Feeds RSS

17 April 2010

handheld soulmate

They say I'm a gadget freak. I'm not.
If you insist, I'd rather call myself phone freak. I love mobile phones. I especially loved the technology when they incorporated music and camera and whatnots.
Ever since 3G phones was introduced to this world, I never could be happy with one phone for more than 6 months. Pathetic? Not really... I just love them! And my phones adore me too. Seriously. Just don't count the one I lost in a cab, it wasn't 3G anyway.

Just like the quarterback in a feel-good movie who seems to date several girls, he'd end up finding his match in an unlikely person. Well, that´s me finding my one true love: the Apple iPhone.
I am so happy with this phone that I swear, I will never buy another one. I can´t describe the feeling when it is in my hands, when I use it to text, call, take snapshots, play music or games, and of course, to surf anytime I want. I´m not advertising iPhone, as if this testimony will entice my friends in buying it. Every experience is different for each person but I guess I can rest now in searching for my soulmate.


kiss kiss,
chiclois

29 March 2010

Her Love

We were inside the car then. We were supposed to go attend mass in the church but we did not go inside. For whatever reason, we hung out in the car instead. I was glad I joined her in the air-conditioned comfort than sitting in the warm pews on an afternoon mass.
She started talking about my brother.
Let me say that among us 3, he must be the most dear to her. He is the only boy, after all. I never felt the favorite when my brother wasn't born yet, but I can't say I'm the least liked either. But back when we were growing up, I was used to giving up what I want if she disapproves. I haven't been perfect. Oh, not at all. My sister was another case. She goes on with her ways even when our parents scolds her alot of times. Their words would fell on deaf ears.
Anyway, going back to the scene. She started talking about hoe my brother got scolded by the priest who also happens to be his teacher too. They were on a Youth Encounter, a retreat for the graduating class on school grounds. He and a few of his friends
were asked to leave. I can't remember the details anymore but as she talked about it, tears fell. She said that JB (my brother) was so worried that he would get scolded again by our parents this time. Of course, I cried too.
No one can't help but cry when it's your mother who's crying. As I look back, I can't remember the time she cried because of me. There were several times, my sister made her cry but that was before when we were kids and JM (my sister) can't help but enjoy youth.
The next time I saw my mom cry again was when she relayed to me about JM's problems with her family. It was so heart breaking because she never reveals her feelings to me that way. She tries to keep it cool, which I mistakenly thought before as being a little heartless. It was so wrong to think that way.
I said before that I haven't seen her cry because of what I did, but I wouldn't really know. She's good in keeping things to herself. I'm happy I still get to see her for who she really is --- a mother who only wants the best for her kids.
I love you nanay. I can't say this to her without tears forming
my eyes. But I hope she knows I really do. All the things I am and I have won't be enough to repay her for her love.
Maybe when I get to be a mother myself will I fully understand the depth of her love. And I can show my gratitude to my child as I should to her.

13 March 2010

2 centimeters

I miss him, as I miss him in all of the days I'm not with him. Some days are bad, some days are worse. But I keep smiling on facing my days in the knowledge of his love.

Loving someone so much could hurt and in ways you have not imagined. I can be melodramatic and say that I've been through the worst. I probably haven't because if I already did, I wouldn't have survived. I know. My pain threshold is as small as the space between my thumb and my index when they hold a pen.

I just asked for him to do something small for me, this was something we argued over before. We argued about this a million times. I want us to talk longer. But then he has to go. I could say I have been a good girl these past few times, telling myself, I can talk to him again later. Today is different. I had to ask him to stay on for a little more so we can talk longer... but he told me I don't understand at all.

I can no longer continue telling you, my dear blog, because the screen is blurred now. I'm angry at myself again for not giving him what he wants when he wanted it: understanding. I want to lash out at myself for getting hurt again, for being in tears again. When will I learn to just depend on myself and not totally rely on someone else for my happiness? When will I be able to adapt to what people expects of me? When can I hold back that part of me called pride?


28 February 2010

The Witch of Portobello

The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coelho
Just recently finished reading this paperback. The story revolves on a woman who has influenced a lot of people she knew. She was thought to be a witch by the people who don't know her yet dislike her. The book had been a series of transcriptions from interviews of people who had been part of her life.

I don't agree with most part of the beliefs that the author is generally saying but I can probably say that there may be truth in it. When he (Paulo Coelho) talks about the Mother, that this was what people believed in before they changed it to male form of divinity, it makes me ask myself if this is true. This subject is always a background or the main theme of any of his books. But I've read only a few, so I may not be correct, though.

Sometimes, I can let myself believe it's true. But I get confused too. I was raised and lived in the faith of the Catholic Church. I know it is not without any terrible mistake, but most of the religions at present is not without a dark past. Anyway, reading it was fun as long as you don't analyze much of what is being said is true or not. I would suggest the reader to be objective and to not be swayed by the beliefs of the protagonists, to enjoy it.

Ping me