. When he looks at me, however, his expression changes. I suspect he does not like what he sees. Is my level of stubbornness etched so distinctively around my face that he should bequeath his not so favourable look; or is it because that there's no hope for me and it is only my personal interpretation that his countenance indicates distaste than the sympathy it is and I so detests.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Entry ? - August 2012
Some say I am fussy when it comes to matters of men and women but I would like to think myself merely conscientious. I’m still whole of mind and as a girl of 21, I am inclined to postulate that my belief comes not from childish arrogance but a mature frame of mind.
Standards exist and are made so that one can measure oneself and those around accordingly. Oftentimes, I come across as snobbish based on my assumed single status whilst others would speculate on the absence of my personality.
I’m proud to say that none of the above would account for my reclusive nature and love for the solitary. It would be a lie, however, to say that I do not yearn for companionship as the world is made that way. I am no different from the damsels around me. I know love when I see one and I envy those who have it, though I am not given to fits of impulsiveness and the need to get a lover for appearance sake is something I’ll never resort to. I have no wish to rush into an undesirable relationship that would only bring heartbreak and pain. I would rather wait for my better half (how corny can I be?). This I speak not from prideful vanity but truthfulness and yearning of the soul.
I wish there was a sign that points to my nebulous future but where would the fun be if my future has already been laid out. Living would no longer be a challenge but a definite bore.
The short story below describes the aforementioned paragraph and summarizes my thoughts:
Once upon a time, there was a young, lovely girl with absinthe eyes and fiery red hair. The girl was crying by her mother’s gravestone when a scraggly old woman approached her.“ Oh, you poor thin’. A pretty lass like you should not look like death itself.”
The girl quickly dried her tears with the sleeve of her gown and silently stared at the apparition before her whom she assumed wanted to give comfort. She found herself softening a little, if not entirely. “ I thank you for your kind words but may I ask who you are and what you seek in so desolate a place?”
The old woman who stood paces away, hobbled closer on her wooden cane and smiled at the girl who has not moved an inch from her mother’s grave. “ I am called witch, healer and sage amongst other things but I go by the name of Wise Woman of Westwood.” The girl gave no sign of recognition, so the wise woman pressed on, “I am here to bestow you a gift of happiness and should you choose to accept it the choice is yours and yours alone.”
At that, the girl stood up and look into the intense gray of the wise woman’s eyes. “ What is it in for you as it is for me?” She folded her hand in front her and continued to appraise the lone figure.
“It is not in my place to tell you of the intricate nature of the universe but in time, you will unravel these mysteries. Even though I do not have the gift of foretelling, I am fortunately prescient enough to know that your road to happiness is a thorny and long one.” The girl flinched at her fortune being told by this wise woman but urged her to continue.
“I can lift your sorrows and give you happiness here and now but be forewarned that whatever given must be returned. You will lead a blissful and youthful life; and suffer when you become a gray-haired woman.” The wise woman paused to let her words sink in. “ So, have your pick. Would you care to go through another series of pain and heartbreak only to have your happily ever after towards the end of your life or enjoy the happiness I give you while you can and suffer in the aftermath.”
Everything was quiet save for her own uneven breathing and the wise woman’s. “ I choose,” she licked her cracked lips, “to pretend that this conversation never happened. I must decline your generous offer, even if this might be the grief that is speaking but I would rather create my own destiny than to leave it to the whims of fate and magic.” For a moment or two, the girl thought that she had offended the wise one. She studied the old woman but the woman’s expression did not alter.
When all of a sudden the wise woman burst out into gales of laughter, startling her. “So be it. I wish you a merry good luck then, for you’ll never see me again!” The old woman disappeared as instantaneous as she had appeared and the girl was once again alone.
As she was walking down the winding gravel path to the graveyard gates, she heard a soft whisper in the air. “ Let’s see you don’t regret it.” That was the last and only trace that the wise woman ever existed.
Standards exist and are made so that one can measure oneself and those around accordingly. Oftentimes, I come across as snobbish based on my assumed single status whilst others would speculate on the absence of my personality.
I’m proud to say that none of the above would account for my reclusive nature and love for the solitary. It would be a lie, however, to say that I do not yearn for companionship as the world is made that way. I am no different from the damsels around me. I know love when I see one and I envy those who have it, though I am not given to fits of impulsiveness and the need to get a lover for appearance sake is something I’ll never resort to. I have no wish to rush into an undesirable relationship that would only bring heartbreak and pain. I would rather wait for my better half (how corny can I be?). This I speak not from prideful vanity but truthfulness and yearning of the soul.
I wish there was a sign that points to my nebulous future but where would the fun be if my future has already been laid out. Living would no longer be a challenge but a definite bore.
