Getting Old

These days, I almost never visit this site anymore. Unless I am feeling extra moody or utterly bored, I usually veer away from these blog that is a house to a lot of juvenile musings and rantings. I don’t want to be mis-quoted. I used the word, juvenile – not in an effort to mask nor justify all the hatred and negativities of my past entries, no sir. But as a way to come to terms with myself, and to finally accept that this once young girl has now become, well for lack of better word,  old.

Now let’s not be too harsh on the word old, yes? Sometimes being old is a good thing. Try not to think about gnarled hands brought by rheumatism. Stop thinking about senility and Alzheimer’s disease. Do not even start on those adult diapers which, at some point will have to stop being funny. For a while, let’s forget about putting an age to being old.

Let’s think about quiet mornings with soft breakfast conversations. Let’s talk about humming in the balcony while watching the dust dancing in the dusky sunlight. How about finishing work on time every single day and coming home to a dog who never stops wagging his tail? Or maybe a lazy stroll at the grocery, finding thrills and mysteries at the vegetable and milk lane? And how about waking up in the middle of night and re-reading old novels while drinking milk?

There so much stories to tell these days about me finally slowing down my pace. I never actually noticed things were changing, but one day I realized I wasn’t rushing anymore. I laughed more and talked less. I was finally living life as it should.

A couple of days ago, KG and I were about to go to bed and I was at that point of losing consciousness when I turned around and startled her with a seemingly nonsensical question. I  asked, “What did we do to deserve being happy?” She didn’t say anything. She just smiled and hugged me and said goodnight. What she didn’t probably realize was I got all the answers I needed right there.

These days, I sigh more not because I feel tired but because I enjoy breathing so much. I wake up in the morning trying to take in the smell of the air and thinking, “What a nice day this will be.” When I walk my dog, I talk to him too, not because I want to teach him new tricks, but because I want him to know the sound of my voice when I’m not reprimanding him. Sometimes I still talk to myself, not unlike the past – but this time, I just talk and not argue with my inner Jing.

I meant this entry to be short and sweet. I just had a sudden urge to write after blog-hopping  tonight. But I am just so full of good stories to tell. I feel so much happiness I’m just about ready to burst. For a change, this blog is being written in smiles.

My Corner

In the last few years, I have been more of a reader than a writer. A lurker, more than the star of the show. I'm sure you know what I mean. In the past, I have always had this innate thirst to be the center of everyone's life. I wanted to matter, no matter what. I had that. And I thought I had it all. But at the end of the show, I realized, it was really nothing but that - just a show.

These days, I find comfort in being on the side. I've learned to enjoy to watch life go by. I feel no insane pressure to change the world. I have no need to make a mark. I am simply watching the world - as it should be seen. Naked and raw. Vivid and...unchanged.

Little by little, I've come to realize that the cause of great disappointment and pain is wanting too much, giving too much, and hoping for too much. It's not so bad to take each day as it comes, you know. Not bad at all.

Today, I find great joy in watching a dried leaf soar up when a big gust of wind scoops it up. I find it hilarious to spend hours with my dog and I just staring into each other's eyes. A new recipe which I perfected on the first try is an accomplishment. Waking up, and then having the luxury to sleep right back is one hell of a miracle for me. I am one with myself. I am at peace with my world.

I'm living my life. And I'm  living it well. Not many people can claim that. When I'm older and life, for one reason or another may turn for the worse, I will make sure to look back here. I know I will find my way back. This is my road back to my corner. My own.

Same Old, Same Old

I've been through this once before. And maybe it's true when they say that practice makes perfect, because this time, I feel more at peace - or maybe numb. Same thing.

I'm starting over again. Yet again. Can I go through this again? I have only myself to blame. Same old, same old.

I don't know what's wrong with myself. Maybe I've fallen in love with the idea of growing old alone too much. I have envisioned myself to be an old, pathetic, melancholic woman who will live the rest of her life reminiscing about her wonderful, colorful history. Aah yes, history. That would be all there is at the end of the road. Same old, same old.

