THIS WAS THROWNBACK AS I AM AGAIN IN A VERY DARK PLACE...
FELY IS DEAD, SHE'S KEEPING HER SECRETS TO HER GRAVE.
am i really the alfie girl that you were looking for? what do we need to do to prove this? do we need to prove this? are the words of a dying man enough? what do you think? what do you feel? ...in my conversation with you, i can't help but want to hug you for being so strong and for acting detached the way you knew how. the talk was heavy and i was crying a river...
i have to let you know why i couldn't push this matter any longer. i have to make you see how i feel and how would she feel if i keep on bringing the matter that she has easily dismissed...what more can we do? what more can we talk of? will it be so bad for me, for you, for all of us to just let this river take its own course?
sad thing is, there were sadness, pains and regrets accompanying these questions. there are memories touched that brushed the big scars that i once thought was totally healed...i keep reminding myself that memories are monsters and that the mind should always be stronger than those memories...why do i allow myself to feel this way again?
what's it all about alfie? is this just for one moment we live? what's it all about when you sort it out alfie? are we meant to take more than we give? are we meant to be kind? what is this all about alfie? that is the question.
Showing posts with label alfie girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alfie girl. Show all posts
Thursday, December 8, 2022
Sunday, March 22, 2020
Sunday, July 16, 2017
life...is what we make it II
There were many times that my father was ‘absentee’ because of his work,
and then he was ‘deceased’ and it somehow didn’t matter to me anymore.
I knew that as the eldest, I have to be my mother’s assistant,
even a partner in taking care of my siblings and make sure our house is a home-
be it an extension of someone’s garage, a shanty by the ‘riles’ or
a room of a house of a relative. There were happy times, yes.
And we are truly a family, my mother and I made sure of that.
Despite the hardships, we excelled in school.
We were popular because we didn’t allow others to look down on us
and we proved that we didn’t have to be rich to be so.
As a family, we were a strange band of characters-- in the 80’s,
my mother and the three of us, in the 90’s ‘minus’ my sister
who died of leukaemia and another sister who was away from us for 10 years
but then it’s also ‘plus’ a new sister and two brothers
from my mother’s second marriage. We went through life sharing a lot- ideas,
school supplies, socks, toothpaste (even bath towels at times),
coveting one another's desserts, borrowing money, reading each other’s diaries,
inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending,
and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together…
and that common thread is my mother or the love for her.
Family (of origin) shaped my life in one way or another- who I am now
(and I have my own family), how I act, and how I keep my values,
and especially how I formed my identity. I have to form my own identity
besides the pre-wired identity that my family built because I realized that
I cannot depend on that (there were times I do not know what I want to be,
but I am quite sure of what I don’t want to be so I take it from there).
I remember some seven years ago, a girl called and told me that her dying father
is my father too, and that I have to give my forgiveness so that he would die in peace.
Fast forward, no one knows yet if this was true but I had another family added on my list.
Here, I was exposed to stories of how ‘this father’ was and how I came to observe
that we share a lot of commonalities and this made me wish I have met them
(he and his family) before he died. My choices and priorities now
are based on what I wanted my new family to be – less complicated, intact and
ever-present for each other. This wouldn’t be difficult (I hope)
because we’re a family of three.
But then I asked myself once:
would I be this strong-willed, patient, and passionate and
beautifully disturbed enough to try to help the least-favoured if we haven’t gone
through all those life’s struggles and complexities?
That is a question I wouldn’t risk answering by application now.
and then he was ‘deceased’ and it somehow didn’t matter to me anymore.
I knew that as the eldest, I have to be my mother’s assistant,
even a partner in taking care of my siblings and make sure our house is a home-
be it an extension of someone’s garage, a shanty by the ‘riles’ or
a room of a house of a relative. There were happy times, yes.
And we are truly a family, my mother and I made sure of that.
Despite the hardships, we excelled in school.
We were popular because we didn’t allow others to look down on us
and we proved that we didn’t have to be rich to be so.
As a family, we were a strange band of characters-- in the 80’s,
my mother and the three of us, in the 90’s ‘minus’ my sister
who died of leukaemia and another sister who was away from us for 10 years
but then it’s also ‘plus’ a new sister and two brothers
from my mother’s second marriage. We went through life sharing a lot- ideas,
school supplies, socks, toothpaste (even bath towels at times),
coveting one another's desserts, borrowing money, reading each other’s diaries,
inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending,
and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together…
and that common thread is my mother or the love for her.
