today's 'eye-openers'

from somewhat trivial events that happened in the office today, i drew these "conclusions:"

* if being accepted by a group means having to conform to the group's wishes (e.g. dressing up in the same colour clothes, following what they want even if it's heavy on your conscience, etc.), then count me out because it's total BULLSHIT! i have a brain of my own so i'm not gonna rely on yours!

* i'd rather be in the company of friends who allow me to shine despite my eccentricities than be with people who are narrow-minded and do not respect individuality.

was hibernating but now looking forward to a new season

it's been a while since i last put down my thoughts into words. i don't know what happened. it was either there was too much to think about that i didn't know what to focus on first or there was none at all. it's been a blur lately...

anyway, i'm traveling. to a distant land. to a country bordering europe and asia. i'm excited at the myriad of possibilities, at where to go first, what to do there, what to wear. from the Net i've learned that it would be chilly & rainy there. these past few days (or rather nights), hours have been spent alternating between sleep and picturing out winter ensembles in my head. ahhhh...can hardly wait.

below is a travel article (the only travel piece so far) i wrote years ago before my "leap of faith" brought me to this land. preferring to be anonymous, i wrote it using a pen name. my apologies if what were once pictures are now represented by squares. here's the link: http://216.55.163.209/e-magazine/travel/travel_corregidor.html

History lessons in the Tadpole Island Text and photos by Zhia de Gracia

ARTILLERY found on the island. It was the middle of summer, yet the sweltering heat never dampened our spirits, or kept us from exploring Corregidor island. So, just as the sun rose one fine Saturday, my friends and I left Bacoor, Cavite and trooped to the CCP Complex on Roxas blvd. to catch the ferry that would take us to a guided tour of the place (that's more than a thousand bucks).

Corregidor comes from the Spanish word corregir, which means "to correct", as it served as checkpoint for ships going to Manila Bay during the Spanish and American occupations. It is situated between Bataan and Cavite provinces. Stretching three miles and facing the China Sea, it can be reached for an hour. Named "The Rock," the isle stands as a monument for the heroism and courage of Filipino and American soldiers who fought the Japanese forces. Apart from trees dotting its landscape, the tadpole-shaped rocky island, located 48 kilometers west of Manila, looked deserted from afar. Its stillness belies the fact that it was once a scene of fierce battle.

NATURE'S BEAUTY. City dwellers may hie off to Corregidor for a dose of the island's history or to take in its natural beauty. Touring the spot is like uncovering a hidden treasure in every corner. Scattered around are several cannons, wrecked barracks and damaged structures, which provide locals and tourists alike a peek of what occurred during World War II. Upon arrival, our group, a mix of students, yuppies and Japanese tourists, was whisked away in separate brightly painted buses, that were stark contrasts to the rustic environment. Perhaps to dispel any gloom the island's history brings.

First stop was the General Douglas McArthur Park where a statue of the legendary general stands. According to our guide, this was the spot where McArthur took a boat for Mindanao and later on to the land Down Under where he uttered his famous line, "I shall return." Here, we got off the bus for souvenir shots, among a series of camera-clicking sessions in the island. Corregidor is home to a number of artillery in different sizes, which you can touch and scrutinize. At the Japanese Memorial Garden, the Japanese tourists who were with us paid homage to their dead soldier-relatives/countrymen lying among the 4,215 Japanese troops killed in the fighting. The park has a Buddha and a Shinto shrine.

Next stop was the 6,000-square meter Filipino Heroes Memorial. It shows murals of battles fought by Filipinos from the 15th century until the present. The highlight of the tour was the Malinta Tunnel, which was first utilized as an explosives store and was later converted into a hospital. We entered it on foot and found ourselves in a moving lights and sound experience written and directed by National Artist Lamberto Avellana. War scenes are depicted at different points of the tunnel. We stopped at each station and listened to the stirring dramatizations of the war's major events. I admit I was jolted by the sound effects reproducing blasts and gunfire, and was misty-eyed when the Lupang Hinirang was played at the end of the show. We exited at the north entrance where the President Manuel L. Quezon Park can be found. This is where he was inaugurated as the President of the Commonwealth for a second term. They say spirits of Filipino, Japanese and American soldiers killed during the war roam the tunnel and the entire island. The tour proceeded to the ruins of army barracks, some partly curtained by trees yet still imposing. And, if you look hard enough, you can see a couple of monkeys darting from one tree to another. HUGE BARRACKS that once housed Filipino and American soldiers.

