Finding James
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"Laughing is a form of crying"...Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate

Four days without work, no emails to answer, no deadlines to beat and no pressure to pick out the best matching outfit from my closet with half-closed eyelids.

To say that I went on a sabbatical during the long weekend would be a little too much coz I was up and about the whole time. But the reprieve did my soul good, and I came back to my apartment last night  dead tired from the trip but thorougly re-charged and fully rested.

I've managed to read "The Good Earth" and "Unbearable Lightness of Being", re-watch "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory", "Constantine" and "Kill Bill" with my kid brother; and, redecorate the family living room with a new centerpiece (very Zen, but also very costly! Arrgh).

Saturday was special. For the longest time I had been meaning to touch base with old friends, and was finally able to see one whom I've always loved deeply---my Kuya Ronald.

Allow me to describe him from memory: tall, skinny, bespectacled, with a head full of jet-black hair, pale white skin and a squeaky voice. *laughing* I know I soud like I'm describing a teenager. But that' s because my recollections of Ronald come from way back our high school days. We've lost touch in college and barely managed to feel each other's presence in the years that followed.

Too good that he was curious enough to read my blog entries here, it got him to ask me to meet up and catch up. Basically, both of us haven't changed. We're still the same kids who tease each other incessantly, laugh at each other's antics, ride the same train of thought and finish each other's sentences. We're both coffee addicts and permament fixtures at coffee shops who never learned to smoke properly...

But there were  differences that I've noticed. Behind the laughter and the funny anecdotes culled from cobweb-filled closets was a bitter smile that no amount of mocha could cover up. Perhaps, its an accumulation of winces from walking down life's highway on barefoot; an amalgamation of scars gleaned from tasting reality's knuckles one too many times.

If only we never had to grow up, life wouldn't be this confusing. Moreso, if people cared more about others than themselves, we wouldn't all be spending our lives drifting between superficiality and artificiality in the pursuit of ever-elusive affirmation.

One day soon you'll find who you are...not the person you've dreamed up to be, but the person you were meant to become--- stripped of all layers of insecurities and make-believe skins. And when you get to your core you won't ever have to pretend.

James will be there...I promise you that.

Angel's LSS: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman
24/7 Reading List: Like Water for Chocolate
Silverscreen Pick: My boss' back
Differential Diagnosis: happy

Chicken Soup:
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     During my daily rounds at the hospital, I came across a room where I could immediately tell by looking through the glass doorway that the man inside, though his back was to me, was visibly disturbed.  He was anxiously sitting up on the far side of the bed with his feet hanging off while he pulled repeatedly at the unkempt sheets.

     Knocking on the door frame, I announced myself: "Hello, I'm Chaplain Jon.  Is everything all right in here?"

     Pointing to the wall at the foot of the bed, the man replied, "No, there is a crucifix."  I sighed as I examined the wall, knowing full well what was there, and I quickly looked at my census list to verify the patient information and faith tradition.  I found the room number and the only word I needed to see: Hindu.

     As a Protestant chaplain serving at a Catholic hospital in the multicultural and interfaith environment of Los Angeles, it was not infrequent for me to find patients perturbed by the presence of a crucifix on their wall.  Trying to be diplomatic and defuse the situation, I explained, "If you are offended by the crucifix, I can make arrangements for it to be removed during your stay here." 

     The truth, more accurately, is that some of the more zealous of the Catholic faith had learned of this practice of accommodating people of other faith traditions, and had most of the crucifixes permanently installed on the wall, so the best effort to accommodate patients often was to drape a cloth over the offending relic.

     The Hindu patient left me dumbfounded by what he told me next.  Turning more toward me and pulling one knee onto the bed, his face wrinkling from being misunderstood, he explained, "I am not offended by the crucifix.  I am disturbed that it is at the foot of my bed, which is a place of dishonor in my culture.  Every time I lie down, I feel as if I am disrespecting the God of this hospital."

     The teacher had just become the student.  I was overwhelmed with how much respect this man had for a faith not his own.  I couldn't help but think that I had just glimpsed a nugget of human unity whose offspring surely is peace.