Family (of origin) shaped my life in one way or another- who I am now
(and I have my own family), how I act, and how I keep my values,
and especially how I formed my identity. I have to form my own identity
besides the pre-wired identity that my family built because I realized that
I cannot depend on that (there were times I do not know what I want to be,
but I am quite sure of what I don’t want to be so I take it from there).
I remember some seven years ago, a girl called and told me that her dying father
is my father too, and that I have to give my forgiveness so that he would die in peace.
Fast forward, no one knows yet if this was true but I had another family added on my list.
Here, I was exposed to stories of how ‘this father’ was and how I came to observe
that we share a lot of commonalities and this made me wish I have met them
(he and his family) before he died. My choices and priorities now
are based on what I wanted my new family to be – less complicated, intact and
ever-present for each other. This wouldn’t be difficult (I hope)
because we’re a family of three.
But then I asked myself once:
would I be this strong-willed, patient, and passionate and
beautifully disturbed enough to try to help the least-favoured if we haven’t gone
through all those life’s struggles and complexities?
That is a question I wouldn’t risk answering by application now.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
choose. choices. choice.
There were many times that my father was ‘absentee’ because of his work,
and then he was ‘deceased’ and it somehow didn’t matter to me anymore.
I knew that as the eldest, I have to be my mother’s assistant,
even a partner in taking care of my siblings and
make sure our house is a home-
be it an extension of someone’s garage, a shanty by the ‘riles’ or
a room of a house of a relative. There were happy times, yes.
And we are truly a family, my mother and I made sure of that.
Despite the hardships, we excelled in school.
We were popular because we didn’t allow others to look down on us
and we proved that we didn’t have to be rich to be so.
As a family, we were a strange band of characters-- in the 80’s,
my mother and the three of us, in the 90’s ‘minus’ my sister
who died of leukaemia and another sister
who was away from us for 10 years
but then it’s also ‘plus’ a new sister and two brothers
from my mother’s second marriage. We went through life
sharing a lot- ideas,
school supplies, socks, toothpaste (even bath towels at times),
coveting one another's desserts, borrowing money,
reading each other’s diaries,
inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant,
loving, laughing, defending,
and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together…
and that common thread is my mother or the love for her.
Family (of origin) shaped my life in one way or another- who I am now
(and I have my own family), how I act, and how I keep my values,
and especially how I formed my identity. I have to form my own identity
besides the pre-wired identity that my family built because I realized that
I cannot depend on that
(there were times I do not know what I want to be,
but I am quite sure of what I don’t want to be so I take it from there).
I remember five years ago, a girl called and told me that her dying father
is my father too, and that I have to give my forgiveness
so that he would die in peace.
Fast forward, no one knows exactly (yet) if this was true
but I was (and still am) glad to have another family added on my list.
Here, I was exposed to stories of how ‘this father’ was and
how I came to observe
that we share a lot of commonalities and
this made me wish I have met them
(he and his family) before he died. Given that, my choices
and priorities now however
are based on what I wanted my own family to be –
less complicated, intact and
ever-present for each other. This wouldn’t be difficult (I hope)
because we’re a family of just three.
But then I asked myself once again:
would I be this strong-willed, patient, and passionate and
beautifully disturbed enough to try to help the least-favoured
if we haven’t gone
through all those life’s struggles and complexities?
That is a question I wouldn’t risk answering by application now.
and then he was ‘deceased’ and it somehow didn’t matter to me anymore.
I knew that as the eldest, I have to be my mother’s assistant,
even a partner in taking care of my siblings and
make sure our house is a home-
be it an extension of someone’s garage, a shanty by the ‘riles’ or
a room of a house of a relative. There were happy times, yes.
And we are truly a family, my mother and I made sure of that.
Despite the hardships, we excelled in school.
We were popular because we didn’t allow others to look down on us
and we proved that we didn’t have to be rich to be so.
As a family, we were a strange band of characters-- in the 80’s,
my mother and the three of us, in the 90’s ‘minus’ my sister
who died of leukaemia and another sister
who was away from us for 10 years
but then it’s also ‘plus’ a new sister and two brothers
from my mother’s second marriage. We went through life
sharing a lot- ideas,
school supplies, socks, toothpaste (even bath towels at times),
coveting one another's desserts, borrowing money,
reading each other’s diaries,
inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant,
loving, laughing, defending,
and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together…
and that common thread is my mother or the love for her.
Family (of origin) shaped my life in one way or another- who I am now
(and I have my own family), how I act, and how I keep my values,
and especially how I formed my identity. I have to form my own identity
besides the pre-wired identity that my family built because I realized that
I cannot depend on that
(there were times I do not know what I want to be,
but I am quite sure of what I don’t want to be so I take it from there).