We also drove to the Pacific War Memorial constructed by the US Government in memory of American and Filipino soldiers, and the museum, which keeps relics and mementos of the war. Last stop was the lighthouse, rising 628 feet above sea level, before our lunch at the hotel. One of Corregidor's oldest landmarks, it offers visitors a magnificent vista of Manila Bay. Nearby is the souvenir shop where you can purchase a pasalubong or two for pals and family. My friends and I headed back to Manila with heads held high, mighty proud of being Filipinos. Of course, we vowed to return and stay a little longer - to swim in the sparkling waters, discover other scenic spots we missed during our maiden visit, and perhaps wander around in the dead of night to prove if indeed spirits of dead soldiers inhabit this historical treasure.

wishful / wistful thinking

today i imagine myself meandering through the streets of some foreign land, tracing and retracing my steps, keenly observing its people, soaking everything in: buoyant laughter tinkling in the air, virgin sights and novel sounds pervading my senses all together in a split second.

i'm curious as to how it feels to spend some "me time" like this - alone, an outsider, a new face, a total stranger possibly trying to get her life back on perspective or perhaps a lost soul desperately attempting to find herself in a maze of endless "what if's" and "why not's."

will it be easy? will i allow myself to cower in fear and doubt or will i instead choose to embrace the unknown with a trusting and hopeful heart? will i be able to taste freedom in its truest sense? will i find happiness that until now constantly slips through my fingers? will i discover inner peace?

a whisper of comfort touches my ear, bringing a smile to my lips, making my eyes crinkle for a little while.

i think i can do this: be a nameless and bold person for some time, live a life absolutely different from what i have right now, meet unfamiliar people, forge unusual friendships, create true and lasting relationships, never ever writing off that Big Guy up there from this journey of mine... ;-p

sandstorm

i was down with a cold two weekends ago and i attributed it to the sandstorm that oftentimes plagues this part of the world. i remember several months before at the bus stop, waiting for the bus (that usually doesn't come on time) for, i guess, almost two hours and the next thing i knew, i was sneezing and coughing for days.

others may have gotten used to "swimming in the sandstorm" but it has never been a boon for some people (especially me) other than the obvious tourist who gets awestruck (or in this case, "sandstruck") by it. it carries dust and small particles that get into the eyes, cause pimples and all sorts of respiratory tract infections and add inconvenience to an already-inconvenient life.

as i enumerated all the sandstorm's bad virtues in my head, i then got to pondering over the past and present sandstorms in my life. i remember feeling deserted, lost and alone, never knowing which step to take, whom to trust.

how many times have i cried with only my bedroom wall as sole witness? how many times have i asked Him for direction, for purpose --- for at least, a little inner peace?

i manage to cope up every single day but every now and then, i find myself cursing this country and some circumstances surrounding my daily existence for bringing out the worst in me. i've never known i'm capable of transforming myself from a carefree individual one second to a bitch the next. it's a complete revelation to me that my feelings and inner thoughts can dip and swerve so...

then the rainbow begins to peek out from behind a curtain of clouds just when you think it isn't there, decides to stay a little longer, bringing with it a feeling of contentment and gratefulness, and disappears again.

one thing's certain: life's sandstorms accord us wisdom, and cement and gradually build up that tiny bud of fortitude because as long as we're alive, life goes on...

shameless!

sometimes, you just wonder why some people are so brazen and insensitive when it comes to other people's feelings, rights and desire for peace and a little privacy.

take the case of my 2 roomies who party outside till the wee hours of the morning and come home only to wake us up with their misplaced tipsy laughter or by doing their laundry at 1 am!

where is the courtesy and respect expected of an educated person (in this case, a woman; no, two women who studied in a reputed college which, first and foremost, extols these virtues) for her fellow human being who is as tired as her and who is entitled to sleep as soundly as her to prepare for the next day's battle at the office?

why are they so callous as to disregard good manners taught at home during the formative years and at school as early as nursery?

i thought good manners are the first mark of good breeding. in the case of the 2 roomies i am referring to, they may look sophisticated and educated outside, but inside the house, every inch of their bone is covered with shameless inconsideration towards others!

forgive my description but i loathe them because personally, there's no single excuse for being careless when it comes to minding your manners, even if it's as simple as lowering your voice and minding your footsteps once the night lights are turned off.

betrayal

at the end of the day, it really hurts to realize that there's no one whom you can trust.

okay, this is just an understatement because the truth is it's like having your heart squeezed so hard a thousand times that you are left gasping for air. that's how it feels.

it's a war out there. from now on, i think i have to distance myself a little from the people i deal with everyday to cushion myself from the vile insults and the air of hatred that permeate my surroundings.

i need to exercise caution when it comes to pouring out my innermost feelings & thoughts...

just be yourself - warts and all

today, i came across a saying which brought validation to my earlier "lamentations." the line goes like this or something similar to this: never explain yourself to anybody because the person who likes you doesn't need it and the person who dislikes you won't believe it.

how true. how very true!

sometimes, when we feel that we're so difficult to deal with or we're making other people's lives difficult, we exhaust all our resources just to prove to one person (or several) our good side --- of what we really are when we're not burnt out, when we're relaxed, when problems don't beset us, blah, blah, blah.

