dec 28 05

People Like Us
by robert bly

There are more like us. All over the world
There are confused people, who can't remember
The name of their dog when they wake up, and people
Who love God but can't remember where

He was when they went to sleep. It's
All right. The world cleanses itself this way.
A wrong number occurs to you in the middle
Of the night, you dial it, it rings just in time

To save the house. And the second-story man
Gets the wrong address, where the insomniac lives,
And he's lonely , and they talk, and the thief
Goes back to college. Even in graduate school,

You can wander into the wrong classroom,
And hear great poems lovingly spoken
By the wrong professor. And you find your soul
And greatness has a defender, and even in death you're safe.

nov 12 2005

Sa Huli
ni R. Anonuevo

Masyado nang sumusuot sa balat ang lamig.
Parang nanunukso lang ang pagsulpot sulpot
ng araw ganitong Abril sa London.
Kailangan ko nang umalis.
Tama na ang isang linggong
pagtingala sa mga palasyo at katedral.
Pag lumabis pa ritoy lilisan
na akong ang bigat na baon
ay hindi lang damit at pinamiling sapatos,
kundi hinihilang loob, na parang balat na napupuknat,
napipilas sa pinakamalalim na laman,
nahihilam sa biglang pulandit ng dugo,
namimintig sa mga luhang umiiwas mahuli
sa tarangkahan ng nakatanod na pamamaalam.

oct. 15 2005

i have forgotten how it is to blog. four months? the longest ever. my theory that blogging is a cycle, like life is, rings true. a cycle, a recurring thing. and im sure is starting it again. these four months, i have lived my life to the fullest ( according to angie's lifemeter not according to anybodys standards). im 28. im happy. i have a good paying job, i have a loving family. i have the truest of friends. i am thin. i have books- harry potter, inspirationals, oprah endorsed books, coelho. and i know the best neruda poem. i am singing. i can be funny. i love guitars.and music. i have myself and most of all i have God. and a purpose. for all of these, i am thankful and smiling and crying. i am so much blessed. and there's no better way to start this cycle of blogging with these super duper corny thoughts. ha ha!

June 26, 05

The barren branches of the trees stretch out

skyward, like old knarled hands ready for

the heavens, imploring. How long has it been

since the last rain? Many moons.

Has the Lord forgotten?

The dry winds of summer waft silent prayers

skyward; the untiring hands continue their

oblation.

Soon, soon...it will come.

LT. Zendhrane

June 18, 05

Sometimes, I feel that I have written my life on pages of some manuscript. Well, literally I have. I started writing a diary since I was 13. it was just an ordinary cheap notebook, one that I keep extra in school. After reading and getting inspired by the diary of anne frank, I put it to a good use and began writing a diary of my own. At the center of its first page, I wrote in curling letters the word DIARY. Then began my thoughts journey as a young girl. They all had to be written, oh yes they should! The everyday events-life in school and at home, some poetry I had written and some favorites, songs that I love, quotations of every kind, inspirational words. I also had a slumbook page where I wrote my favorite color, actors, singer, books, tv shows, almost everything you can find in a slum book. I was religiously writing down everything that was happening to my world. It was year after year. It was the thought of when I get older, I would have to take pleasure in reading what my thoughts were when I was in my adolescent years, and that would be wonderful and outrageous. Thats how it should be. And I was looking forward to it. I managed to do that for a few years, until my parents accidentally burned up everything. As in everything.

Two days have passed before I even knew it happened. My father went, your mommy and I cleaned up everything already, no more mosquitoes around the house, nothing more that would cause dengue. To my father, cleaning was defined as burning every piece of junk he considers. I was panicky, ano po nilinis nyo? the next thing I knew I was crying on one corner, remembering the treasures ive lost, reminiscing the times I fixed those little possessions with joy.

