Angela’s Ashes - Frank McCourt

In his early age, Francis McCourt had lived in America, the land of the free. The land where his Mother (Angels) and his Father (Frank) had first met and fell in love.

Francis and his younger brother Malachy had to move back to the country where their parents grew up; Ireland, after the death of their younger siblings.

In Limerick, they were raised in a Catholic way.
In Limerick, they were forced to adapt, and endure the mockery of others regarding their American accent, their poor upbringings, their drunken father, etc.
Their childhood in the Catholic town of Ireland was no better than their time in America. If possible, worse. They were living in hunger.

Not only were they poor, they could not rely on the sole bread winner in the family. Any good job their father landed himself on, he will lose over a pint or two at the pub.
He’s definitely not a good father material.
But the children looked up to their father that it hurts the mother, when after a long time after the father chose to work in England and never sent a pence home, had to live with a relative. And he too, took advantage of his role as a host.

Francis and Malachy however, turned out to be quite good your men in such young age managed to provide for their mother, and more, their family of 5.



This book is very touching.
Not in a sense that you will squeeze your tears out. But there are a lot of emotions involved. In a bleak sense of humor, Frank McCourt could really present his life, undisclosed.


This book served its purpose as a memoir. A memoir of a childhood.
But to those who read it, it serves much more than that.
It serves as a metaphor of a difficult life, of how responsibility must be carried out.
It serves as a gentle reminder that no matter how dark your days are, you can still laugh about it, in your later years. No matter how hungry you are, your family is still there, and you should cherish it, you should tend to it, with your utmost effort.

And it too, serves as a constant inspiration, that despite all grief, we can see the silver lining that we can always get out in once piece.



Bravo Frank McCourt. You deserve the Pulitzer prize.
Looking forward to reading the sequel ‘Tis.


(also posted in www.cecolabookclub.blogdrive.com on 27th January 2005)

Tuesdays with Morrie - Mitch Albom

One young student and a sport journalist.
One professor and a dying man.
Both re-united by the teachings of love.

So sad that they were parted by long distance, and work.
And hunger of the materialistic world.
Where no one cared about anyone else but themselves.
When those people heeds money.

And so sad that their last class ended with death.


The beauty of this book is how you can relate to this hungry sport journalist.
And the way Mitch Albom portrayed his teacher, his professor, and more, his best friend, is just lovely.

The way Mitch described his flow of emotions during the times when he had to play nurse to his fading best friend really touched our soul.

The character building is exceptionally strong, especially in Morrie’s part. Mitch showed how this usually lively fellow was forced to be sad because he fell ill.

But what I like most about this book is that it taught us, even in death, we can still contribute to someone else’s life. And to love each other is the only key to life your life to the fullest.


This is surely one amongst all the books that inspires me.


(also posted in www.cecolabookclub.blogdrive.com - on 3rd January 2005)

Wake Up Call

My sis called last night.
She woke me up. Poked me hard on my head.
Got me thinking…

What if what she said was true?

Have I been building my castles in the air?
Have I been hanging my life by the thread?
Have I been wishing for the impossible?
Have I been kidding myself?
Have I been wasting my time for the idea of my happiness?

What if all this time, the only reason was that he didn’t love me?
What if all this time, I’ve been dreaming?


She said she saw him with others.
Yes, I too shared a fragment of my life with someone.
Someone who in the end only made me love him more.
Someone who in the end only made me wish for that happiness, yet again.

Does he share his smile with those others?
Does he share his laughter with them?
Does he share his stories, his tears, his uneasiness, his turmoils?
Does he share his heart to them?


What if it’s all true?


“Aarggh….. Stop your whiny ass, Ret!”
“Get a grip of yourself.”
“He doesn’t love you, period.”
“It’s time you move on and wipe that sulky face off of you.”
“You’re not doing anybody any good.”
“There are millions of other guys out there. And if you don’t try to find yourself one right now, you might never will.”
“Shop around. Get as many door prizes on your way before you hit the jackpot. Before you get the grand prize.”


It’s such a slap on my face.
It’s cold, bitter, and harsh.
And what’s worse, my sister didn’t say all these words.

I did.

DAMN YOU!!!