I remember five years ago, a girl called and told me that her dying father
is my father too, and that I have to give my forgiveness
so that he would die in peace.
Fast forward, no one knows exactly (yet) if this was true
but I was (and still am) glad to have another family added on my list.
Here, I was exposed to stories of how ‘this father’ was and
how I came to observe
that we share a lot of commonalities and
this made me wish I have met them
(he and his family) before he died. Given that, my choices
and priorities now however
are based on what I wanted my own family to be –
less complicated, intact and
ever-present for each other. This wouldn’t be difficult (I hope)
because we’re a family of just three.
But then I asked myself once again:
would I be this strong-willed, patient, and passionate and
beautifully disturbed enough to try to help the least-favoured
if we haven’t gone
through all those life’s struggles and complexities?
That is a question I wouldn’t risk answering by application now.
Friday, December 27, 2013
cry of a weary heart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .(ballad of an old guitar)
i thought i've forgotten
the very day you and i first met
but i was wrong
'coz i remembered
i remembered
'twas decades ago
when i was tired of what i am
and what i'm doing
you went and held me dearly
never ever to let me go
for so long a time i thought
i would not grow tired
i would not grow tired of you
and your caress
of your unfaltering love
for years we shared our joys
our pains and memories
when love you thought was i
and what i do
you went and held me dearly
never ever to let me go
how i loved the way
your fingers stroke my being
the way your head leaned
on my unresponding shoulders
on my unfeeling system
those years you went on loving
and living just for me
you asked for more
and i gave almost everything i can
you went and held me dearly
never ever to let me go
i would want to say i love you
to say i do care
the pain is that i can't
'coz i am not made for that
not made for your love
a tear slowly rolled down my cheek
but 'twas unnoticed
you bathed me with your own
tears of despair and sadness
you went and held me dearly
never ever to let me go
i hated myself
for not having lips to kiss yours
to tell you things i long
'coz i can't, i am not
the one you thought i am.
you told me so many things
i do not really understand
you wanted me to feel the burden
i do not really know
you went and held me dearly
never ever to let me go
i dream of things
i am not meant of being
to please you but all's a dream
'coz i am not, i am not
meant for you
i asked you once- why me?
you didn't answer, i understand
'coz the voice heard by you
was never understood, will never be
you just went and held me dearly
never ever to let me go
you only heard what you wanted
it is made that way
you only see what you wanted
'coz it is what you want
it is what you want
can't you see i'm growing tired
growing tired of your love?
i am tired of dreaming
and wishing things i am not
and won't be
but you're holding me dearly
never ever to let me go
wake up my dearest
wake up from that slumber
dreams that would just fade
loo at life, life that life
with that someone you can call your own
to someone who could kiss and
wipe your tears away
someone to hold you dearly
never ever to let you go
spare me from life
love, i can not blend
i was never made to be what you want
you want me to be
spare me from your love
from love, from life, let go
spare me from your hold dear
spare me, let me go
for i belong to a world
much different from yours
let me be, let me go.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
"What if Jonah went to hell?"
A little girl was talking to
her teacher about whales.
The teacher said it was physically impossible
for a whale to
swallow a human
because even though it was a very large mammal
its throat was
very small.
The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale
Irritated, the teacher reiterated that
a whale could not swallow a human;
it
was physically impossible.
The little girl said,
"When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah".
The teacher asked,
"What if Jonah went to hell?"
The little girl replied, "Then you ask him".
[another funny yet profound spam]
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Friday, November 4, 2011
teach what you need to learn
wow! the week is almost over!
long weekend ahead!
time to checkout-
what have i accomplished this week?
what have i learned?
what am i thankful for?...
ooops! time to get ready
for a learning session
on knowledge management.
yes, i teach best what i most need to learn.
i thank you lord for this new day.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
i cant be sorry for who i am
oh eff! i don't even know who or what i am as a creature...one thing is for sure: i don't like it when someone says they know me so well or they speak of or write of me as if they have known me for a lifetime. where is this coming from? here--- i stumbled upon a poem and the poem hit me. usually poems hit me but this specific poem hit me as somebody who have not known me for long, believed he/she figured me out based on the fictional or not-so-fictional-whatever-that-is character i playfully projected and somehow ranted about it. why was i consumed by it? maybe because i wanted to cry foul 'coz when i playfully project one side of me to someone, its because i thought that someone is a more-advanced life form and wouldn't look at that side of me that way or...maybe, just maybe... i am loving the drama (we all do sometimes eh?) . oh well. :)
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