Willing to be Illuminated and Pierced

Posts tagged ‘memories’

Catching Dragonflies

I don’t know if most kids still know how to catch dragonflies nowadays. I doubt if any of them still do, especially those who live in cities where trees and plants are almost non-existent. It seems they have settled their childhood on iPads and YouTube, leaving me with the impression my childhood days were better than theirs.

Childhood for me was simple and bliss, peppered with memories of Gummy Worms, colored gum, matchbox cars and Japanese anime series. I never owned a game console even though I had drooled for my cousin’s Nintendo, which was filled with Mario or Sonic the Hedgehog. Instead, I had loads of playtimes at school. Huge old, mango trees gave us shade when we played touch ball and sipa. The green, growing grass that had brushed our socks and newly, shined leather shoes became home to curious little creatures like the dragonfly.

I don’t know the origin of dragonfly catching. It appears to be buried in the subconsciousness of every active kid born with sunshine and fresh air. My mom told me they also used to catch dragonflies when they were children. Now, it was my turn to catch a few of them. 

These little creatures were quick. While one dragonfly would brush its face with its front feet, I’d slowly and quietly sneak behind it. I’d usually spot them sitting on blades of grass. Snatching it by its wings, I’d then feed it with pieces pf grass. Once it stops eating, I’d let it go. Then, I’d catch another one out of thrill.

Green dragonflies were the most common ones. It would be an honor for anyone who could catch a blue one because it was rarer and quicker. Anyone who catches a red one would be the master of drangonfly hunting. It’s like winning a jackpot and the awe of your classmates when you catch the reddest of them all.

But I’d usually beat the others by catching more dragonflies quickly. One schoolmate once asked for my handful of dragonflies in exchange of chocolate candies I was asking from her (which I obliged for the sake of chocolate). But it was a horror for me to find some kids picking off this insect’s wings one-by-one. I’d never do that to a harmless creature. So, it seemed to be a waste for some kids at school that I would always let go of the dragonflies I have collected at the end of the day. 

These days, I’d only see dragonflies when I go on a hike. Unlike before, I would never dare to touch one because there might only be a few of them living in this sanctuary. But seeing one would always make me excited because it would always be a part of my simple and blissful childhood that might never be experienced by the next generation.

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My Father’s Smile

20150622-174253.jpgWhenever I see daddies alongside their children, there’s always this tiny pang of jealously from within. I have had this love-hate feeling against my dad, who at most times seemed absent even though he was still with us in this abyss called life.

It has been eight years since he passed away. Complications due to kidney disorder was the medical conclusion. He had lived a life of excessive smoking, and then drinking towards the end of his life. He had done this to ease himself of muscle pains and to drown himself from the depression he plunged himself into. His life was marred with self-pity, not knowing that his loved-ones were suffering for his self-redemption.

I’ve tried to be distant from my dad as he was always distant from his children. I would admit that I had this secret fear against him. At the back of my head, I sometimes thought that he could assault me anytime. Perhaps because he did not love us…or perhaps he really did not know how to express his love toward us. He had been a victim of countless rejections since a child, and he carried this spirit of defeat until his last days.

But for a short season, I had shared a time of laughter with him. That was when I was a small child, not knowing the pains he was bearing in life. Months before he was confined to the hospital, I tried to create light moments with him. He himself did not know how to reach to us, as he tried to hide his pride in his robust but frail stature.

And suddenly his time was up. Away from home, I broke down when I received a text from my sister-in-law. My mother was too frantic at what happened she could not reach me. The burden was gone and so was the chance to see him change.

But his change only came at the last minute of his life. He had turned back to the Lord days before he passed away, my mother said. But we children never had the chance to witness it. Until now, he remains distant to us.

Every Father’s Day seems like a blur to me. I never had a clear picture of my dad except the one where I was sitting on his lap when I was about four years old. He was not smiling then, and until the last days of his life he tried not to smile at anyone. No one thought of taking pictures of him as he did not want to show his almost lost teeth. Not one of us ever had a grown up picture with him. Perhaps, we never thought that he could grin at all, or think of us that we can be his closest friends.

He is now free, shackles now broken off his hands. We are also free, from the misery that he had been carrying all along. The choices that we had made were a struggle, as we tried to link each other’s understanding. That smile, rarely seen in him, might now be seen everyday in heaven. Perhaps, he is a man I never imagined, as he leaps with joy at our Heavenly Father who watches over us.

