Wow.! You're welcome. I'm glad to be of help.
The Correspondence
Dear You,
Please do not think that I have, even for a second, forgotten my quest to finally find you, to finally find us. I do get it. I do get why I haven’t met you yet. I sometimes find myself uttering defensive statements like, “I don’t see myself getting married in the near future, not even in the far future.” Or “I am content with being who I am, single and fabulous.”, and honestly, I mean them. Not to be defeatist or anything, but I find it imperative for me to first be happy with being with myself before I, or should I say, we can delve into the matter that is US.
You have become my most cherished thought, my constant answer to the question, “What else should I look forward to?” At this point, besides true financial freedom and everything that comes with financial wealth, I have achieved what I’ve planned to achieve at twenty six. Yes, there are a few imperfections that are in need of tweaking, and yes, there are bumps on the road that may feel and look more like roadblocks than bumps, but they don’t bother me anymore. I don’t see them as roadblocks but as guides. These guides, I believe, will lead me to you.
Here comes the romantic part of the letter. It is meant to be a love letter after all, for you, and about you. I know that either way, with love, you should be able to accept me for who I am, and by now, it is quite clear that who I am and who I will be is something that I have control over. I have come to love myself because I want to give justice to my love for you. I don’t want to be a hypocritical lover because hypocritical love is the worst love. I breathe for myself, live for myself and love for myself not to be selfish but to be able to selflessly surrender to you… at my best. There is no rush for you to get here and well, there is no rush on my end to get there either. You should probably take your time in the same way that I am taking mine.
Be still, even if we are reminded daily of the dilemma of how short life is. I don’t deny it. It is very true. Yet I feel that we don’t need to cram. Remember that when we finally meet, (notice how I say “WHEN” and not “IF” – remember, even FOREVER is a prescriptive term.), we’ll be ready with an endless number of stories to share and the gift of insurmountable eagerness that will get us through memory loss, pain and all things that are ironic in life.
Our hearts beat with a rhythm; listen to our unfinished melody, soon, your words and my words will rhyme. Take care of your heart for me, and I promise, I will take care of mine.
Love,
Me
On Playing your Part, Self-righteousness and Freedom of Speech
When you do your part, you don't earn the right to judge people on the basis of what you do. Why? Because that is YOUR part. You don't go around making yourself the standard. Their part, no matter how seemingly insignificant to you, may be most significant to another. When you volunteer for something, and when you feel so selfless helping strangers, you do not become better than people who choose to take care of their family, or their friends. You choose your part. No one imposes it on you.
Everyone has the right to say their piece. There is no blame per se, there is a discussion. An analysis of what could have been done, an expression of what one feels. This is why the Freedom of Speech is a right, not a privilege. There is no prerequisite but yes, there are limits.
And this is not to say that we know better, it’s just that when things like these happen, you rely on people who specialize on resolving these kinds of situations. When they don’t deliver, you resort to discussions not because you want to put them down but because you want an explanation. After all, everyone’s accountable for their actions.
They need to explain because they were the ones who had business there. I just follow this logic, If you’re a lawyer, would you expect the police to do your pleading for you? No. And when you fuck up, can you prevent them from saying that if only you wrote your Complaint more meticulously, the case couldn’t have been dismissed?” NO. Why? Because that is your turf, and they expect you to deliver.
Self-righteousness is a slippery slope. Being affected by a tragedy that killed people is not self-proclaimed patriotism, nor is it an instant acquisition of crisis management knowledge. It's instinct. When someone dies, you care... not because of anything else, but because we all are here to live and we should be able to do EVERYTHING to ensure that we live. This is not being accusatory, this is probing.
Let people talk. Let everyone do THEIR part. Anyway, you're talking too. Who are you to judge?
Everyone has the right to say their piece. There is no blame per se, there is a discussion. An analysis of what could have been done, an expression of what one feels. This is why the Freedom of Speech is a right, not a privilege. There is no prerequisite but yes, there are limits.
And this is not to say that we know better, it’s just that when things like these happen, you rely on people who specialize on resolving these kinds of situations. When they don’t deliver, you resort to discussions not because you want to put them down but because you want an explanation. After all, everyone’s accountable for their actions.
They need to explain because they were the ones who had business there. I just follow this logic, If you’re a lawyer, would you expect the police to do your pleading for you? No. And when you fuck up, can you prevent them from saying that if only you wrote your Complaint more meticulously, the case couldn’t have been dismissed?” NO. Why? Because that is your turf, and they expect you to deliver.
