I feel so confused. It seems like my future is so uncertain. Right now, I have several options. I can look for practicum work here in France for 6 months or more, but I would have to go back first to the Philippines to apply for a new kind of visa. It would be great of course, to see all my friends and family again but it would be expensive. Or I could go and study for another semester in ESSCA Hungary, but the monthly allowance would have to come from my parents. Or I could just go back to the Philippines and look for work there. But recently, I found out that our petition for immigration to the States has been approved. My family is planning to transfer there by June next year or so. My status is not yet sure because I am already past 21 years or age but my uncle is trying to find a way for me.
The big question is: What do I really want? I guess I would have to think hard. Each option has its own bright and not-so-bright aspects. Haayyy.. I really do not know. We shall have to see. Sometimes it can become overwhelming thinking of all these things. But in a way, I am glad. At least I am given options. It does make me wonder, which is more difficult: to have more or less options?
It is difficult to write about someone you know so intimately, a person you love dearly because precisely you lose that certain objectivity that is necessary, or else this may very well become a eulogy. But nevertheless, in a way, I owe it to her. She is my sister, I am her brother, an honor that no one else will ever have.
I have always believed that we share something magical. In this world of dizzying speed and new discoveries, it still is remarkable how at the end of the day we still look for some warmth, some comfort, and yes ... a bit of love and affection.
My sister has always been a source of all that to people. She is patient with people, taking care to consider their needs above hers. I can see it in the way she talks to her friends, and most especially to our Titas and Titos. I can see the way they like talking to her, and she is always ready with a story or two to make them laugh.
Last Saturday, October 20, I went on a trip to discover the Aquitanine region of France. It was for around 6 days and it was simply amazing. France is really a beautiful place, every village and city has its own particular charm.
But that was not really my original plan. I thought that I was going to meet Neil in Paris for 2 days or so, because he would be back in London by then and have some time for that. But well, he decided not to go. It came really as a shock because I had alaways believed that he would find a way, and I guess what hurts is that I knew he could have come. he just chose not to. I felt so bad, i even pleaded with him. I told him I will never ask anything of him again, just go this once. And to top that, while I was in Bordeaux, I decided to call him because, despite everything, I did want to talk to him before he went home. But he ignored my texts (I texted him twice) and I even called him. Oh well.. i really feel sad..
But the trip was immensely satisfying. Hahhahaa... i had a lot of misadventures along the way. To start it off, i took the wrong tain from Angers. Instead of Landing in Tours, I landed in Nantes. I remember I was very very wottied then because there might not be a train to Bordeaux, but luckily there was one but it would be at 6:30. I had about 3 hours so I decided to go around. I went inside the Chateau and the Cathedral.
It was a sacrilege, they cried
The way she shattered every mullioned pane
To let a firebrand in. They tried in vain
To understand how one so carved from pride
And glassed in dream could have so flung aside
Her groven days, or why she dared profane
The bread and wine of life for some insane
Moment with him. The scandal never died.
But no one guessed that loveliness would claim
Her soul's cathedral burned by his desires
Or that he left her aureoled in flame...
And seeing nothing but her blackened spires,
The town condemened this girl who loved too well
and found her heaven in the depths of hell.
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
-----Gerard Manley Hopkins, "Spring and Fall to a Young Child"
But because to be here
means so very much.
Because this fleeting sphere
appears to need us-
in some strange way
concerns us: we...
most fleeting of all.
Once and once only for
each thing-then no more.
For us as well. Once.
Then no more... ever.
But to have been as one,
though but the once,
with this world,
never can be undone.
-----from the "The Ninth Duino Elegy", Rainer Maria Rilke
You knew an instant of pain or joy or love or desire and you were never the same again because the darkness inside yourself had known so much brief illumination. And at the end of it all, what? A gentle discernment, a manner of soft speech and belief, belief...
The joys of Sunday seemed far away now. The licit sounds of happiness had slid past her. She had loved Domingo Gorrez with everything that she had been but they had been careless, and one paid for carelessness like this --- sipping coffee in exile, vulnerable and tremulous, because, in this wayward inn, someone had said a warm and tender thing.
-----"The Sounds of Sunday", Kerima Polotan-Tuvera
I go a spell on my heart for ya
Wishin' on a little star for ya
Kinda magic in everything we do
Running circles round the moon
Live and I'd die for ya
Get a little bit high for ya
Forever couldn't come too soon
Running circles round the moon
I'm moving over, you're gettin closer
Heaven is in your eyes, ooohh
Mystical wonder, flowing into our lives
Spirits are waking, to the love that we're makin'
Angels are on our side
Watching and waiting, catching the joy we cry
Out of my mind
Chasin circles of love, but I find
It's always you
There is something about singing under a mirror ball when it's going and the lights are down and that thing's moving on its axis, shining up the world in its kind of Coca-Cola moment kind of way. I don't know, it's really romantic and it's rock 'n' roll, it's glam, it's all those amazing things that I think about when I think about music and the lifestyle...
---Sarah McLachlan, interview on her album Mirrorball
I like stories. Whether they're of random strangers or close friends, people's stories hold me spellbound.
Every story leads us to an insight: Who are we? Why do we do the things we do? Why are we here, and not there?
Email me: firstname.lastname@example.org
Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress Susan Jane Gilman
In her memoir, Susan Jane talked about growing up uncool as a white kid in a tough Puerto Rican neighborhood, dreaming to be a ballerina, chasing after rock stars, having sex for the very first time.
She brings us back to the best (and the worst) parts of our childhood and our youth, helping us realize things are never as good (or as bad) as we remember them to be.
For Emma, Forever Ago Bon Hiver
Justin Veron, also known as Bon Iver, spent four months alone in a log cabin in the mountains of Wisconsin after the break-up of his band, DeYarmond Edison in 2006.
"The name refers to someone in my past, and it's not her real name," Veron said in an interview about the title of his album. "The dedication is not just to her, it's about the end of an entire era. The entire context of my life at that time was tied to this person, and this record is a way for me to flee from this thing."
For Emma captures the sound of broken and quiet isolation, wraps it in a beautiful package, and delivers it to your door with a beating, bruised heart.