Graduation pictures, fancy medals, and rediscovered treasures

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My ID when I was a trainee at a government radio station laid beside my medal when I won 3rd for interpretative reading for a speech contest.

One of the blessings I’m having in this resting period is the huge chunk of time I have for clearing my closet. If it were not for the need to look for my transcript of records and my college diploma, I would not have unraveled a lot of nostalgia from those crazy college years last week.

If my contemporaries loved high school more than college, I’d rather not rally with them. I hold on to my conviction that the college years made the best out of me compared to those high school days. Maybe because those four years in high school only ignited my insecurities. Those college years were more exciting and challenging. This was when I discovered that I can challenge myself and go beyond the classroom chair. I never thought I’d have the chance of joining contests and even having a work published in a newspaper. These were the years that I don’t get to be a teacher’s pet, a topnotcher, or a heartthrob just to be a contestant. Oh yes, that was my golden era of my school life.

My picture album and other invites for events

My picture album and other invites for events

I am a natural-born shy girl…and I don’t know why I wanted to get into the mass communications

My one and only picture from the PRSP competition when I was in 3rd year college. See the pimples? :)

My one and only picture from the PRSP competition when I was in 4th year college. See the pimples behind my Ceshire cat grin? 🙂

department so badly, which I gladly did. Masscomm students have inherited the saving power of voicing everything out loud. Without it, it would disprove our reputation of being worthy in this department. I, on my part, loved the idea of working behind the television production, taking video shoots, writing scripts, and just be as creative in media. I had even experienced – and learned – outside the classroom by watching theater plays (which I dearly love), documentaries, and exhibits. But I will not deny the stress and emotional despair experienced in every projects and exams that go way above my head. There were terror professors, true, but we also had inspiring ones who encouraged us to go beyond our limits. I had a lot of interesting friends and worked with fascinating colleagues who are simply go out-of-the-box. We had entered exciting competitions outside the university. The best maybe is have some of our works aired on television.

One of my…ehem…achievements in college was when I had a work published on paper. But I guess I won’t re-publish it now. Just watch it out on the next blog. 🙂

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My graduation picture…one of my, well, prettiest 🙂

Looking at the pictures, I looked plain…except for that wide Cheshire cat grin that pushed those dreaded pimples off my cheeks. I am just fascinated how my trademark grin had not vanished from these plump cheeks of mine, which usually flashed automatically when I see familiar faces.

Despite presently not being challenged, these memorabilia remind me that I can go beyond from where I am right now. I don’t have to be a somebody in society to reach my dreams. Besides, heroes come from being zero.  It would be good to see these hidden treasures from time to time…especially when you thought you just lost your diploma beneath the pile of papers and folders.

The DIY Experience

Looking for a good gift this Christmas? Why not try making one? Making a DIY project unleashes both your creativity and passion for uniqueness.

I just suddenly discovered my inner creative self once again. I love it when I had just finished decorating the notebook with all those colorful bits and pieces from Ms. Patricia Paterno’s box. Like a little kid, I was excited when I finished my first project at Papelmelroti.

Popular as a DIY (do-it-yourself) shop, Papelmelroti caters to art lovers, gift buyers, and all kinds of people who would love to unleash their creative selves. For forty years, Papelmelroti had been unique in its kind, as its organic products promote a clean environment and nationality at the same time. Ms. Paterno, one of the five siblings who owned Papelmelroti (she was the one from whom “Pa” was named after), was kind enough to share to me the store’s humble and blessed story, as well as her love for the arts.

She lets me try my own DIY creation. From a plain notebook, I sorted out paper cuts and stickers and other items. Tada! I made a girl who left her basket just to chase the butterly. But Ms. Paterno had a different interpretation. It’s a girl who left her baggage of problems to chase her dreams! I love it!

Watch our interview and my DIY trial in Dec. 24 only on Newslight, 7:30-8pm (Manila time). It will be aired on Light Network (channels: 33 = free channel in Manila, 161 = Sky digital cable, 93 = Cignal cable). There’s also live streaming on http://www.lightnetwork.ph.

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Through the Open Door

I couldn’t believe I’m finally seeing this. This is the simple dream that lay dormant beneath my busy mindstate.

