I am beginning to wonder why I find it so hard to rouse myself out of bed these days. Is it because I feel so light lately (FYI for those who are not in the know: I am finally dieting), that even the mere idea of getting out of the house seems preposterous? Or is it because I am finally ready to admit that I am tired of the place I am headed to?
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I also wonder why my being on a diet is such a big deal around here. Yesterday, two of my officemates came up to me and kept snickering and giving me unsolicited advice like : don't starve yourself, it's not like you'll be committing a mortal sin if you eat chips, blah blah blah. This irks me. a lot.why do people feel the need to take it upon themselves to insinuate their petty little concerns into my life?
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So today, M told me 'You look better now. I think it's working.' Thank God. Not that I was about to give up on myself.
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Yesterday, too, my good friend, MP told me, ' Let's you and me get out of this dingy office.' Our office is anything but dingy but we decide to leave our cubicles anyway. We get two cups of free coffee from the vendo and step outside. We feel the cold air on our faces and remember that it’s almost January. We are suddenly pensive, as if someone, or something, is about to leave us.
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Speaking of departures, my supervisor up and left us. She is now working in the other site. Funny, when she was here, I wondered what I'd feel when her voice no longer existed for me. I was appalled by the fact that I didn't feel anything. Zilch. Nada. Zero. Then I remember - this is usually how i respond to departures, to inevitable losses. A barrier redeems itself in my mind, saying that it doesn't matter. Things will remain separated. I believe this, at first. Afterwards, on some random morning, while reading a book or staring at the living room lamp, I cry for no reason.
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A gem that I found through the poemhunter site. Written by Yehuda Amichai (a favorite of Langston Hughes), translated by Chana Bloch:
Forgetting Someone
Forgetting someone is like forgetting to turn off the light
in the backyard so it stays lit all the next day
But then it is the light that makes you remember.
--------------
When in doubt, restart
--------
I owe my father an apology for feeling, for the first time in my life, the need to be like other people. Is it really all that bad, Papa, to be on the safe side of things for once? (In my head, my father says, Surely you mean insipid. Foolish can be a good word. Not safe. Never safe.)
----------------
Someone sent me this email yesterday. It's an excerpt from one of Murakami's books, Kafka on the Shore:
"At any rate, you--and your theory--are throwing a stone at a target that's very far away. Do you understand that?"
I nod. "I know. But metaphors can reduce the distance."
"We're not metaphors."
"I know," I say. "But metaphors help eliminate what separates you and me."
A faint smile comes to her as she looks up at me. "That’s the oddest pickup line I’ve ever heard."
"There’re a lot of odd things going on---but I feel like I’m slowly getting closer to the truth."
"Actually getting closer to a metaphorical truth? Or metaphorically getting closer to an actual truth? Or maybe they supplement each other?"
"Either way, I don’t think I can stand the sadness I feel right now," I tell her.
"I feel the same way."
-------------
B told me this interesting anecdote (antidote?) yesterday about an ex-boyfriend of hers. I call it "Actual Conversation with a Lemming."
EB: Miss ko nang alagaan ka, puntahan ka senyo. Tapos nood tayong movie.
B: Yeah, but we can't do that anymore 'coz we have both moved on.
EB: Saan?
----------------
Marguerite Duras on desire:
"I acquired that drinker's face before I drank. Drink only confirmed it. The space for it existed in me. I knew it the same as other people, but strangely, in advance. Just as the space existed in me for desire. At the age of fifteen I had the face of pleasure, and yet I had no knowledge of pleasure. There was no mistaking that face. Even my mother must have seen it. My brothers did. That was how everything started for me-with that flagrant, exhausted face, those rings around the eyes, in advance of time and experience."
