So This is My Journal

I Forgot My Water
November 11, 2008, 1:31 pm
Filed under: Reflections | Tags: , , , , , ,

It was Saturday, but I needed to be up early for a seminar I would be attending for church. Alas, I wasn’t able to avoid the usual scenario of me rushing early in the morning because of the failure to wake up at the prescribed time, with the fear of being late for whatever appointment I have. Okay, I had everything I needed: wallet, mobile phone (which I hastily grabbed for its battery was still being charged), vanity kit (a.k.a. “kikay kit”), notebook, pen, food (had to skip breakfast to avoid being too late), and since I’m the kind of person who always gets thirsty, I made sure I prepared my water-filled tumbler. So, I got in the car (where my brother was already giving me that you-are-late-again-and-therefore-I-am-also-late look) with my heart beating as fast as the speed my brother was driving. As my mind was just starting to get calm, I remembered something — I didn’t have a Bible, and oh — I forgot my tumbler. It was left on our dining table, abandoned by the owner who badly needed it.

Of course, having a Bible was important to me, so I told my brother to just drop me and my sister off at some place we could easily get a mode of transportation to church at… and where I could buy a bottle of water. Rushing in the mall, I finally got my water, so we’re off to church. At the church, I went to the office to get my spare Bible, chatted a bit with the folks there and borrowed some change from them, then I got out, ready to take off for our original destination. We easily got a tricycle, and I was ready to be calm again until — oh my goodness, I forgot my water at the church!

Having read the previous account, one can conclude that I’ve got a really bad case of forgetulness. Maybe if the parts of the human body were detachable, I would always end up forgetting an arm or an ear. My sister told me that it was natural for her to be forgetful because she had already undergone surgery, but me? It’s just utterly abnormal. And now I’ve been thinking that maybe I should also undergo surgery — brain surgery, that is — to repair my memory.

Sometimes, I fear that I’d forget more than water — I fear that I might forget names, faces, memories of people, places, or events dear to me. I fear that I might one day fail to remember important things in my life. Forgetting small things alarm me, but what would alarm me more is forgetting greater ones. For now, I’m taking suggestions on how to deal with my poor memory from my family and friends. For the future, however, I only have one wish to make: that I’d be able to forever remember the things valuable to me and hold on to all the things that conributed to the making of me.


Why I couldn’t Write
November 5, 2008, 2:32 pm
Filed under: Reflections | Tags: , , ,

I want to be a writer. But to be a writer, one needs to be diligent enough to write a minimum of five essays in a not-so-productive day. So there goes my dream. I am just too lazy to be a writer.

Or is it really laziness that hinders me from scribbling my thoughts away?

I remember a time when I would write on my little pink notebook every hour, every day. When I forgot to bring my pink notebook (as I am probably the most forgetful “well” person there is on the face of the planet), I always had a spare notebook on hand so as not to waste my thoughts. At that time, I would wander off to the little huts in our school grounds to scribble my time away. I didn’t care about the bustling students or the smelly pond. All I cared about was the connection my pen was making with the sheet of paper and the ideas they were both immortalizing in the process. I no longer do that now.

Why? It’s not because I ran out of notebooks to write on. Definitely not because I don’t have the time. It’s just that what I do remember is, those days when I’d write unstoppably were days when I had inspiration — I had inspiration and was willing to let it extract something from me.

Laziness is just an excuse. It’s the unwillingness to let inspiration move me that’s preventing me from doing what I like to do. That’s selfishness, I know, and so now, I’d like each day to have a memory written on just any sheet of paper I can get hold of, or encoded in the integrated circuits of my memory card. I’d like each inspiration to bring about something that I would remember in the future. And that would be my way of showing each my appreciation for inspiring me.

On Sponge Cakes and Waiting
November 3, 2008, 2:05 pm
Filed under: Reflections | Tags: , , , , ,

Did you know that sponge cakes are the most test-your-patience cakes to bake? I learned this when I studied baking, and boy, did I swear I’d never attempt to make them!