The short story below describes the aforementioned paragraph and summarizes my thoughts:
Once upon a time, there was a young, lovely girl with absinthe eyes and fiery red hair. The girl was crying by her mother’s gravestone when a scraggly old woman approached her.“ Oh, you poor thin’. A pretty lass like you should not look like death itself.”
The girl quickly dried her tears with the sleeve of her gown and silently stared at the apparition before her whom she assumed wanted to give comfort. She found herself softening a little, if not entirely. “ I thank you for your kind words but may I ask who you are and what you seek in so desolate a place?”
The old woman who stood paces away, hobbled closer on her wooden cane and smiled at the girl who has not moved an inch from her mother’s grave. “ I am called witch, healer and sage amongst other things but I go by the name of Wise Woman of Westwood.” The girl gave no sign of recognition, so the wise woman pressed on, “I am here to bestow you a gift of happiness and should you choose to accept it the choice is yours and yours alone.”
At that, the girl stood up and look into the intense gray of the wise woman’s eyes. “ What is it in for you as it is for me?” She folded her hand in front her and continued to appraise the lone figure.
“It is not in my place to tell you of the intricate nature of the universe but in time, you will unravel these mysteries. Even though I do not have the gift of foretelling, I am fortunately prescient enough to know that your road to happiness is a thorny and long one.” The girl flinched at her fortune being told by this wise woman but urged her to continue.
“I can lift your sorrows and give you happiness here and now but be forewarned that whatever given must be returned. You will lead a blissful and youthful life; and suffer when you become a gray-haired woman.” The wise woman paused to let her words sink in. “ So, have your pick. Would you care to go through another series of pain and heartbreak only to have your happily ever after towards the end of your life or enjoy the happiness I give you while you can and suffer in the aftermath.”
Everything was quiet save for her own uneven breathing and the wise woman’s. “ I choose,” she licked her cracked lips, “to pretend that this conversation never happened. I must decline your generous offer, even if this might be the grief that is speaking but I would rather create my own destiny than to leave it to the whims of fate and magic.” For a moment or two, the girl thought that she had offended the wise one. She studied the old woman but the woman’s expression did not alter.
When all of a sudden the wise woman burst out into gales of laughter, startling her. “So be it. I wish you a merry good luck then, for you’ll never see me again!” The old woman disappeared as instantaneous as she had appeared and the girl was once again alone.
As she was walking down the winding gravel path to the graveyard gates, she heard a soft whisper in the air. “ Let’s see you don’t regret it.” That was the last and only trace that the wise woman ever existed.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
The journey a man has to undertake before proposing to his loved one
The first thing you have to do before proposing to your partner is to ruminate. You should take some time off to understand your feelings; whether they are still as strong and true as the first time you met her. This is of utmost importance because you must be able to comprehend how big of an issue this is. For example, the woman you are going to marry will become fat one day. Will you still love her even if she becomes all wrinkly and fat?
The next thing you have to do is to know who your future in laws are. If you have not fully ingratiate yourself thus far, now is the time to do it. Have a friendly talk with them. Talk to them about useless issues such as the weather and nothing about the engagement. If they do so much as to annoy your soul, run. You still have time to save your life because once your marry a woman, you are also marrying her family.
If all is good, proceed to the next step. Talk to your future best man; as of the moment, your buddy or brother or however you call it. Getting married is a huge thing; and you're bound to freak out every now and then. Consult your buddy if this should happen. If he gives you good advise such as 'you're just nervous because you're going to marry the woman you love,' - appoint him as your best man. If he says things that makes you ten times the nervous wreck you already are – bash him up but still keep him around because he still has his uses.
Next, run to a store and get her an engagement ring. Especially one that is sparkly enough to make her go ga-ga. One of the similarities between women and fish is that they both love shiny objects. So, use this as reference when choosing her ring. Above all, just make sure that the ring fits her finger or everything will be for naught.
After doing the aforementioned and if you are still sure of yourself, plan a romantic getaway that would blow her mind. Take her to the movies or do anything that she likes. End your day by taking her to a fancy fine-dining restaurant that has exquisite food, a romantic ambiance and beautiful music wafting in the air. If it is possible – though everything is possible if you have money – have the pianist play her favourite song on the piano. Even the most grouchy woman has a favourite song.
Last but not least, when all your hopes and dreams are about to become reality, do your thing. Serenade her, recite some romantic poems by Pablo Neruda. As your grande finale, get down on your knees and propose to her. By following these steps, you're sure to become an engaged man by the end of the day. That is, if all goes well and if the woman you're proposing to loves you as much as you her.
The next thing you have to do is to know who your future in laws are. If you have not fully ingratiate yourself thus far, now is the time to do it. Have a friendly talk with them. Talk to them about useless issues such as the weather and nothing about the engagement. If they do so much as to annoy your soul, run. You still have time to save your life because once your marry a woman, you are also marrying her family.