Song of the Week:
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Don't Cha - Pussy Cat Dolls
(feat. Busta Rhymes)

Baby
Dolls
Fellas
Are you ready?
Lets dance
Baby (ooooh)

I know you like me (I know you like me)
I know you do (I know you do)
Thats why whenever I come around
She's all over you (she's all over you)
I know you want it (I know you want it)
It's easy to see (it's easy to see)
And in the back of your mind
I know you should be fu**ing me (babe)

[refrain:]
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha

Fight the feeling (fight the feeling)
Leave it alone (leave it alone)
Cause if it ain't love
It just aint enough to leave my happy home (my happy home)
Let's keep it friendly (let's keep it friendly)
You have to play fair (you have to play fair)
See I dont care
But I know She ain't gonna wanna share

[refrain:]
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha

I know I'm on your mind
I know we'd have a good time
I'm your friend
I'm fun
And I'm fine
I aint lying
Look at me shine
You aint blind (you aint blind)
I know I'm on your mind
I know we'd have a good time
I'm your friend
I'm fun
And I'm fine
I aint lying
Look at me shine
You aint blind

I know she loves you (I know she loves you)
So I understand (I understand)
I probably be just as crazy about you
If you were my own man
Maybe next lifetime (maybe next lifetime)
Possibly (possibly)
Until then old friend your secret
Is safe with me

[refrain:]
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha

 

Road Work
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"Out of the silver heat mirage he ran.  The sky burned, and under him the paving was a black mirror reflecting sun-fire.  Sweat sprayed his skin with each foot strike so that he ran in a hot mist of his own creation.  With each slap on the softened asphalt, his soles absorbed heat that rose through his arches and ankles and the stems of his shins.  It was a carnival of pain, but he loved each stride because running distilled him to his essence and the heat hastened this distillation."- James Tabor, from "The Runner," a short story

My legs look like Christmas ham! That was the sad realization I was forced to accept last week, when upon close inspection, the appaling sight of unshapely thighs greeted me. I was pissed and angry, and I made the decision to go back dancing the soonest time possible . Reason? my legs didn't look this bad when I danced a couple of hours every night.

But I can't go back at the drop of a hat. My boxing doesn't end until January, and my membership with Red Corner extends well until June. Add to that, my brother has been poking fun at me (and literally poking my sides) for looking like a boxer. Further adding insult to injury is my dad who tells me I was better off dancing than throwing punches.

These all broke Stephie's back.

I resolved to do the only thing within my power to do----run. I do not know how to, I never had to do roadwork before. Lar's jam classes and an hour of cosmic cycling took care of that. But apparently, boxing doesn't---or in my case it didn't because I failed to make the ground feel needed.

I've already made friends with the treadmill and started a walk-jog-walk-run routine. Getting up one hour earlier isn't any fun, but it sure breaks sweat. For the first time in my life I appreciated the rhythm of running at a steady pace and feeling a slight burn in my lungs.

I'm not gonna push it though. I know I'll never have the stamina to run steadily for an hour. But 10 or 15 minute intervals is better than nothing.

And so this goes down in history as the day Stephie was forced to take up running.

Angel's LSS: Lose Control by jasmine trias
24/7 Reading List: Running for Dummies (That's Me!)
Silverscreen Pick: Grey's Anatomy Season II
Differential Diagnosis: determined

Apollo 13
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Today, I am that ill-fated moon exploration mission. For someone whose claim to fame is patience that extends to the moon and back, i had to dial in and send my SOS: "Houston, I have a problem...I cannot take any more stupidity from the people around me."

Yes, I spontaneously combusted. And now, my smoldering debris are slowly re-entering the atmosphere.

Sorry Lord, angel24/7 mission failed.

Curdling
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 I asked my guts if we making dairy today. 

It was churning at about a hundred turns per minute, carefully curdling stomach acids and morning coffee. For a few seconds, the formed lumps hung suspended in my wind pipe then slowly rose to my throat, virtually choking me.