You see, all cakes need some patience to be able to make, especially at the last part when you need to place them in the oven for baking. You need to make sure the right temperature is achieved (You’ll need an oven thermometer for that, which I thought was unnecessary at first. I realized, however, that this is one of the crucial devices one needs to become an expert baker.) and maintained. You also have to see to it that the time needed for it to set is precise, or else, your cake will fall apart. You can’t open the oven door because heat will escape (first-time bakers find this hard to do because of the curiosity and
eagerness they have to see their first-ever finished product), decreasing the temperature inside the oven, which in turn won’t make your batter rise enough, giving you a “short” cake (put it this way: you want a 3-inch-tall cake, but you’ll get a 2-inch one instead). Well, all cakes need that, but a sponge cake needs more than that. Sponge cakes are supposed to be porous, and really tall (am I using the right description? Should I say thick?), so they need a low temperature and longer cooking time. This part is challenging, especially if you’re a person who has gotten used to eating microwave dinners and instant noodles. However, this part is the most crucial, for a sponge cake is not a sponge cake unless it’s porous. And it won’t be porous unless you let it be.

The same goes with the things we wait for in life. We can’t rush them just as we can’t turn off the fire until the cake finishes baking. Rushed things also tend to fall apart before you know, just as a cake would if one opened the oven door to take a peek. Things acquired when still immature are as devastating as half-baked cakes — they may bring you joy when you see them being taken out of the oven, but the frustration comes when you have your first bite.

So whenever you feel like rushing things, or settling for something you know is still unripe, think of sponge cakes. Think of all the best things prepared for you only when you are patient enough to wait for the right time…

25 Realizations at 25
November 1, 2008, 4:53 am
Filed under: Reflections | Tags: , , ,

From paper to wood to crystal, now I’m silver. Finally, in 25 years of
existence, I’ve become something that’s of worth. And with this, I’ve come to realize:

1) that conversations with kids are where one is most uninhibited,
2) and conversations, in general, are the best stress-reliever;
3) that the most difficult action and reaction to fake is laughter,
4) and the most difficult to hide is unbelief;
5) that meals with loved ones are the most awaited events of the day,
6) and sleeping time is another;
7) that sleep is expensive;
8) that driving a vehicle equals independence;
9) that answering the call of nature when and where needed saves one from a great deal of suffering;
10) that being able to admit you farted proves your security;
11) that love is truly a choice;
12) that people indeed live by grace;
13) that coffee is a staple drink;
14) that, as cliché as

it may sound, giving is better than receiving;
15) that ideals must not become standards;
16) that authority, no matter how undeserving, must still be respected;
17) that appreciation must be audible and visible;
18) that happiness can be bought — it’s joy that can’t;
19) that physical beauty is relative, but beauty of character is seen and appreciated by all;
20) that rebuke is sweeter when not sugar-coated;
21) that relationships are more valuable than a career;
22) that the angriest person can be calmed down by five words: sorry i realize my fault
23) that you cannot always have your way;
24) that God can answer any question,
25) and that people start to mature once they begin to admit they do commit mistakes

I wonder what more I’ll learn in the next few years…say, ’till my golden year? 🙂

Green Spongebob
November 1, 2008, 4:50 am
Filed under: 3rd Person | Tags: , , , , ,

She’s too structured. That’s her problem. She
didn’t want to buy a Spongebob Coloring Book because she thought that
she could never use the other colors of her 64-piece crayon set, for
Spongebob would always be yellow, Patrick Star would forever be pink,
Mr. Krabbs red, and so on. “Then try to use other colors. Make
Spongebob green,” her friend said. “But that would not be right.
Spongebob is yellow,” she replied.

Call her Ms. Rule Book; dub her as the Principled Princess, because
that’s what she is. Bending laws is a no-no for her. She has carefully
laid out all her principles and standards, and it’s just so hard for
her to break even just one of them. One decision to make is always
crucial, for it may trample on her personal by-laws. For her, mind is
always over heart; the brain is always mightier than emotions. After
all, feelings aren’t controlled by the heart, but by the hypothalamus
of the brain, she says.