It wasnt only the diaries. There were letters, post-it-messages from friends, favorite subjects notebook, and my favorite book too. The lists goes on- articles and clippings, high grade test papers, published articles for our school paper, some school and personal projects, keepsakes like dried roses, corsage, candy wrappers, etc. they were all there, inside that rickety-looking cabinet of mine. I dont know if it was forgivable though. After all these months, I still remember. Its ashes muddled up with the dirt. Sometimes I think a part of me was taken away too. For someone so forgetful, its a whole lot of wealth lost. There are people who can remember most events in their life so vividly. While some unfortunately just cant. And thats me, the unfortunate me.

now i dont use notebooks that much anymore, well not like before. i still have high regards to it though, still buying notebooks from time to time, keeping it inside my fave box where nothing and no one can ever take it away from me again.

april 23 2005

sometimes i feel like i belong to the old world. where women take love as it should be. where love is pure and clean. and beautiful. serene. where love goes beyond the physical. and most of all tested by time. i hate being a traitor to my generation when it concerns to love. i know i am old fashioned as i can be but that earns respect as much as i respect those who swears love the moment they smelled it from their supposed mr perfect. i live in a world where nothing can be more casual than sex. where being a virgin is being sneered at and being sexually active is like being crowned to a hero's throne. i like love as it should be. there's more to it than sex. there's friendship, affection, ardour, compassion. and that makes it precious and wonderful.

april 10 05

heres a deeply moving account about a 13 year old jewish girl and a young seminarian from krakow, poland named Karol Wojtyla in 1945. (taken from the Roger Vohen of New York Times)

"During the summer of 1942, two women in Krakow, Poland, were denounced as Jews, taken to the city's prison, held there for a few months and then sent to the Belzec death camp, where in October they were killed in primitive Nazi gas chambers by carbon monoxide from diesel engines. Their names were Frimeta Gelband and Salomea Zierer; they were sisters. As it happens, Frimeta was my wife's grandmother. Salomea - known as Salla - had two daughters, one of whom survived the war and one of whom did not.

The elder of these daughters was Edith Zierer. In January 1945, at age 13, she emerged from a Nazi labor camp in Czestochowa, Poland, a waif on the verge of death. Separated from her family, unaware that her mother had been killed by the Germans, she could scarcely walk.
But walk she did, to a train station, where she climbed onto a coal wagon. The train moved slowly, the wind cut through her. When the cold became too much to bear, she got down at a village called Jedrzejow. In a corner of the station, she sat. Nobody looked at her, a girl in the striped and numbered uniform of a prisoner, late in a terrible war. Unable to move, Edith waited.

Death was approaching, but a young man approached first, "very good looking," as she recalled, and vigorous. He wore a long robe and appeared to be a priest. "Why are you here?" he asked. "What are you doing?" Edith said she was trying to get to Krakow to find her parents.

The man disappeared. He came back with a cup of tea. Edith drank. He said he could help her get to Krakow. Again the mysterious benefactor went away, returning with bread and cheese. They talked about the advancing Soviet Army. Edith said she believed that her parents and younger sister, Judith, were alive.

"Try to stand," the man said. Edith tried and failed. He carried her to another village, where he put her in the cattle car of a train bound for Krakow. Another family was there. The man got in beside Edith, covered her with his cloak and made a small fire.

His name, he told Edith, was Karol Wojtyla. Although she took him for a priest, he was still a seminarian who would not be ordained until the next year. Thirty-three more years would pass before he became Pope John Paul II and embarked on a papacy that would help break the Communist hold on Central Europe and so transform the world.

Edith fled from Karol Wojtyla when they arrived at Krakow in 1945. The family on the train, also Jews, had warned her that he might take her off to "the cloisters." She recalls him calling out, "Edyta, Edyta!" - the Polish form of her name - as she hid behind large containers of milk.

But hiding was not forgetting. She wrote his name in a diary, her savior, and in 1978, when she read in a copy of Paris-Match that he had become pope, she broke into tears. By then Edith Zierer was in Haifa, Israel, where she now lives.

