Today was Tita Cha's birthday. We had lunch at Alba's. The food was delicious. yumm.. i loved their duck in orange sauce. As we chatted, I realized that life must be lonely for her, with her brother and sister living far away. She feels alone and sometimes feels that they have abandoned her.
I asked her what her plans are for the future and she replied, "Ewan. Bahala na."
I can not imagine not having any plans for the future, living your life as if you're waiting for your death.
sigh. i try in my own way to make her a little happier, except that sometimes i feel that she's centering her life too much on me. oh well ... we'll figure out something.
I was reading the Philippine Graphic and I liked an article written by F. Sionil Jose, about writing. It was mainly focused on writing at a time when times are difficult ... I have pasted below some parts which i really like.
"what is literature if not pain remembered? and in remembering, we adorn it with our imagination, our craftmanship and ennoble it perhaps, imbueing it with permanency. It becomes a testament of your humanity for the world to read, and in doing so hope to instill in them compassion, that which draws all men together."
"that profound melancholy.. no matter how effulgent our fiestas and how bright our smiles.
I am sleepy now. good night
My Cultural Standards for Fiction
6 hours ago