But things aren’t always cool. Situations don’t always go as planned.
Her hypothalamus sometimes fail her, too. Maybe it’s because sweating
is involuntary, and split-second decisions are forms of reflex actions.
Sometimes, she thinks she has schizophrenia, the type she sees in
movies, for she suddenly shows a persona so different from the real
her. However, at times she wished that the second personality — the
impulsive, crazy, risk-taking one — prevailed more. Pangs of
conscience and guilt haunt her afterwards, though.

Now, her only wish is to be able to smile at him properly, or perhaps
say his name without stuttering. This isn’t really a violation to any
of her rules. Before she can do this, however, she would first need to
be able to imagine Spongebob green.

A Letter from a Friend to a Friend

I admit: we all have a weakness. For
Samson, it was his hair. For Achilles, his heel. For Superman, kryptonite. For
you, it’s him.

It’s true. You seem to be so
strong in everything, so good at anything. We admire your grace and marvel at
your wits. Youths look up to you; scholars regard you as one of them. You can confidently
converse with anyone from any group, crack jokes in front of them, and get
crazy even in front of unfamiliar faces. But around him, you freeze and then
melt after a few seconds and then freeze again. You said words are your power,
then how come you couldn’t say a word whenever he talks to you? Why do you
forget your stock of vocabularies when you cross paths with him? Why does your
tongue stick to your palate when you try to answer back? Your confidence wanes.
Your system shuts down. I think it’s time for you to take action.

Yes, every person has his own
weakness. But Samson was still able to tear down the columns. Achilles killed a
horde of soldiers before falling down. Superman still beat Lex Luthor. And you?
You can face him; he’s human. Get a hold of yourself. Gather your guts. Think
of him as just another spelling quiz, just another audience member in one of
your speeches. He isn’t any different from all of the other people around you,
only you, yourself, think he is.

Lisa, don’t let him get you. Weaknesses
are normal, yes, but have you forgotten the word “overcome”? How about “triumph
over”? Girls below your IQ are better at syntax than you are when it comes to
non-academic-but-equally-important stuff like this. Think. Think hard.
Contemplate. Your weakness can’t take you forever.

Wait for my next e-mail.


On Pants and Acceptance
November 1, 2008, 4:35 am
Filed under: Reflections | Tags: , ,

I wanted those dark brown limited edition pants so badly. The moment I laid my eyes on them, I already liked them, but I didn’t say a word because a friend liked them, too. None of us bought them because they were too expensive, but I was secretly determined to get my hands on them in time. One day, I had the chance to walk around the mall alone. “This is the perfect time to buy those pants,” I thought. So, I went straight to the store and tried the pants on. Too bad, though, they were long for me. However, my hopes didn’t die. “I could just take them to the tailor and have them cut,” I told myself, but I didn’t buy them that day. I thought they weren’t for me, but I never stopped hoping. Sometimes, I would pass by the store to get a glimpse of them. At times, I’d pass just to make sure they hadn’t been sold yet. I knew how crazy my feeling was, so I didn’t let anybody know about it. I was happy that way, just looking from afar. They weren’t mine, but at least no one owned them.
Until one fateful day, I couldn’t believe what I saw: the pants weren’t there anymore! I was devastated, dumbfounded, let down. Who could the blessed owner be? It would really be good if I knew who she was, but I’d rather not. It’d be better not to know her, for I would surely just be envious. But as fate would put it, it wasn’t long until I found out who it was: my friend. They fit her perfectly — no cutting or adjustments needed. They looked good on her. That time, I knew wearing them would just be a dream. Seeing them afar was still possible, but they could never be mine. I could only get as close, but could never take possession. And, after many sleepless nights, I learned to accept that.
Now, history repeats itself. This time, they’re black knee-length pants. They fit me perfectly, but alas, someone got to own them first — yet another one of my friends.
It couldn’t be just pure coincidence, for I don’t believe in such. I know that things don’t come my way because they really aren’t for me, or maybe I need some sort of preparation before I could get them. Sometimes I ask why, of all people, it had to be my friends who would get what I want, when it only intensifies the pain. However, I believe that God allows these things to happen so I can learn something important. At the moment, I’m still in the process of discovering what it is.
All I know is: it could be more than just pants.