Damn you for appearing in my life.
Damn you for turning my life upside down.
For making my life miserable.
For tearing my life apart.
For causing me more heart burns.
For making me weak.

Damn you for letting me love you.

Damn you for not loving me back.


And…

Damn you!!!
For I can’t not love you.

Karma

What is “Karma”?
Some belief? Or is it a real thing?


I didn’t believe in Karma.
Until one day, it changed my life completely.

The sky was blue that day.
And the sun still shines brightly when we were brisk walking at the pedestrian.
It was blazing and I couldn’t help but think, what if, the sun just disappear once in a while. What if, we could have one cool and breezy morning.

My wish was granted.
The clouds moved closer together, inching towards each other, blocking the sun.
I thought, “What a nice change. Let’s see how long this cool breezy could last. One or two minutes should do.”

Nope.
It lasted longer.
Much longer.

Try five hours.

The first one minute was quite enjoyable. I never liked the cold. I prefer slightly warm weather. But the scorching heat was unbearable, and it was actually nice not to see the sun for a while.

The second minute was still okay, but I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable, since it was soon very windy. The wind blew harder than usual.

The third minute up to the 300th was very uncomfortable. I just realized, it turned out, I didn’t really enjoy the change. I had to hold my breath because otherwise, strong wind will blow up from beneath me, lifting my skirt (this is probably what Bruce Almighty might do), forcing me to squint my eyes, because otherwise, sand will fly right into my eyes, forcing me to tighten my jacket.

After 5 hours, I decided I'm not gonna like the new weather. It’s just not for me.
After 5 hours, I realized I was sentenced with Karma.

And now, I like the old weather better.
It suits me fine…

The Two Bitches and Their Gay Friend

It was a Saturday afternoon that we arranged to meet.
Boy, the people at Coffee Bean never knew what hit them.

It was a loud pack. Well, at least two of them were loud. And one just kept on cursing “Maless banget…”

No, it was not a regular pack. It was not even formed before that very day.
But somehow the chemistry said it was just right. (Right guys?)

Maybe because the three of them were singles. Were they happy? Well, judging from their loud laughs, they must be. Or maybe they were simply on drugs.

I don’t know.

That’s singles’ life I was talking about.

I can’t complain.
Single is what I chose to be, for the time being, at least.

And thankfully, I still have my other two single friends who share the same interest in laughing matter: gay in tight shirts, big mommas, and last but certainly not least: ourselves.


I missed someone so much that day.
Someone I hold so dearly in my heart. Someone who always seems to succeed in ripping my heart, torn my feelings into pieces. Someone I cannot seem to forget. Someone I cry over days and again.
Someone I can’t seem to get enough of.

That someone made me realize maybe it’s times like this that I need.
Just loud conversations and terribly shocking laughs over nonsense. Something to get by.
Something to buy me happiness, or is it for me to fast forward everything, so that the night will fall soon, and so that I can get back to my bed, get back to my own dreams of happiness?
So that I will forget my problems?



The pack kinda makes me feel like we were on one of the episodes of Sex and the City.
No, the gay friend I was referring to was not gay. At least he didn’t admit it, hahaha…
No, I’m pretty sure he’s not.
As for me and my loud half, well, we’re merely two lonely people, trying to whisk away our loneliness by being the loudest ones in the building.

The sight makes you remember that Carrie and her friends always make time to meet regularly, once a week, just to talk about nonsense.


Well, in that case, the two bitches and their gay friend will meet again.
They will torture everyone. Just for the sake of their own peace of mind.


Cheers guys, see you soon.

(To K & Ar: Thanks for the other day, guys. I had the best time with you.)

Sigh of Relieve – dedicated to K

Sigh…..

It’s a sigh of relieve.

I read K’s blog.
And I really could understand her turmoil.

When your mind and your heart conflict, there’s no easy way to know which one is wiser.


Love messed you up in such a way that you think you can never bounce back.
If only Love is Cupid and not Aphrodite.
There will be no jealousy; there will be no possessiveness; no heart breaks.
And last, there will be no conflicting feelings. No turmoils.

And LOVE, will become bland.