Self-righteousness is a slippery slope. Being affected by a tragedy that killed people is not self-proclaimed patriotism, nor is it an instant acquisition of crisis management knowledge. It's instinct. When someone dies, you care... not because of anything else, but because we all are here to live and we should be able to do EVERYTHING to ensure that we live. This is not being accusatory, this is probing.
Let people talk. Let everyone do THEIR part. Anyway, you're talking too. Who are you to judge?
On the Manila Hostage-taking Tragedy
First, this whole taping someone who's dying / who died has got to stop. Seriously. Second, I still don't understand why the police had to focus on their conspiracy theory re: the hostage taker's brother. Third, if only they watched Denzel Washington's The Negotiator, they could have at least known that CALCULATED and ...not POINTLESS PATIENCE is the key. Fourth, it seemed like they didn't take the threat seriously and tried to intimidate someone, who obviously was ready to die, by harassing his brother. Fifth, from experience, pag may galit, BAWAL MANG-AGIT! Today is a sad day.
Let's all pray for the souls of the victims and pray harder that everyone learned a lesson or two from this unfortunate event. Please, please, please try to train our Crisis Management Teams more thoroughly. Oh and media, how do I start?
Let's all pray for the souls of the victims and pray harder that everyone learned a lesson or two from this unfortunate event. Please, please, please try to train our Crisis Management Teams more thoroughly. Oh and media, how do I start?
The (Turn)Around
One chance after another,
I waited, and hated.
One mistake after another,
I remembered and regretted,
One moment after another,
I faded.
One chance,
One Mistake,
One Moment.
For the last time,
Turn this all around.
Or I will never be around.
The Missed Point
"It wasn’t just my imagination, it was ours.
Yours and mine are these daydreams,
Delusions and memories, blurred into one
Portrait of the (be)loved, fading
into the intricacies
of our creative non-fiction.
Open your eyes, or open mine.
Look at me, stare (at you) blankly.
I miss missing you.
I miss missing you
miss me.
All because I missed.
All because we missed."
-@legallyblunt, "The Missed Point"
5 July 2010
#thoughtbubbling #realityeverafter #Photords #introvertmindextrovertheart #LegallyBlunt #Photography #blackandwhitephotography #BlackAndWhite #photooftheday #digital #digitalphotography #monochrome #Poetry #TheStalkerPicsSeries #LegallyBlunt #LegallyGrunt #RealityEverAfter #writersofinstagram #fastfoodfiction #buttonpoetry #listen #findyourvoice #instapoet #shortform #instapoetry
Confessions of a Closet Daddy’s Girl
A Father's Day Entry
One of my most favorite memories that relates to my dad was a scene that happened when he wasn’t even there. I think I was around four years old, when my mom was giving me a bath and I was being a bratty kid. Obviously, I wasn’t enjoying being bathed because I was sleepy, and my mom was aggressively pouring water all over me and scrubbing me. In that moment of desperation, and in tears I shouted, “Isusumbong kita kay Daddy!” I don’t know why I thought the statement could save me, but somehow, I think even as young as I was at that time, I just knew that my Dad will always come through for me and will always save me from whatever shit I get into… no matter what.
Growing up, I was a good daughter; I never disobeyed my parents, and NEVER did anything to jeopardize the “future” that my Dad would always rave about when he’d talk to me about school and my grades. I have only been spanked twice by my Dad, the first time was when I got a low grade in my Christian Living periodic exam in grade school. Well, it wasn’t really low, it’s just that I ranked third in that exam. The second was when I got into a fight with my brother and sister and he woke up, not too happy about it. He used his belt on all of us. My brother and my sister got hit more, but only because they were more “pasaway.” But if there’s anything endearing about this whole “spanking” thing, it would be the fact that my Dad always explained why he had to do it. He made us sit on his lap, would ask for a kiss and explain, carefully why we deserved to be hit. Surprisingly, I did understand. Years later, I would always remember those moments and remember the valuable lessons that he taught me in relation to them. The first time, he wanted make me understand that it is acceptable to not always be on top, but what wasn’t acceptable was to not give it your all. The second time, he needed me to remember that my brother and my sister will make mistakes, big and small ones, but I should never ever give up on them in the same way that they shouldn’t ever give up on me. He wanted us to learn the importance of family.
My Dad is the only one who can get away with giving me the nickname Tabachoy without me taking offense. He’s the only one who can call me Frenchie Dy, Marissa Sanchez and sometimes, Marissa Delgado, when he feels that I’m fastly gaining weight, he’s the only one who can call me Heidi Yorac after i get a haircut with bangs, Dennis of GhostFighter when I got a layered haircut and Nazareno when I had my hair curled. He’s the only one who can caution me from “artsy looking, madungis guys” because he thinks they look patapon… notwithstanding that fact that he isn’t good-looking at all. He’s the only one who has accepted my fashion eccentricity enough that when I was walking with them in the mall with my skirt half-lifted all the way to my butt, he didn’t tell me because he thought it was “my style.”
