The sun don't shine
The moon don't move the tides,
to wash me clean

Sun don't shine
The moon don't move the tides,
to wash me clean

Why so unforgiving and why so cold
Been a long time crossing Bridge of Sighs

Cold wind blows
The Gods look down in anger,
on this poor child

Cold wind blows
And Gods look down in anger,
on this poor child

Why so unforgiving and why so cold
Been a long time crossing Bridge of Sighs

 

I'm not saying that I'm a Democrat but I do think it's cool that I share the same birthday as Barack Obama, possibly the next President of the United States. We were even close to being born on the same minute....years apart obviously! :)

It is a cyclone ride since I took a break from teaching. From the unrestricted number of sleeping hours I get and the Kate Moss size financial budget, I have learned to brace myself for more to come. There are moments that I would smile like a Care Bear because of the abundance of love from my family and friends; then there are times that I sulk like a wombat because of impending bills. Yesterday, I decided to hang out in 14th Street to see the fashion must have’s for Spring. However, the ridiculous prices sent me packing to Barnes and Noble wherein for three hours, I read four books. I must agree that being on a cash diet lets you do great feats such as reading to tame the grumbling hungry stomach.

 

In your life, you will meet a lot of people. Ones with whom you shared something special, ones who will always mean something. There’ s the one your first kissed, the one you first loved, the one you first made love to, the one you put on a pedestal, the one you’re with…and the one that got away.

 

Who is this, the one that got away? I guess it’s the perfect person with whom everything was great everything was perfect but the timing was just wrong. There was no fault in the person, there was no flaw in the chemistry but the cards don’t fall the right way, I suppose.

Do you ever get that feeling that you are so alone that you can hear damn well your heartbeat?

Do you ever feel that the world has designated a special nook for you that no one can see or notice?

Do you ever think that you’re cursed with inevitable unfortunate things to last a lifetime?

Do you conclude that no one can and never will understand how you really feel inside?

Do you tend to rationalize that every occurrence in your life is a matter and cause and effect?

Do you flourish and wallow at the same time in any emotion that you seem fit for the day?

On the 6 train, I was deep in my thoughts on what I should capture in the Philippines’ Independence celebration. I was contemplating on what is essential to me as a Filipino who chose to work in the Big Apple. Do I deserve to make a video about it knowing I have been out of touch with my culture for a long time? Would I sound credible to talk about Filipino customs that I do not observe regularly? Why do I have doubts that I feel like a lost "Pinay"; stranger to the heritage I was born and raised with when I decided to live in another country?

I was at Madison Avenue with my reliable director. While he was recording parts of the parade of Filipinos proudly waving the flag, I was at the back too shy to even talk to my fellow countrymen. I heard them speak in my native tongue which was an irony to my lips laden already with the New York "Twalk". It was indicative that the day would be hopeless for me. Suddenly, my Hispanic Director called me to go in front to catch a better view of the parade. In truth, I was shaking like a leaf unknowing what I would feel upon being so close to proud Filipinos. Then it hit me like a boomerang! I am here, I am a Filipino! I may have been absent in so many celebrations, I may have more friends from other races now, I may have been speaking English more yet I made it a point to come here – to this Avenue that is being graced by my rich Filipino Culture. I have returned HOME.

June 12, 2008

 

Dear Kitty Cat,

Today I walked on the Brooklyn Bridge. A crazy thought just popped in my head; urged me to "travel" from Manhattan to Brooklyn. The scorching heat did not bother me since my forehead was already crisp from last weekend’s events. I stopped in the middle of bridge to catch my breath and to buy that $2 water from a guy with gray eyes. We had small talk and I suggested that he moved his spot closer to Manhattan since the other vendor sold out all his water bottles. Kitty, it is nice to exchange pleasantries with people you exactly don’t know. There’s a very slim possibility that I will see that man again.

 

This writer is generally nice. On most days, she feels the joy of breathing, the exuberant touch of a loved one and watching the changes as the world twirls on its axis. Most of her interactions with people are pleasant and she can be very humorous at times. During these times, she could compose the sweetest sonnets and write about the rainbows and the chirping bluebirds. Laughter envelops her and she smiles to show that dimple on her left cheek.

However, this writer can be very irritable. A simple issue can trigger her temper and anyone who crosses her path can bear witness to that distinct pout and scowling face. She blames the irks that she meets when she goes for her regular walks around Manhattan. The extent of her callousness stretch to her own writings. She would write the darkest, most sinister and depressing piece and still feel alright. When this happens, this woman is really having a bad hair day.

I was born into a country that is a certified soap opera fanatic. From drama series from America, Mexico, Spain and Korea- we stayed glued to the tube. Our days are incomplete when we missed the next episode and the world defies gravity especially during the grand finale. My grandmother who forgets that I do not drive our white car anymore can retell with 100 percent accuracy the recent events from her favorite afternoon soap. I cannot blame her- soap operas were created to whisk us away from reality to fantasy/ perfect/ love conquers all realm for a mere half hour. Who does not dream of being a simple person with secret magical powers; a woman scorned then found happiness by forgiving the man of her dreams or perhaps a man having it all after horrendous tortures in the hands of his enemy? Each one of us wants to affiliate ourselves with these characters and experience the enigma and resolution of our travails. However, as much as these television shows bring short-term joy, there would always be a wake up call for us that we live in an imperfect world. We have bills, difficult bosses, box- type apartments and tough neighborhoods. I am one of thousands who gravitate to intriguing dramas yet I always think that most of the scenes are impossible and extreme that it bends the realms of reality.