Sigh.
Yes…


If you’re hurting, if you’re reeling with happiness, that’s your risk and reward.
But Love is a Heart game, not a Mind game.

Listen to the hot babe, Aphrodite.
Love is about roller coaster feelings, love-hate relationships, happy-tear jerking experiences, and all the sorts.

Jump into it.
When you’re lucky, you’d fly and you will scream out “Geronimo”.
When you’re not, you’d cry for two days non-stop (and that’s the most).

But it’s worth the shot.


And if you’re still wondering now, take a deep breath and sigh…
For we all will sigh along…

Pictures...

The picture moved slow. It was shaded grey and blue and white. Maybe this is what dreams must be like in 3D.

A lady was sitting in a park bench, watching the crowd, the passer-bys. Her eyes fell to a young family walking towards her. Young, happy family.

The father looked familiar. She kept searching in her head for his data file. The two children; the older one is a son, he looks just like his father, a bit shy and bookish. But his eyes emanates strength in them. The younger one, a cute little girl. Her eyes sharp, and they showed brilliance. She is far more lively than her brother. She’s fair skinned and blushing red all over from running too much.

The lady kept looking and finally her eyes met the wife’s. She kept looking for any signs of warmth towards her. There were none. They did not know each other.

The family was happy. And they walked passed her as if she was invisible. As if they didn’t know her. They didn’t. At least most of them didn’t.

The father glanced sideways, and his eyes met hers. They were locked for a second or two. A tiny smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. And he moved on.
He did know her. He did. Too well, in fact.
And her search in her data file was complete. She recognized him.

It was a face she buried in her memories years back. A face she strived to forget. A face she thought she’d never see again, yet she did.

He was happy. He had a beautiful and happy family.
She was happy. She finally could get over him. And moved on with her life.

The lady stood up, glanced at the young family one more time. The husband saw hear leave and smiled at her. She smiled back. For the last time.
She walked farther from them.

Then suddenly, the picture went blank.
She woke up. She was inside her own dream. Or was it?


She realized, all she wishes now is for him to be happy.
Even if she’s not in the picture.
Even if she has to remain as a stranger.
Even if it means she shatters her lifetime dream, and make do with the new ones.
Even if it means she cannot hold him by her side, forever.

But she will stock bits of memories of him in her head. And in her head, she will play her own little version of their happiness.

In her head alone, he will be happy, with her…

My Prayers

Dear God,

I’m kneeling before You.
Surrender at Your mercy.

Please forgive me for I have sinned.

Today will be the day that I will open a new page in my life.
Today will be the day that I will pull the curtains for the show is over.
The main character died. He killed himself.
Leaving one big mess in the twisted plot.
Leaving a crying ragged woman widowed.

I have for so many days forgotten You.
I have neglected Your words.
And I have for so many days asked You for what I want, and not for what I need.

Today, I’m humbled.
For I have sinned.
For I am a mere dust to You.
For I am nothing.


Dear God,

Please show me the way.
For I am blind.

Lend me Your hand, and I shall take it.


Dear God,

Please hear my prayers.

Diary of a Loser

Monday.
Today went regular. Nothing really sparked. Work’s so-so. Just like any other regularly mundane work day. It’s the start of the week and I can’t feel I’m lifted up, energized. Or whatever you call it. Sigh… it’s gonna be a hell of a looong week.

Tuesday.
A friend came over. Caused hell of a commotion at the office. Man, oh man, was everyone thirsty or what? Well, he looked “calendar boy” handsome and everyone just couldn’t stop gawking at him (who can blame them, huh?) Aarrgh… I’m soo embarrassed… Well, at the very least, that put us all in good mood and so I didn’t mind leaving the office at such late hour.

Wednesday.
Shucks. It’s hectic Wednesday again. Lotsa things to do. My most favorite workday. Nothing really important, but good enough that I don’t sit idle like any other day. Tried forcing my fat lazy ass to join the gym. Just 15 minutes on the treadmill and I already lost my breath. No problem, just do the squats and some other sculpting routine. Pathetic. It’s my first day and I didn’t even impress myself.

