Father and Son

I did it. I told them what I really wanted.

January 30, 2012. Today is my dad's birthday. After my last class for this evening, I managed to make my way as fast as I can to catch my family having dinner in a local restaurant. I did bring my gift for him in which I bought last night when I was strolling down in a mall. It was a shirt. A simple one. I bet he knows for sure that for the both of his sons, I would be the one giving him such gift. Nope, not "the one". The "only one".

We ate and discussed matters about our work, and our family, of course. Some future travels (*crosses fingers*) were proposed and I am too excited about it. Why, who shouldn't?

And then I spoke with all their eyes beaming on me. The moment I've been waiting for.

"I'm gonna quit these two jobs I have", I calmly said. They all observed me. I reason them as soon as I noticed my dad reloading his argument gun. I do love my father. And with his plan that he wanted me to be someone that I don't want to is really depressing. It's not all about the money, and it's not my career. It's about me. 

I want to grow and be part of the world I dreamed of. To expand my boundaries, to test my limit. To meet new people, and to know other things. Like a little bird, I want to fly high and see the beauty of the earth with my own eyes. My own abilities. Myself. 

Trust me, dad. Trust me. I may not be as great as you but I can be the man I truly am. 

Happy birthday. 

(LSS) Change the world

Who the heck is Eric Clapton?? I dunno. But after listening to this wonderful song as I travel my way to the office, I can't help but to sing. As I open my lips to mouth *change the world* in the chorus, it's as if I'm gonna spend a long vacation all by myself or with someone else. Or to ride an airplane as we ascend and watch the earth below us. Then came the realization that this song, his song? It's music.

Who the heck is Eric Clapton? I dunno...but he's a freaking genius. 

Come on. Let us sing to all our heart's content! 

5-minute reading

"Seeker"

An old man walks up to the front of the store and opens the glass door. The bell rings and he gazes upon the tall book shelves that tower over him. His eyes are not good back when he was twenty-one  but he knows for sure that he can venture inside this unknown shop unassisted.

He stops surprisingly, moves his head to the right and finds it: a diary. The old man smiles as he grab the journal and make his way to the counter. A young lady takes it and scans the diary's bar code. She then confesses to the old man, "I never knew we sell diaries here like this one." The lady turns a page after page of the note, pauses, and eventually closes it. "Like filled-up diaries", she adds. 

The old man pays for it and the lady puts the diary inside a small paper bag. He thanks the young miss and walks to the exit. As the mysterious old man turns the doorknob, he finally says, "She looks just like you...but only speaks of a different answer." 

The young lady doubts if the old shopper asked her a question but she's definitely right, he never asked her of anything. 

And then the old man breaks his silence and said, "She told me that she did not see anything in this diary except for her name. That she wanted to write her own destiny and not be controlled by some invisible mover. That someday, in some alternate world if there is, our fate is not governed by laws and principles which are made by false gods. That our lives are endless in order for us to write another page."

With the diary in his satchel, the old man exits the store and feels the breeze of the summer air. 

Move on

Okay, I'm tired. I totally revamped my blog and forgot all my priorities in my workplace. Time flies so fast when one's enjoying. Yep, I did make the most out of it by fixing my personal space even if I ran out of time to add a few more widgets and tools. Come to think of it, three months of hiatus in blogging was a long time. Some of the blogs I follow drastically changed, having dozens of new and fresh entries since I decided to lie low and focus on working. A few -- how should I say this? -- retired. That's a bit of sad on my part because when I started doing this kind of hobby, they were there. I guess they moved on with their lives and tried other things. Perhaps new things like baseball. Just kidding.

As for me, I think I should do the same kind of thing: to move on. To try other things out there. Maybe to have an ice cream on a bread. To swim. To climb a mountain (Huh? Can I do that?). To catch a fish. To bungee jump. Or to join a marathon. So many things yet so little time. But fear I must not. Living a day like it is your last can make a difference. Yes it can. 

New look

Still constructing my blog as of this moment.

I kinda like this new look. How about you? :)

Light Post

"Light Post"

Grab this tiny palm,

With all you can bear;

Sing my advent psalm,

To light you somewhere.

Firefly, lead her please,

Connect my old root;

Gently as a kiss,

My forbidden fruit.

Speak up lil' lady,
"Is this the way home?"
Know it's uncanny,
'Tis not in your tome.


Time pass by like rain,
But here I shall stay;
Like a paper crane,
Made by their own way.

The cat from hell

I just woke up from a crazy and half-remembered dream. A dream of a cat. But not just any ordinary cat, it's a talking cat!

In my dream, he approached me and spoke. The voice sounded familiar but I cannot remember who or what it sounded like. The furry beast just spoke and told me the people he killed. It's as if the goddamn "meow-meow" is inventorying his murder list. That thing made me sick. 

Of course I tried to recall the names mentioned  by the cat in my dreams. No single name came out from my head. All I remember is the depiction of him, seating beside me, looking directly to me, and saying those forgettable names. 

Creepy.

----
EDIT: Cats appearing in a dream symbolizes being independent, having strong ideas about how things should be.

This is particularly true about me. My ideas are like cancer to me and with them, I tend to be perfectionist of almost anything. Lessening this trait would be a good start. :)

When a joker stopped joking

It's been a while since I last wrote here. I feel ashamed of myself. Jeez...

I've been in some countless workloads for these past few months and from the way I see it -- the bitterness of reality -- has only just begun. There are many bumps along these days that affected me so much causing my health to deteriorate bit my bit. I often ask myself, "How far will you go, master? How far?" And with a sigh, I simply hide my winter-y eyes and have an escape in the form of silence. 

My colleagues knew that I always kid around. Say funny things like this. Have an amusing look at that. Make a comic remark hidden in an insult. And smile like there's no tomorrow. Of course I do those things to hide my stress. To suppress my melancholic personality. 

When was the last time I read a fiction book? I don't know. When was the last time I date myself? I don't know either. It's as if the universe conspires with Sisters of Fate disallowing me to have my own free time to do the things I do best.

Anyhow, the die is cast and I have no doubt to go back to whoever I was before. The funny thing is despite the fact I now have my own workplace, I travel a lot (like 40-50 kilometers a day) making the long highway my second home. The only thing that's left for me to bring during that everyday venture is a huge pillow and a white blanket. Yeah, I know it sucks.

But here's the deal, I'm gonna quit one of my jobs this coming April. The reason? The job takes me for granted -- abusing my kindness knowing that getting 'angry' is not in my long list of words. 

Maybe I'll start studying again. Reading law books this time. And to emancipate myself the trouble I had in the undergrad. 

Here I go.