I hate to be the bearer of bad news. The following account is an update in the love life of a friend. We are friends in the sense that we share the obligatory act of observing and maintaining fellowship, brotherhood and sisterhood in Church context… oh, i hope you get the point!
I would like to believe that we are friends since there had been a sharing of secrets and disclosing of private and personal matters in the past and heretofore… I’m willing to be his friend, for one. I just don’t know the case in his part. Continue reading “Stench”
We are all at the mercy of our Landlords – we who are mere Tenants. We, who rent and dwell temporarily… we, who merely ‘borrow” and beg for shelter through the language of money and negotiation. When the Landlord wills to take our humble abode, who are we to refuse? As long as we pay, we hold a small right, but when the paying stops, we lay no claim to any piece of land or territory. Continue reading “Mini Gods”
Perhaps I’m bitter…
Perhaps I’m envious…
Perhaps I’m in denial…
Perhaps I can’t accept the fact that… Continue reading “They Are Close to the Skies”
I wonder if there is a right way – or a truly “proper” way to thank a person. Is there a better way of saying thank you than saying it in the most sincere and genuine way possible? If someone says thank you with an unfeigned, heartfelt and earnest heart, isn’t that enough? Isn’t being and feeling “thankful”, enough at all?
Continue reading “My Pathetic Thank You”
The rain pours and showers, bespattering the glass windows of the convenience store. I decided to stay for a while, hoping that the depressing rain stops. It’s comforting to realize that the convenience store served its purpose for such an unsettling time as this: a shelter in time of storms; a refuge in times of peril.
But that is not why I write. Continue reading “Dotted & Plain”
They say we’re bestfriends. But they touch…boy, do they touch!
Continue reading ““We’re Bestfriends…””
It’s that time of the school year when students are obliged to “assess” their professors for the semester that is about to close. As much as Carine wanted to say bad things, diss, and look for something that contributes to a professor’s ruination, say, for the sake of attention, noise-making, talk, criticism, and childish fun, she could’nt conjure up anything of the destructive kind – nothing of the harmful vein. It wouldn’t be fair, you see. Even with a sometimes careless and imprudent heart with pessimistic inclinations, Carine upholds that truth is truth; facts are facts. What is obvious is clear... and what not.
Continue reading “Carine’s Small Rebellion”
I like the name Ross – Ross for a guy. I would consider naming my baby Ross if he turns out to be a dude. I like Ross in FRIENDS. There is so much personality and animation in the name Ross.
Continue reading “Ross of Norzagaray”
Potty-train a baby as early as possible, they say. It’s easy to say and advise parents this when one is a mere onlooker – separate and detached from the actual situation. It was easy for me to say this hitherto, when I was still learning about it in school. What with all those theories on a person’s development and psychology… Continue reading “Refusing to Clean Up After One’s “Accidents”: A Justification”
One ripe afternoon, two college girls draped themselves on the steps of the stairs that skirted out of a great hall. One’s lithe body seemed haphazardly flung, like a strip of satin left to conform to the contours of solid marble. Almost in a sunbathing manner, her head was tilted upward – towards the sun – like a Sunflower absorbing solar power. Confidence emanated from her manner –the one who was the taller of the two.
The shorter girl kept more to herself, it seemed. Her palms were wedged in the space formed and pressed between the back of the thighs and the calves – a curious folded position that almost mimics that of a fetus. Clearly, what sprang forth from her was an impression of subjugation and reserve.
The two were complementary to each other.
The taller girl suddenly hoisted herself up and faced the shorter one. She was bent on saying something – a confession?… an idea?… an unveiling? Continue reading “Two Ionas in a Shell”