If all is good, proceed to the next step. Talk to your future best man; as of the moment, your buddy or brother or however you call it. Getting married is a huge thing; and you're bound to freak out every now and then. Consult your buddy if this should happen. If he gives you good advise such as 'you're just nervous because you're going to marry the woman you love,' - appoint him as your best man. If he says things that makes you ten times the nervous wreck you already are – bash him up but still keep him around because he still has his uses.
Next, run to a store and get her an engagement ring. Especially one that is sparkly enough to make her go ga-ga. One of the similarities between women and fish is that they both love shiny objects. So, use this as reference when choosing her ring. Above all, just make sure that the ring fits her finger or everything will be for naught.
After doing the aforementioned and if you are still sure of yourself, plan a romantic getaway that would blow her mind. Take her to the movies or do anything that she likes. End your day by taking her to a fancy fine-dining restaurant that has exquisite food, a romantic ambiance and beautiful music wafting in the air. If it is possible – though everything is possible if you have money – have the pianist play her favourite song on the piano. Even the most grouchy woman has a favourite song.
Last but not least, when all your hopes and dreams are about to become reality, do your thing. Serenade her, recite some romantic poems by Pablo Neruda. As your grande finale, get down on your knees and propose to her. By following these steps, you're sure to become an engaged man by the end of the day. That is, if all goes well and if the woman you're proposing to loves you as much as you her.
Monday, March 12, 2012
My understanding of honor
Honor or honoris in Latin is an abstract concept that contains fairness, respect and integrity. A person is labeled honorable when he or she adheres to the above qualities or if that particular individual follows a specific code of honor.
The first thing that comes to mind in regards to honor is Hector of Troy. Hector, not surprising, is also named one of the nine worthies together with Alexander the Great and King Arthur. Nine worthies or nine valiants consist of nine very extraordinary individuals. A title given solely to personages who embodies gallantry and courage. These individuals may not be a prince by birth but they are all indubitably 'princes' in their own right despite their circumstances.
Hector is the first-born son of King Priam and Queen Hecuba; and husband to the red-headed Andromache. He is also the strongest man in Troy. Given his position as heir apparent to the throne and a favourite of the king and queen, he is still one of the most down to earth man according to Homer's Illiad or any other sources. Whilst Achilles fights for honor and his reputation, Hector fights for the people of Troy. He is not regarded as one of the Nine worthies only because of his noble and courtly manner but in part of his peace-loving nature and overall character. He is a veritable paragon of heroism and modesty.
It is easy to define honor in bygone stories as opposed to the difficult task of applying honor to modern day folks. The world has certainly evolved into a technological-governed one. People have become more individualistic and materialistic; and that such honorable and honest to do attitude are long-forgotten.
A code of honor differs from a legal code. It is usually measured through a person's conscience rather than the eyes of a certain community. How often do we see such practiced code of honor?
As much as I hate to admit it, it is considerably easier to relate honor to myth and fiction instead of associating it to people of today's generation.
The first thing that comes to mind in regards to honor is Hector of Troy. Hector, not surprising, is also named one of the nine worthies together with Alexander the Great and King Arthur. Nine worthies or nine valiants consist of nine very extraordinary individuals. A title given solely to personages who embodies gallantry and courage. These individuals may not be a prince by birth but they are all indubitably 'princes' in their own right despite their circumstances.
Hector is the first-born son of King Priam and Queen Hecuba; and husband to the red-headed Andromache. He is also the strongest man in Troy. Given his position as heir apparent to the throne and a favourite of the king and queen, he is still one of the most down to earth man according to Homer's Illiad or any other sources. Whilst Achilles fights for honor and his reputation, Hector fights for the people of Troy. He is not regarded as one of the Nine worthies only because of his noble and courtly manner but in part of his peace-loving nature and overall character. He is a veritable paragon of heroism and modesty.
It is easy to define honor in bygone stories as opposed to the difficult task of applying honor to modern day folks. The world has certainly evolved into a technological-governed one. People have become more individualistic and materialistic; and that such honorable and honest to do attitude are long-forgotten.
A code of honor differs from a legal code. It is usually measured through a person's conscience rather than the eyes of a certain community. How often do we see such practiced code of honor?
As much as I hate to admit it, it is considerably easier to relate honor to myth and fiction instead of associating it to people of today's generation.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
The Chatelaine - Part 3
“In the beginning, there was nothing but an inhabited piece of land created by the whim of Lyra - the Goddess of Evermore. This was further enhanced with the addition of two different entities called the Humans and the Forest Dwellers to the equation. Whilst intrigued by her new toy, Lyra was also indifferent to it and was convinced that the land called Filra should be left to fend off on its own.
For thousands of years, both races co-existed and everyone was happy with the concord they saw. Until that very day, when fear clawed their hearts and soul ensnared by envy. Afraid of the Forest Dweller's superior ability, the Human race chose to massacre every single one of them...”