To my friends, my Dad is the cool one. He embarrasses me every time he gets the chance and they love it. One time, my Dad was teasing me about my weight in front of the Perksquad and to my defense I said, “Wow, nagsalita naman ang payat.” I thought I won, but he had to give me a really malupit comeback, “Ako may asawa na, e ikaw?” Personal attack! He loves my friends, he genuinely cares for them and never forgets to ask about them when he gets the chance. My Dad values the simple things in life, he is not a big fan of grandiosity but he only heeds to materialism when the ones being material are US. He’d choose Argentina Corned beef over all the imported ones, he’d be most happy with LIGO / MEGA Sardines and never enjoys Spanish sardines. His simplicity just inspires me and reminds me that nothing matters more than contentment and love.
Most importantly, my Dad has taught me to NOT BE AFRAID TO FAIL and COMMIT MISTAKES. He has fallen gazillions of times, and I have never seen him resign to the idea of hopelessness. He has always been calm, occasionally making fun of the gravity of the situation. He’d shrug his shoulder and move on. He taught me to be strong but acknowledge that there will be times that you will have to be weak with God. He taught me to have FAITH.
My Dad is not perfect, far from it. But his imperfections do not offset his acts of love for us. His willingness to sacrifice and to endure even the most difficult of challenges for us gives me hope. He inspires me to reach for my dreams because I know that he wholeheartedly believes in me. He’d often tell me how proud he is of me but really, I am prouder to have the best father a daughter could ever have. I get the occasional pat on the back and big hug and they mean the world to me.
To my Dad, Happy Fathers’ Day! I love you and I could never thank you enough for loving us and taking care of us. I promise to make you prouder, and to take care of you, Mom, Ichie and Hazel when it’s my time to do so. Don’t worry I don’t plan to get married when I’m 28 nor when I’m 29 (You and Mom should acknowledge that your argument re: the right age to marry was just pointless.) and when I find the right man, I will make sure that he will live up to the very high standards you’ve set. Oh, and I promise that he wouldn’t be madungis!
On Living With Pain
So, you get hurt. Big deal. One thing I learned about living is that, “Pain is inevitable.” The moment you are able to come to terms with that, you realize that pain, really, is just a wonderful front act. You get hurt, once in a while, with some periods more painful than the others. The danger really is, not in not enduring pain, developing an addiction to pain. When you look forward to it, when you see it as an exciting turn of events, that is when the real problem arises.
If pain is the only thing that we are looking forward to, we need to be reminded that this is not the end point. We need to believe that we are worthy of happiness, the kind of happiness that just brushes off the occasional hurt. We should never be scared of happy endings, we should never doubt that happy endings are just that, happy endings.
Not so long ago, I got into a discussion about retail and wholesale happiness. I think, it shouldn’t be an issue. I think that we should take happiness as what it simply is… pure and unadulterated happiness. We should enjoy it without fearing that at one point, it will stop. In reality, chances are, there will be pain. But happiness doesn’t stop when you’re in pain. In the same way that love does not disappear when the person you love end up hurting you. Happiness does not cease to exist, it just becomes more challenging to recognize and feel.
Be happy. Get hurt, and choose to be happy still. Only when you start letting pain get to you that you lose your chance to live. Believe and claim it.
Live with pain but don’t live IN it.
The Deviant Love
while we take quick glimpses and sideway glances.
Together, they dream of forever,
Yet we, for what seems like forever, dream of “together.”
They hold hands,
and instead, we hold hearts.
And when they make love,
we wait to see what love will make of us.
#thoughtbubbling #realityeverafter #Photords #introvertmindextrovertheart #BenCabMuseum #Photography #museums #paintings #photooftheday #digital #digitalphotography #Poetry #LegallyBlunt #LegallyGrunt #RealityEverAfter #writersofinstagram #fastfoodfiction #buttonpoetry #listen #findyourvoice #instapoet #shortform #instapoetry
What's the origin of your name?
Eunice fem. proper name, from L., from Gk. Eunike, lit. "victorious," from eu- "well" + nike "victory."
ZULEIKA
Gender: Feminine
Usage: Literature
Pronounced: zoo-LAY-kÉ™
Possibly means "brilliant beauty" in Persian. According to medieval legends this was the name of Potiphar's wife in the Bible. She has been the subject of many poems and tales.
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