Universal Recordbook

21 September 2013

I want to spend this day writing writing writing. Recording how I felt at this and that time. What certain things bring to mind and how shrewd most people were. As I have written most of the other days on my journal, I would write now, those that I have missed retelling. I would’ve wanted to describe in detail the world as I saw it. The things I actually saw and what thoughts they illicit from me. That was the hard part there. I could not put into record everything - what I heard and how delicious it was for me like how I enjoyed Miley’s Wrecking Ball playing on the radio because it was art. She was expressing her emotions and I visualized from the words and the sound, the fervor by which she sang it, that she was on the fields as the sun was just rising, the blades of green grass which touched her fingers were still wet with dew. She had her Hannah Montana hair on twin braids, falling on the blue  blouse concealeing her shoulder blades. I could only see her from the back, as if I was walking behind her a comfortable distance away. How selfish my intentions were for sharing this. Introspection revealed that I wanted to share this thought with someone, with anyone, because I wanted someone to see it exactly as I did and feel exactly the same way as I did. The least I demanded from the person I shared it with was energized agreement. What a bummer! I wanted another person to project what I was on her/himself. And so was I selfish.

I have all this thoughts but I don’t have anyone to share it with. Actually I am picky with whom I would share these matters with. So they are all there in my mind. I stay quiet and think now is not the appropriate time to give this remark. It doesn’t match the mood and it won’t be a hit. This extra cautiousness just shuts me up. If they let me talk, I may not shut up. I talked with Nica that way as I was matching her with Sir Mark. Wahaha! Without him even knowing Nica’s name, Nica knows a lot about him. She just keeps on asking about him. Isn’t that telltale of where her interests lie? So though she keeps on denying, I know. She must only be denying it for the sake of herself. The denial was mostly for herself; she couldn’t accept it when no one would be fooled by this denial.  I remember how she cuts me off when I was telling her the story of my day. I must have gotten too specific and into detail, she got bored with the story. That’s a communication tip for me. Also, my face is too transparent. Must be that it’s strong. Even until the tips of my hair, I am a story teller. I will be careful. Right now I am a mix of rawness and inspired sophistication. I hope it makes other people curious. It wouldn’t be fair if it was only I who was curious about others.

I read into everything, trying to ascribe meanings to everything. There was no and so it was for me. Some I had to hold on to until I got it, some I had to simply let go. What I had no skills about was to decide where an interest, a curiosity should go from the options there were. What was my priority? I had none so my mixed messages (words and body language) tire people out. Rare is the person in my present world sphere who loves challenges. (Paul maybe, because he finds work challenging. But even so, I may confuse him and he doesn’t care about this a bit.)

At times, I indulge in my out of body experiences. I try to see my daily life from the perspective of an observer; I was seeing myself as I was doing things.  At that point with Nica, I was too pre-occupied with myself. What mattered to me was hearing myself talk. I can’t even remember hearing myself talk. I was simply talking I forgot to listen to myself and to her. When conversation becomes a self exploit, those we talk to get bored. When our conversation partner starts to feel unimportant or was not made to feel special, they leave.

I also thought that God gave me a morsel of imagination. He also bestowed me potential for faith. Why shouldn’t I use both for my country? The stagnation, discontent, hopelessness, lavish authority and insecure selfishness reek - a malingering odor in an atmosphere where bahala na wafts. Here, minding oneself meant providing oneself with indulgence. I might call these assaults as I step out of the bus to a sidewalk of pressed feces and encounter tired faces, lost faces, defensive faces. If I let these images get to me, I might have left this country for good. If Filipino people were serious about anything, we were serious with not getting serious. I could imagine my country with dignified people, not a country where people were out for show with the hopes of getting a jacket and 5,000 for looking good, being attractive or being entertaining. We would have a state of living where we inspire respect and not only project, but radiate humility. By simply hoping, and minding my world, God will make my faith grow. It no longer matters to me what You make me do. There are no critical and menial tasks. They are all Your trust which we are to respond to.