Chewii's First Birthday

We celebrated Chewii's Birthday last August 4. Friends and family alike came over to join the fun.
I was supposed to start a photoblog for 265 days starting last May. Better late than never.
So let's start this with this photo.

In the picture with me is Chewii's mommy, Kay. Nice family pic we have here. :)
The night was awesome, filled with lotsa fun and running. With Chewii's dog guests, whaddaya expect? :p

The Muse Visits

My muse visited me last night. She has been fleeting and evasive as of late, and her sudden pop- in actually surprised me. And yes, as always, my muse was, is and always will be a pleasant surprise. She comes and goes and never really stays. An interventionist, my muse, that’s her.

I don’t think I have ever talked about her here. I’ll try to do it today. Pardon the shallow words I will be using my dear muse. You don’t deserve these trivial and petty sketch that I will do of you today.

As all writers and artists (which I like to associate with and consider myself to be one, thank you very much), I have my quirks, moods and temper that even I cant seem to understand. Much less control, if you know what I mean. When I write, I have to be in a particular mood which is beyond words to describe. As if in a limbo, strange emotions mix together to make me feel something like a combination of being thrilled, poignant,  exultant and animated. Everything happens in a reflex. Writing becomes automatic. Sometimes I feel like its my fingers doing the thinking. In engulfs and swallows me whole while it stretches me thin at the same time. At the end of it, I would feel spent yet satiated. These, among all others are what my muse does to me whenever she visits.

Other writers talk about having writer’s block. I’ve had my share of that too. I define it as the time when my muse refuses to reveal itself. She hides in the cupboards. She veils herself beneath my curtains. And she holes herself under the bed. During these times, no matter how hard or pathetically I beg her to show a glimpse, my muse holds back. She remains stubborn and strong -willed, uncompromising and selfish. And I end up staring at blank walls and white screens – numb, unfeeling. Zombified.

So you see, my muse and I have a love – hate relationship. It has been this way for so long that I wonder if I would ever get to keep her for good. On most occasions I have almost given up on her. It seems like for the longest time, I have been chasing her and I have come no closer in capturing my most elusive inspiration.

But you see, last night the muse visited me. I was on my way to work, and just a few seconds before I stepped inside the cab, I had the sudden impulse to write. I didn’t have anything in mind, nothing concrete really. But my muse egged me on, not wanting me to lose the momentum. She wasn’t very patient, and during the 5 minute ride to the office, she has threatened to run off yet again. I couldn’t afford that. I could let her escape this time, after such a long time of waiting. So when I got to the office, this post was the first thing I did.

She’s left now. So end of post. Until then.

Weekend

Weekend.

Today, I give myself a break from the rat race. For a brief respite of 2 days, I am gonna forget about my meetings, my reports and all the stress I get from studying charts of accounts and financial hullabaloos. Today, I am gonna breathe slowly, and forget the world outside my little corner. Today, I live.

Weekend.

I will play with my dog. Dance with KG.

I will write one piece of literature. I will sing.

I might do a little bit of cleaning (very therapeutic!).

And I will cook a dish I've never cooked before.

Today, I live.

I will not mind if I don't take a shower.

And I will probably miss to floss my teeth.

At least for the next 2 days.

I will sweat it out and release my energy - just because I want to feel spent.

And make it up by sleeping for 10 hours straight.

Its the weekend. And I intend to squeeze every bit of it to live and to feel alive.

Have a wonderful weekend people.

365 Project: Planning Stage

I've been writing here since 2005. This blog has been a testament to my little corner of life on this Earth for the last 7 years. And yes, lately - more than lately actually - I have been ignoring this little piece of garden for uh, lots of reasons. Dont start asking. I will not be able to answer your questions in one seating.

In the meantime, let me sidetrack.

I'm not entirely sure how I'd go about this, but I am going to be starting my own 365 project. This blog will be revamped to give way to a photo blog that will document my existence for 365 days. It will just be in time for this corner's May anniversary. Watch out for it.