Letters to him went unanswered. But at last, in 1997, she received a letter from the Vatican in which the pope recalled their meeting. A year later they met again at the Vatican. Edith thanked the pope for saving her. He put one hand on her head, another hand in hers, and blessed her. As she parted, he said, "Come back, my child."

truly a beautiful account. i am really saddened by our Pope's death. but it was a life greatly lived. im sure he would be praying for us all the more, now that he is in heaven with God.

march 23 05

to make sure they get by with the holy week season, globe telecom sent an sms to their subscribers. it said, "The most meaningful trip this Holy Week is down the Way of the Cross.Take time to reflect.14 stations, 1x/day. Reply with AMEN, P2.50/msg." ha ha ha, funny.


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march 5 2005

im sooo happy these days that my smile reaches to my ears. i am februarys employee of the month! just 3 or 4 days ago i was blogging on how tough the competition was with unexpected teams going up on the ranks. well, we didnt make the 3 consecutive month of being on top. but we were still winners for fighting and trying our best. and im glad to say that we played the perfect game. and unexpectedly too, i emerged a winner in some way or another, for being the employee of the month for the toughest period ever. so, i just thought maybe i ought to reward myself this time.

so heres a cute reward for myself -

in my mind and in my heart, i know that the recognition i got was the very gift itself. im so thankful to God, because He gave me this gift in what He deems is the perfect time. im forgetting their words "its long over due". im sure i deserve this today more than yesterday.

march 1 2005

we had a bargain with GOD last week. me and kathy. just a week more of a hundred percent QA LORD and then, we could fail for the next week. and the week after that. we sure were bargaining. it took our team the titans to be the number one team for 2 consecutive months- december and january. last week, we were running 2nd for the month of february already. blame it on our team manager, kokoy, who was using words like "this is our playing field" or "never did it happen that a team garnered three consecutive months of being number 1" or "this is where we are" or "we are up/down by point..." . the ultimate and scariest thing he posted in our bulletin board. it says - "WIN or lose, WE PLAYED THE BEST GAME".Ugh. the word lose was lost in the swirling designs. so the word win was magnified 100 times! plus that smug look of kokoy. its downright scary because it seems that he really believed in us. for once in my whole stay with this company, i have never thought of doing my best, as in my best till last week. at the end of the day, we all have horrible stories of what we thought were failed calls. we were paranoid to the highest level. its stretched our patience a mile long to forced humility. we were forced to be prisoners by our very selves. hey, what else can we do? most englishmen are snotty, racist and mean. we kept ourselves humble last week by being a true runner. yeah right.

and then i got a hundred percent QA. and kathy too. i can never thank GOD enough. we were blessed as always. it paved off after all. whew... if we made it to number 1, we still dont know yet. three of our team mates failed. we sympathize with them. i know how that must have felt. but the good news is we all played the game well, regardless of what kokoy and the other people think, we played the game the best way we can. this week i intend not to entertain the least pressure from work. and i really mean it.

Thats All I Ask of You

No more talk of darkness,

Forget these wide-eyed fears,

Im here nothing can harm you

my words will warm and calm you

Let me be your freedom

let daylight dry your tears

Im here with you, beside you to guard you to guide you...

Then say youll love me...every winter moment,

turn my head with talk of summertime

say you need me with you now and always

promise me that all you say is true

that's all I ask of you

Let me be your shelter

let me be your light

you're safe no one will find you

your fears are far behind you...

all I want is freedom a world with no more night,

and you, always beside me to hold me, and to hide me

then say youll share with me one love, one life time

let me lead you for your solitude

say you need me with you here beside you

anywhere you go... let me go too
Christine that’s all I ask of you

say youll share with me one love one lifetime

say the word and I will follow you..

share each day with me each night each morning

say you love me....you know I do

Love me thats all I ask of you