Much of muchness

Is that all you can say?

Bagong Pelikula ...

Akitin mo ako!

Bliss

Bliss: waking up to his whiskers brushing against my cheek.

Postcards from Italy - Beirut

Ah, such a grand song. Makes me think of good friends far away and not so far away. When will I go to Italy and the other countries touching the Mediterranean Sea. Only time will tell. The adventure continues.

1963 - Rachael Yamagata

One of my favorite songs! Well I really like Rachael's bangs and I even tried to sport it a few months ago. The video is nice too, shot using a 35mm camera I think. Made me think of Arturo, an 11-year-old aspiring director. I really hope he discovers this kind of camera and make really nice videos one day.

How to put a playlist on your blog site.

1. Create an account in playlist [dot]com
   
2. Create a playlist there by adding songs on your list. Make sure you have clever playlist name.
3. When you are done with your playlist, click “add your Playlist to Myspace or Facebook”
4. Choose option E and your playlist.
5. Then click “get code”
6. Go to your Blogger account and sign in.
7. Edit your Layout
8. Create a new widget
9. Choose an HTML JavaScript kind of widget
10. Copy the code from playlist.com
11. Paste it to the big space on that widget.

In seeking knowledge, the first step is silence, the second listening, the third remembering, the fourth practicing, and the fifth -- teaching others.

-Solomon Ibn Gabirol

I carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

*********

Ah, exquisite! I find myself liking poetry even more these days. Maybe it's the advancing age which was so bluntly revealed by Sunny, or maybe I have started to appreciate and understand quite a few things that used to scare me.
I saw this poem at www.jeanettewinterson.com, Jeanette Winterson being one of my favorite authors. I've been stalking her through her website lately, I hope she doesn't issue a restraining order just yet.

Will you walk beside me?

She’s been my friend for most of my life; we met when we were both 12 navigating our way through puberty and adolescence. I met her in class; her cheerful and friendly nature seduced me to want to be with her.
I must have written two or three essays about her. All praising her for saving me from the abyss and being that one person I can turn to for comfort and understanding. She is the one person who understands how hard it is for me to exist even though I hide behind a façade of strength.
The past few months though, I admit I’ve been impatient and because I wanted more. I wanted to live out of my head for once and free myself from the seclusion. In my muddled way of thinking, I contemplated on leaving her.
The lines from a declamatory piece resonated in my head. Time interwove us like two fibers; if one must die then the other would disintegrate to nothingness. I depended on her for my own survival.
Yet I also feel that we are a crossroad. We must chose a path and the way I see it, either part ways or bring each other out of a miserable experience bound tightly by the circumstances of our birth. The third option is to spiral uncontrollably to our destruction.
If I were to choose I’ll take the option of getting out of this rut together. It’s a terrifying ride but it could be comforting to have someone beside you.

Make your wave or bend

I didn’t realize how dependent I was with microwave ovens until the one here at the apartment broke down. I didn’t know how or why, since I am not here in the weekends. I put a cup of water on the rotating dish, and waited for the number 1:00 to register as I pressed the numbers. I pulled the plug and plugged it back in but still it nothing. It was like it just died a quiet death which forced me to use the stove top once again.
Microwave ovens, during my younger days, were an appliance for the rich or well off. I didn’t use one until I came to the United States. I remember the first time I used one was to heat up rice for dinner with my father and brother. Since then it’s been the staple kitchen and home dining implement in my household. Now it is as if I can’t eat at home without it. The demise of such an appliance in my adult life drew me to contemplate on how my life has changed in the past 10 years.
For instance, I’ve realized I haven’t cooked a full meal in almost a year. It’s not uncommon of course, but my upbringing makes me feel bashful about this. Using the microwave to heat up my everyday food is something college students straight out of high school does; not a grown woman.
This made me wonder why I haven’t cooked for so long. My answer to that is this: cooking, the way I see it, is a communal and social activity. One always should cook for other people as well as for one’s self. My parents, when I stay with them, insist on cooking. When I am here at the apartment alone, it seems like a waste to cook when I am not sure if others will eat the food as well. Often too, I come home and see food in the fridge, ready and begging to be heated in the microwave oven.
Now the microwave is dead. I wonder what I will do for tea tomorrow morning. I can heat up water on the stove, but it will be different. I’ve depended so much on the microwave that I have to make all these adjustments. I can do this! I can survive without a microwave oven, I’ve eaten many meals at home in the Philippines without it. Yet I am not quite convinced. I am still in the state of disequilibrium.
The microwave oven is a symbol that divided my childhood from adulthood. It is can be taken as a sign of progress or conformity, sometimes even laziness which ever way one might see things. The realization that I am indeed dependent on the microwave oven for my survival is disconcerting and a way to remind myself to be more flexible in the face of the changing times. Cooking more and giving it away may not be such a bad idea after all.