we scratch our heads and exert every effort to muster enough courage to justify even the minutest detail of our everyday life: rude actions, hurtful words, evil thoughts. of course, we are no saints and bad behaviour and negative reactions always overshadow the good ones.

there are instances when we get irritated or angry at the slightest provocation. we blow our top when we can't take it anymore. we're only human and "freaking out" is the best way to get rid of "toxic chemicals" and suppressed anger.

as the process (freaking out) subsides, we then realize that we're being unreasonable, so we start the vicious cycle of pleasing the ones we've hurt, explaining everything just to win them back...

i think, it's sometimes better to just gradually wean ourselves off that vicious cycle because those who love us will understand anyway and readily accept us after each "fall" --- warts and all.

yes, i don't have to explain myself to anyone. a hug or a kind word from a dear friend or a loved one mends what's torn, patches up what's broken. i'm normal...and just being myself.

masked / unmasked

it's evening once again.

i look myself in the mirror and apply cream on my face, each time dabbing away the variety of masks i wear during the day: smiley mask upon waking up in the morning to welcome a new day and to anticipate a hassle-free workflow in the office; a courage mask on the way to work to protect myself from insults and ostracism; a faith mask hoping that the day would end like i always wanted it to be - smooth, harmonious, spat-free, etc.

oftentimes though, careless and tactless judgments hurled against my person quickly cause the mask to break into tiny pieces and me to dissolve into tears.

slowly, it dawns on me that i'm only human, with true feelings, without a heart of stone.

i soon realize that i don't have to wear several masks to cover what's hidden inside. that i don't have to live my life according to what others perceive it to be. that i have to let my individuality or uniqueness shine through. that i don't have to suffer in silence just to please everybody. that i have the freedom not to conform to what society or people dictate me and not to compromise my ideals and principles. that i don't have to reduce myself to hypocrisy and lots of ass-kissing to earn goodwill and "pogi" points from someone. that i don't have to stoop down and become somebody's lapdog. no way, jose!

whether people like it or not, this is me and i wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's. so, it's either they bear with me and my full-of-contradictions / consistently-inconsistent personality or they better leave me alone, mind their own business and let peace reign.

don't coax me to bend to your unreasonable, unprofessional and partial rules which have nothing to do with work, i'd stay ten feet away from them. don't even utter chocolate-coated words to entice me to say "yes" to all your demands, they're nonsense and i tell you, i only kneel before Him. and, there's no use of pulling my leg, i'm not that gullible!

oh, it's evening once again. i turn my back on the mirror and proceed to my bed with a peaceful heart knowing that whenever i am judged harshly, i can always run to Him, imperfections and all, because He is always there not to make judgments but to pick me up and ease my burden...

misunderstood

i feel that everyone's ganging up on me. it's kinda quiet and deserted here...nobody understands me (my mood swings, quirks, idionsyncracies).

is it simply because we don't have the same frame of mind or does it have something to do with their shallow thinking or narrow-mindedness? i guess, the latter is more like it.

i don't want the spotlight, i'd rather stay in the shadows. i don't need praises & compliments, i prefer honest talks and unpretentious conversations. i crave genuine friendships and true friends, not meaningless alliances and hypocrisy. somehow, this is a tall order which is rarely found in this borrowed home / country of mine.

i miss my family who tolerates my tantrums and comforts me when the going gets tough / rough; i miss my friends who know me inside & out, who laugh at my sometimes-corny jokes, who share my tears, whose ideas / way of thinking / thoughts gel with mine. we're smart people, i know that...and smarties are hard to find nowadays.

how unfortunate of me to be working / dealing with people who don't have the sense to leave other people alone, who don't know the difference between tolerance and rudeness (except for a few).

on the other hand, i'm lucky because i have a handful of just-a-text-away / just-a-call-away / just-a-chat-away / just-an-email-away pals who are far more intelligent than all of them put together and who know the DIFFERENCE.

guess, only smart people understand smart people.

in a limbo

the thought of moving (or moving on) has enveloped my thoughts these past few days.

it brought me anxiety, fear and melancholy, rendered me sleepless...

as much as possible, i want to hold on to the usual, familiar things that form part of my mundane existence.

on second thought, it could be a sign of something wonderful, a snippet of bigger things to come, one of His showers of surprises...

keeping my fingers crossed.

first post

blog...hmmm...

friends have been egging me on to create one "since time immemorial" but i kept telling them that i'd rather write down my thoughts, feelings, ramblings, ruminations and what have you in a classic diary because i feel that the latter is more personal, more intimate.

i tried to keep my word though, promising myself to fill each diary page with writings every single day, but that promise soon vanished into thin air...everyday became every week then every month until the interest died down as i get tied down with work, domestic chores and my so-called social life which is often non-existent.

since the computer (or laptop) gets a huge chunk of my attention daily, i thought it would be wise to start blogging. cliche as it may sound, here i am, riding the bandwagon, following the path millions have trodden, keeping in mind what William Forrester said: "write from the heart."