Thursday.
Business is looking up? Dunno. The JV between our mother company with some rich Italian company came as a shock late last year. But hey, it’s really nothing we could complain about, so what the heck. It’s not like we’re not confused enough, but oh well… It’s just gonna be another day sitting in the same desk for some other company. C’est la vie, ma chérie…

Friday.
Oh, I was so excited bout this gym thing (we’ll just see how long it will last, okay?). Friday mornin’! Always a good day to pump some of your abdomen muscles. Yeah, baby, check me out in 2 months, whoah… Lunch at Ambassador. The gals got TransTool for the office and I got some Whiskas for my babies. Went to EX to meet with BAA, FN and A in the evening. Talked about PR stuff over bowling. Hah, we only chatted for like 30 minutes on the program and the rest, well, let’s just say the bowling place is no place for any meetings to run effectively. Man, I had a sore fist for that incident. Turned my mood all off. That b**ch.

Saturday.
A lonely pathetic bitch feels sorry for herself. Saturday morning rituals. Wash the car, make the bed, clean up the room, get ready for CCF. I don’t take up the class anymore, I just show up to meet the gals. Another pathetic point of mine. Damnit, I feel so desperate. Good thing I’ve got plans to meet up with K. Lunch it is. Lotsa laughs. Just what I need. Hey, thanks, gal. Left PS at 7 and home. Dang it, the night’s still young and I was already tucked in before 10. Singles’ life sucks.

Sunday.
Today started late. Lazed around all day. Hoping the Jane Fonda routine would lift my mood. It didn’t. What happened that Friday night still lingered. Couldn’t shake it off. I feel my blood boils every time I’m reminded of it. I know I don’t have any rights to be upset. And that’s just worse. Why can’t I have a f**king happy life? Got through today with hundreds of sms. Thanks guys. a friend called in the afternoon. Woke me up. I hate taking afternoon naps, and I hate the interruption more. But this time, it was good. Got to read some books. Didn’t leave the house for one bit.
I can’t accept the fact that I’m so unlovable that the only one person I wanna be with does not want to be with me. That I feel certain extreme measures has to be taken and yet I know the possibility of them succeeding is next to nil. That I’ve gone from a good person to bad, then worse, and now, pure evil, only for the sake of good companionship gone awry. I hate myself lately. I hate myself for every single day of my life from that particular point of time to indefinite period.



Ladies and Gentlemen, this is my diary, and this is my life.

I AM that loser.

Once again, I'm hurt.....









And I will do nothing about it.
Just let it be.

A Wanna-Be

I read my best friend’s blog that she posted yesterday.
I read my other best friend’s short story that he sent to me this morning.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer.
And I’ve always considered myself talented (or something to that extent).
People (my friends and my family, of course) even encouraged me to pursue this dream.

But suddenly after I finished reading their composition, I feel like such a wanna-be.
Nothing more than a dreamer.

A mere sidekick in one of those heroic stories, someone who is there for the sake of her presence. She doesn’t do much. She just lives up the day by her wit.
She just dreams to become the real hero, but at the end of the day has to wake up to the fact that reality bites. That she’s only good for swinging canes and not really bash the bad guys with swords.


I read a line by Eleanor Roosevelt last night (thanks for the book, Rie…).
“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent”

I was lifted up for a moment. I should try and try and try to better myself.
But what if it’s my own inner self that shouts “Hey, you’re no good, man!”
What if all this time, I’ve been undermining myself? What if all this time, I’ve been doing everything that it takes to sabotage my own personal development?

What if I’m the reason to my own low self-confidence? To all my failures?


Darnit…


I hate waking up startled like this…

Happy Birthday to You...

Happy birthday, A…

Hope you get everything you wish for.
Everything you strive for.

Most of all, hope you will be happy.

Dream what may become

I dreamed you were crying.
I dreamed I was crying along with you.

Was it just a dream?
Or was it a reality?

Whatever it was, I wish I could just get up or pick another scene.
A much happier scene.

I dream us smiling.
I dream us on the swings, laughing with the soft rustling wind on our hair.
I dream us old and grey, holding hands…

Can I wake up? Knowing that the scene is far from becoming…
Or is it, and I’m just to drowsy to realize it?

I don’t know…

Maybe I should just get back to my dreamless sleep…

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!!!