I thought it was a futile attempt at patching up all the years ripped apart by indifference. But then again it felt reassuring that the quilt of love we once created hasn't torn to pieces after all.
The heart only reveals its true intentions after the one for whom it beats has gone and already moved on. It is like a child that unceasingly astounds with simple reasons and untainted judgment yet nevertheless rouses the most extreme of emotions, even those that are thought to be chained beneath the dark alleys of the soul.
It reminds of Mother, armed with support and, at the very least, acceptance. It never tires of pumping breath into life, and never regrets what it sacrificed. It admits without question and doesn’t refuse what it gets in return. It never complains, never criticizes, yet like the selfless being that it is, one day breaks down in tears, and despairingly give up.
It is like the teacher who could’ve walked on a fancier career path but had chosen to stay, if only to prove that the best lessons in life need not be magnificent.
It surprisingly resembles Father, the self-appointed guardian, the one who chastises with iron fist and speaks in harsh riddles; whose warnings come in bundles at embarrassing hours, at unexpected moments. Yet, as always, the austerity that truly masks concern imparts wisdom that comes just in time to rescue.
The heart with its many faces is both deceitful and honest. It only hollers “Help!” when it’s breaking, only talks when it’s hurting. It never grumbles ‘til its suffering, and never confesses ‘til it’s too late.
Muriel's Diary
On nights when we're not laughing over Seinfeld, Tad and I would visit his grandparents living just outside the city limit.
That night wasn't any different. My heart did triple back flips when his grandmother mercilessly teased us all throughout dinner, I failed to brush the color off my cheeks when his grandfather kept dropping hints of how lovely we look together, and Tad, being the unexpected clown that he was, just rumpled my scrupulous hairdo and smilingly said, "Ria?! She's the best twin sister I never had."
Like I said, that night wasn't any different, except that I was even more in love with him than ever.
It was a few hours after dinner and I'd finally decided to bare it all. I was just going to tell him the only one thing he didn't know about me but it felt like I was making a brutal confession. We were at the balcony, looking at a neighboring ranch shrouded in darkness. It wasn’t a view many painters would die for, but the half-hidden moon scarcely casting its eerie light on misty hillocks was enough to give the night its allure.
Something felt wrong.
The first splinters of rain fell like pixies dancing on raven’s wings. It was an ordinary rainy night, but it was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. "I have to tell you something," I said, barely taming my pounding chest. I heard Tad chuckle, he said he had something to confess too. I turned to look into his eyes and saw love locked in confused silence. Amid the sound of raindrops kissing the earth he told me he loved me. I would remember that night forever, even if the stars we wished to gaze at failed to come out, even if the rain somehow managed to trickle into my cheeks when hugged me goodbye.
Anyone Else But You
by Moldy Peaches
You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on your back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't, you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I will find my nitch in your car
With my mp3 DVD rumple-packed guitar
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu du
Up up down down left right left right B A start
Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
We both have shiny happy fits of rage
You want more fans, I want more stage
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Don Quixote was a steel driving man
My name is Adam I'm your biggest fan
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Squinched up your face and did a dance
You shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Here's to another year of adventure!
I have smelled it in the air, the pungent circumstances surrounding my ancestry, the moment I called my mom to announce my scheduled visit after a year of not seeing my family. Lord knows it took more than courage for me to go back and see my hometown, my old friends, and pieces of my life I chose to leave behind.
The place I called home appears the same, with its filthy streets and confusing transportation routes. Yet, God bless the legislators, it now looks like the city it once bragged to be, and the people…don’t even get me started on them. Certain things remain unchanged. Even those who I thought would move mountains have fallen of their lives’ cliff, and those who promised to excel had deteriorated, the rust of yester years eating up their existence from the inside.
Christmas seems to be the perfect excuse to once again venture out into my nightmare zone, to face those I swore to never get associated with, and to endure the various personalities of those I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to establish any kind of relationship with. But the holiday season that was supposed to lift my spirits up had me wishing I were somewhere else instead of solely bearing witness to the tireless family feuds and repetitious land title spats that usually end up in more trite discussions on sibling rivalry issues.
As much as I refuse to participate in this overrated domestic debate, I can’t help but capture the worst snapshots of the worst moments: of my mother ranting about my grandmother’s stubbornness, of my brother’s adorable yet insulting gibe, of my grandmother praising her three favorite children out of the 17 offspring she bore, of my Filipino relatives treating us differently because were “half-blood”, or the Chinese kin who never bothered calling because we don’t have pure Oriental blood flowing in our veins, of my father who is the object of both my affection and disappointment…
I thought I had made peace with this part of my life, the part that, I admit, I am painfully annoyed and ashamed of. I thought I had understood how my family worked, how my parents kept all the delicate secrets and spilled only those they wanted us to hear. I thought I could be satisfied with the small talks and occasional phone conversations, and the meaningless greetings that do not even account for the real feelings lurking underneath.
I wish I could tell them I’d walk through fire for them, but I know they’ll never be aware of the battles I go through everyday and of the fact that they are both my strength and weakness. I wish they’d welcome my questions but I’m sure they aren’t ready to give me their answers.
I don’t deny wishing of having been born to a less complicated, less extreme household where family members easily express and open up to each other, where relatives gather not to open fire but to bond over happy days, where misunderstandings are efficiently resolved.
Sometimes I think of cutting out the branches that links me to our small but complex family tree so that I won’t have to feel obliged to listen to my mom’s tirade, live out my dad’s too specific yet too high expectations, or engage in endless exasperating trash talks with my brother. But then again, I know I won’t be able to live without them, and it irritates me so much how they could make or break me.
As I write this, one of them is indifferently watching the holidays go by. I haven’t seen him for over a year now and all I have is a distant memory of him doing what he thought was best for me. I offer him nothing but love, hoping that he too was thinking of me praying in my old bedroom, in the sanctuary that once held the best-kept treasures of the past.