My insides continued to heave.

Unsettled and frustrated--- it vented anger on a tablespoon of coffee, sugar and cream---the unsuspecting contents of a venti tumbler I was downing  with neither mercy nor remorse.

Gulp after scalding gulp, my stomach grumbled its protests; churning until the curd turned thick and heavy. While I, sitting rod-straight in the intimidating conference room, nodded and feigned a smile. 

The lumps became hands that balled into fists.

Pelted with punches, pain rendered me deaf to sugar-coated speeches. I could no longer listen. Convulsing in spasm, I bolted out of the room to spew----my violent reactions; my swallowed protests; my muffled questions---all washed down by this morning's coffee.

My stomach exacted vengeance on me for being so damn chicken.

Pick of the Week:
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If I Keep My Heart Out of Sight

by: Nikki Gil

If I keep on talking now
I'll only start repeating myself
And all I can say is
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you

If I slip and tip my hand
I'm certain to scare you away
Then what would I say
I'd be hurting I'm certain
I'd be uncool to let you know that you're the one
The fool who jumped the gun

'Cause I've been advised by other girls
You've left behind
Your goodbyes are somewhat unrefined
But if I play my role just right
Tonight could be my lucky night
And you could be mine

If I present it to you
With a flower in the moonlight
Shiny and new
Well, you couldn't say no tonight
If I keep my heart out of sight

If I play my role just right
Then Tonight could be my lucky night
And you could be mine

If I present it to you
With a flower in the moonlight
Oh, shiny and new
Well, you couldn't say no tonight
If I keep my heart out of sight

Mercury in Retrograde
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You're terrified of carousels, yet ride it again and again, believing centripetal force would change how your world has been revolving: opposite your fixed path around the sun.

You liken  yourself to mercury in retrograde--transiting the heavens in several  reverse cycles each year. Except you say, you have yet to find  your way back into orbit.

Gravity threw you off kelter. Attraction to the sun upset your pre-set motion in the cosmos.

From a celestial being once capable of commanding the skies, you're now a mere mass of burning gas in the solar system.

Day after day you board that carousel, relishing the feeling of being spun around, all the while hoping for some unseen force to jolt you back on  track.

But you dread coming to a halt.

For when the ride ends you realize why you were moving in retrograde: you've been circling the wrong sun.

Absolutely Hooked
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Seattle Grace Hospital's Surgery Team

What's so addicting about it? It's more Sex and the City than it is E.R. And yes, Patrick Dempsey truly is doctor mac dreamy.

Light of a Million Mornings
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Do It Anyway
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by Mother Theresa

People are often unreasonable, illogical,
And self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you
Of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some
False friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank;
People may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building,
someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness,
they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today,
people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have,
and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis
it is between you and God
It was never between you and them anyway.

pp.d@ares.u
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Are You Up For The Challenge?

On Dec. 10, 2005, Pinoypoets will be holding its grand members night at Penguin Bar, Malate.

pp.d@res.u, will bring together members and friends in an evening of poetry, music and fun activities. There will be musical performances by Sruvaleh, Ria Bautista of Paramita, Babes Alejo, Ergband, Jacie and Honey and other surprise numbers. Some of the members will also perform poems from their poetry CD, Ora Poetika.

Exciting and daring challenges that will bring out the funny sides of these poets will also be provided to entertain members and guests.

The activity will also be highlighted by the launch of their
official website, www.pinoypoets.com which was conceptualized by a team of experts from PODD, a Cebu based web designing and
Development Company, headed by Christine Rohm and EO Cedeno, who incidentally, are members of the group.

The event intends to raise funds for the production of the group's second poetry chapbook, Obverse Volume II (O2), scheduled for release in early 2006 and other forthcoming activities.

Everyone is encouraged to bring with them poems, either their own
composition or just personal favorites for an open mic reading.
Event starts at 8:00PM.

The P80.00 entrance is inclusive of 1 bottle of beer.

For more information, please get in touch with Romel Samson at risingphoenix101@yahoo.com or 0927 847-0212

This says it all:
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