Some thought that the extermination of the Forest Dwellers was unjustified but Minerva knew and understood it all. No doubt, the Forest Dwellers are gentle by nature and a friendly bunch. But when tempted by the whispering evil forces of the land; they become an unmitigated terror.
Lured into the dark night, Minerva stood concealed in the hide of the gorse bushes. She had been stalking the two men, or as she puts it trailing them since they left the protective barrier of Lycon village. According to her parchments, Lycon is said to be one of the most well-received countries in all the land. Rich, in resources; and vestiges of the past, it had caught the attentions of intrepid travelers and ardent merchants alike.
The sun had long ago descended below the horizon and the two men she observed were fast asleep by the warmth of the fire. Minerva was wondering why had she tried so hard to hide. For what purpose? She followed them, only because she had wanted to talk to them. But after a few hours of relentless pursuit and almost completely losing sight of them a couple of times, she realized that she did not know how to approach them. So the battle of hiding ensued – with her on the losing side.
“A definite idiot, I tell you,” Shane said, emphasizing on the idiot.
Christian and Shane were both cognizant of the fact that they were being followed by a not-so-skilled stalker or whatever you call it; since the start of their tedious journey. Recognizing that there was no ill intent from her, they just let her be. And here they are; sleeping under the blanket of irradiating stars, with a stalker at their backs.
“Well, from the looks of it, she can't be more than 16,” Christian said, just loud enough for Shane to hear, for his bedroll was laid a couple of meters away from his.
“What's that got to do with her age?”
“Everything.”
Speechless, Shane just threw Christian a disdainful look.
“What?” Christian replied.
“Has anyone ever told you that you're gross?”
“Not since my little meeting with the old man yesterday,” Christian grinned.
For thousands of years, both races co-existed and everyone was happy with the concord they saw. Until that very day, when fear clawed their hearts and soul ensnared by envy. Afraid of the Forest Dweller's superior ability, the Human race chose to massacre every single one of them...”
Some thought that the extermination of the Forest Dwellers was unjustified but Minerva knew and understood it all. No doubt, the Forest Dwellers are gentle by nature and a friendly bunch. But when tempted by the whispering evil forces of the land; they become an unmitigated terror.
Lured into the dark night, Minerva stood concealed in the hide of the gorse bushes. She had been stalking the two men, or as she puts it trailing them since they left the protective barrier of Lycon village. According to her parchments, Lycon is said to be one of the most well-received countries in all the land. Rich, in resources; and vestiges of the past, it had caught the attentions of intrepid travelers and ardent merchants alike.
The sun had long ago descended below the horizon and the two men she observed were fast asleep by the warmth of the fire. Minerva was wondering why had she tried so hard to hide. For what purpose? She followed them, only because she had wanted to talk to them. But after a few hours of relentless pursuit and almost completely losing sight of them a couple of times, she realized that she did not know how to approach them. So the battle of hiding ensued – with her on the losing side.
“A definite idiot, I tell you,” Shane said, emphasizing on the idiot.
Christian and Shane were both cognizant of the fact that they were being followed by a not-so-skilled stalker or whatever you call it; since the start of their tedious journey. Recognizing that there was no ill intent from her, they just let her be. And here they are; sleeping under the blanket of irradiating stars, with a stalker at their backs.
“Well, from the looks of it, she can't be more than 16,” Christian said, just loud enough for Shane to hear, for his bedroll was laid a couple of meters away from his.
“What's that got to do with her age?”
“Everything.”
Speechless, Shane just threw Christian a disdainful look.
“What?” Christian replied.
“Has anyone ever told you that you're gross?”
“Not since my little meeting with the old man yesterday,” Christian grinned.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Heartache
It hurts.
These feelings,
I do not want them,
I do not need them,
I've never asked for any of this,
So how did it happen?
The monotonous days continues,
The perpetual pain ensues,
This neverending cycle
remains the same.
Was the sky this bleak,
Was the thunderous sounds ever this loud,
Was my heart this fragile,
Like a dew in the night,
I sparkle only
when the fleeting light shines my way.
I shut my mind to such thoughts,
I shield my heart from the pain,
I turned my back on the memories,
These useless emotions,
I should have tossed them aside
ages ago.
These feelings,
I do not want them,
I do not need them,
I've never asked for any of this,
So how did it happen?
The monotonous days continues,
The perpetual pain ensues,
This neverending cycle
remains the same.
Was the sky this bleak,
Was the thunderous sounds ever this loud,
Was my heart this fragile,
Like a dew in the night,
I sparkle only
when the fleeting light shines my way.
I shut my mind to such thoughts,
I shield my heart from the pain,
I turned my back on the memories,
These useless emotions,
I should have tossed them aside
ages ago.
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