Rest…finally. After all these grueling days of writing scripts, covering different beats, and sacrificing much of myself despite having terrible colds, I’m here on our little couch. Perhaps you can’t imagine how comforted and happy I feel by just looking through that open porch door. But there’s something more than that door.

I see my happy childhood memories. I can remember the feeling of being excited while wondering what’s the world outside. It is through this door that introduced me that there’s life more than this little playground called house.

I see my favorite jackfruit tree. Oh, it’s more than a jackfruit tree, I’m proud of it. My friends who have tasted some of its fruits can’t help but ask for more. And again, it’s connected to my happy childhood. I’ll never forget how my sister and I used to hang out beside it. I love how its leaves try to catch the sun rays at noon. Its green leaves even try to disguise itself orange during sunset. And I can’t even count how many creepy crawlers on its branches tried to make me scream.

I see light. Try to close it and the house darkens. Just give me the bliss of basking in its brightness while feeling sick.

I see freedom. Wow, I feel free by just looking at the open life from the inside. Reminds me how free life is. I believe I’ve forgotten this freedom after basking too much at work.

I see life. All these memories and realizations counted into one thing we should not miss — the joy of being alive.

Perhaps, I can only remember this once in in a while. But then, just like rich wine, they become better when opened and tasted again.

Nostalgia and Deja Vu

Nostalgia and deja vu,
Both tingle my weakened senses
Not knowing which is which
A struggle in my eternal consciousness

Childhood dreams in hazy afternoons
Hope unseen felt in lost reality
A burdened heart after an unpromised glory
Switched with promises of a bewitching tomorrow

Pictures of the past present a future recall
Age and time burden these happy faces
Goodbyes I baded to the forgotten souls I loved
Now turn to unknown people who have not come in form

The hovering premonition of a closing chapter
Remind me how it all began
A cause to celebrate how it will all end
And begin a new one in a different bend

For once I see a different tune
Between nostalgia and deja vu
Would I not but stand in awe
On how I grew and changed in all

The Magic of Dinner Over Movies (First Bite)

I love eating. I’d choose dinner over movies. A plateful of baked penne or a 14-inch three cheese pizza is a real treat after a day’s work. But the real catch here is the people I dine with and the friendship we build over food.

Dinner has not been my habit until lately. It has become an outlet after work. Once when the camera lights dim and the taping wraps up, we’d go together to look for a good place to eat. A friend of mine told me that food is a good comforter after a stressful day. But once we take seats, that’s when the magic happen. We become ourselves, we express our hearts, and share each other’s thoughts and desires. Food has this magic that binds us together. It’s not only how it tastes that makes us alive – it’s the moment we share together in this dinner time.

It is over these dinners where habits and a part of ourselves are being revealed.

You’d guess who’s the slow eater and the raging consumer (take me for that…*hungry grin* “Can I take a small bite of your burger??” *big bite*).

Memories suddenly pop-up over one’s food (like “Oh, my Mom used to make lumpia rolls like yours but with cheese sticks inside. Can I see if these have cheese sticks? Thanks!” *big bite*).

It is also at these dinners that we release our feelings and comfort one another (like releasing frustrations, *frowning while cutting the chicken* “They shouldn’t have done that. We need support. If not, I’d faint with anger.” *giant munch*)

And this is where we practice our talents as food critics (“These nachos are good except that it needs more crunch. Now, how how does your chicken parmigiana taste? Let me have a try.” *spoonful bite*).

My friends and I got to know more each other every dinner time. We’d cry, rant, and scream over food. But the best part is our laughter mixed with the rich aroma of the restaurant. Once dinner is done, our stress is gone, and our bonding renewed.

I believe that food has been given to us not only to satisfy our stomachs but also our social being. It’s never fun to eat alone, unless we really need it. But as food is meant to be shared with another, the time spent in eating should also be a time of sharing one another. It’s no wonder I’d sometimes feel bad or empty when no one eats with me at home or outside. When we share not only our food but our time and hearts to the ones we cherish, it is not only our physical bodies that have been replenished but also our emotional selves being renewed.

It’s a natural thing to look for food buddies and be someone else’s food buddies for there’s another Food Buddy who lovingly made us as we are. I’ll share that in our next bite… 😉

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