--------------
Check out Harvey Finkle's photographs in his series, The Readers:
--------------
It's always best to end things with a song:
Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses
U2
You're dangerous 'cause you're honest
You're dangerous, you don't know what you want
Well you left my heart empty as a vacant lot
For any spirit to haunt
Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey
You're an accident waiting to happen
You're a piece of glass left there on the beach
Well you tell me things I know you're not supposed to
Then you leave me just out of reach
Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey sha la la
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna fall at the foot of thee
Well you stole it 'cause I needed the cash
And you killed it 'cause I wanted revenge
Well you lied to me 'cause I asked you to
Baby, can we still be friends
Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey sha la la
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna fall at the foot of thee
Oh, the deeper I spin
Oh, the hunter will sin for your ivory skin
Took a drive in the dirty rain
To a place where the wind calls your name
Under the trees the river laughing at you and me
Hallelujah, heavens white rose
The doors you open
I just can't close
Don't turn around, don't turn around again
Don't turn around, your gypsy heart
Don't turn around, don't turn around again
Don't turn around, and don't look back
Come on now love, don't you look back
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna taste your salt water kisses
Who's gonna take the place of me
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna tame the heart of thee
---------------
Forgetting Someone
Forgetting someone is like forgetting to turn off the light
in the backyard so it stays lit all the next day
But then it is the light that makes you remember.
--------------
When in doubt, restart
--------
I owe my father an apology for feeling, for the first time in my life, the need to be like other people. Is it really all that bad, Papa, to be on the safe side of things for once? (In my head, my father says, Surely you mean insipid. Foolish can be a good word. Not safe. Never safe.)
----------------
Someone sent me this email yesterday. It's an excerpt from one of Murakami's books, Kafka on the Shore:
"At any rate, you--and your theory--are throwing a stone at a target that's very far away. Do you understand that?"
I nod. "I know. But metaphors can reduce the distance."
"We're not metaphors."
"I know," I say. "But metaphors help eliminate what separates you and me."
A faint smile comes to her as she looks up at me. "That’s the oddest pickup line I’ve ever heard."
"There’re a lot of odd things going on---but I feel like I’m slowly getting closer to the truth."
"Actually getting closer to a metaphorical truth? Or metaphorically getting closer to an actual truth? Or maybe they supplement each other?"
"Either way, I don’t think I can stand the sadness I feel right now," I tell her.
"I feel the same way."
-------------
B told me this interesting anecdote (antidote?) yesterday about an ex-boyfriend of hers. I call it "Actual Conversation with a Lemming."
EB: Miss ko nang alagaan ka, puntahan ka senyo. Tapos nood tayong movie.
B: Yeah, but we can't do that anymore 'coz we have both moved on.
EB: Saan?
----------------
Marguerite Duras on desire:
"I acquired that drinker's face before I drank. Drink only confirmed it. The space for it existed in me. I knew it the same as other people, but strangely, in advance. Just as the space existed in me for desire. At the age of fifteen I had the face of pleasure, and yet I had no knowledge of pleasure. There was no mistaking that face. Even my mother must have seen it. My brothers did. That was how everything started for me-with that flagrant, exhausted face, those rings around the eyes, in advance of time and experience."
--------------
Check out Harvey Finkle's photographs in his series, The Readers:
--------------
It's always best to end things with a song:
Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses
U2
You're dangerous 'cause you're honest
You're dangerous, you don't know what you want
Well you left my heart empty as a vacant lot
For any spirit to haunt
Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey
You're an accident waiting to happen
You're a piece of glass left there on the beach
Well you tell me things I know you're not supposed to
Then you leave me just out of reach
Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey sha la la
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna fall at the foot of thee
Well you stole it 'cause I needed the cash
And you killed it 'cause I wanted revenge
Well you lied to me 'cause I asked you to
Baby, can we still be friends
Hey hey sha la la
Hey hey sha la la
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna fall at the foot of thee
Oh, the deeper I spin
Oh, the hunter will sin for your ivory skin
Took a drive in the dirty rain
To a place where the wind calls your name
Under the trees the river laughing at you and me
Hallelujah, heavens white rose
The doors you open
I just can't close
Don't turn around, don't turn around again
Don't turn around, your gypsy heart
Don't turn around, don't turn around again
Don't turn around, and don't look back
Come on now love, don't you look back
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea
Who's gonna taste your salt water kisses
Who's gonna take the place of me
Who's gonna ride your wild horses
Who's gonna tame the heart of thee
---------------
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