500 words challenge, Writing

{Day 2} Is personal blogging cloning self-centered earthlings?

Everybody has his or her own dreams they hold dear to their heart. The mere mental slideshowof those desires bring a smile on their faces — an obscure one, a sinister one, a happy one. Desires ought to bring a certain pleasure to the thought owner and they are not limited on the good side of the shelf. Desires seduces and are believed to tag along happiness to ones self and not necessarily to others. It’s a little selfish, I know. 

My religious perception of desire was bugging me while I was attending mass earlier. I inhaled the Catholic scent of St. Augustine’s Church in Limerick, while my ears were struggling to avoid silence by magnifying even the faintest sound my floral boots make on the tiled floor. I came inside thinking how selfish I have been for most days, or for all of my life. I always think about my goals, my family, my boyfriend, my friends, my job and my financial security that I just started to build. Thanks to the internet and my personal blogging, I have never been this “lustful for life”. I have never been more empowered than me creating life lists and crossing out things that I’ve done and filling in new ones again.

I’d have this moments when I virtually fast track to the end part of my life, pretending to have reached all of the desires of my heart. At the end of my journey, I would ask myself, “What now? Are you happy that you have published one book? Are you happy you have two lovely children with curly hair, big eyes and fair complexion? Are you happy with the financial kingdom that  you have started for your bloodline?” What will happen to all of my earthly desires when I leave the soils of the earth?

Sometimes, I feel guilty for eating a lot when a lot of the people go hungry. I feel guilty when I go buy things for myself and I cannot give a portion of my income to the needy. I feel guilty of just planning out the happy life ahead of me when girls get raped everyday over and over again on different parts of the world.

I don’t know what difference I could do or what charitable organization I could join. I don’t know where to put my efforts on — me enjoying the world built by our Creator and helping my family or sacrificing a little to help the needy. I feel like Barbie most of the time — nurturing my compassionate self sparing a moment for the cruelties of the earth, but giving in to my inner material girl who just wants to have fun.

I know I don’t need to absorb all the negatives in this world, but sometimes, I feel like a sponge — easy to soak in those emotions, easy to squeeze them off. Squish, squish. Just like that.

So, tell me should I feel guilty for blogging out my dreams and the life that I want to live? Should I feel embarrassed for spending too much time on my personal blog and skipping out the news section? How could I give out to the world? How could I change the life of one miserable soul? How could I help all those who need me? Starting with my family is acceptable, but I think it is still selfish enough.

Sometimes, the conflicts posed by heaven and earth are just too hard to fathom.

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500 words challenge, Writing

{Day 1} The Write Commitment

Define writing. 

— something I love

Define commitment.

— something I sort of loathe

Define ‘The Write Commitment’

— something far too lovely for me to loathe

So by now, you probably have an idea on how I feel about this challenge. Just like every other people. On challenges. I would do things that I hate so that I could achieve something that I want or I desire or love. In my case, it’s just clashing responsibilities and priorities which make me kind of I’ll-comply-though-I’m-tired attitude with this Write Commitment. I mean, I absolutely love free writing, but hey I have a day job and some creative writing sidelines which I need to have a second stream of income.

So, why have I signed up for the 500 words challenge?

Sometimes, I just want to write for myself. On my personal blog. On this blog, my literary poop tub. And our finance blog. And my online portfolio, but I think I just can’t. So maybe this is why I’ve joined the 500 words bandwagon. To help me help myself. To help me do the things that I love. Or maybe I am just taking much more things that I can actually can, but hey, I love to be able to do things that I love. 

Do I swear, really really swear to finish the 500 words challenge?

Yes, I do! Really, really do. As my co-internet-frenzy writer friend told me, I should do some CPR on my blogs. Because I want my writing to be heard. And talked about. And linked to. You know, that kind of stuff. And, besides, Jeff says I could skip a day. (Oh, so me, procrastinating eve before starting!) So, if I stick to my Write Commitment, I am about to through 31 days of pure writing. That would be a total bliss. Not to mention, productive.

Am I willing to be hard on myself and have expectations?

I’ll say yes. I have been missing my writing days so yes, I am going to encourage myself to go write everyday. Before I go to the shower. Before I sleep. Any time just as long as I am alone. I am usually pesky when someone talks to me while I am writing. My boyfriend can attest to that.

Yep, so back to my expectations. Here it goes:

Myself, I expect time-worthy blog pieces on your personal blog, literary blog, finance blog and the Finance Pinoy blog. I also expect you to make this time as a chance to go find prospects on which sites to write for. Take the plunge. Make it bigger. Online-preneurs have been coming to you without you reaching out to them first. I believe you could take heaps more if you begin to reach out to them. And most especially, I expect you to write helpful posts. Those that your readers will find inspiration from, find technical help from, gain financial wisdom from, and most especially, anchor God’s surprising love from. I know you have your tone and voice of writing developed by now. But, I know you could do so much much more. Build a blog that captures, darling.

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Prose Poetry, Writing

Away from him

 I recognize the piercings in your heart; your eyes betray them. Your heart is a fragile, magical thing; it’s supposed to be taken cared of. Not slashed and lacerated on random days he picks. You know you deserve better when you constantly push thoughts of I deserve better from your mind.

Listen, darling. You know your story. Don’t put a happy twist into it. Stop making excuses for him. Let the pain consume your bitter skin. But, always guard that crimson spot. And when all but that spot is already consumed, it’s time to cut the string and free-fall.

Let the birds watch you step into the air. Let them see you tumble and circle around mid-air. As you f

a

l

l                        away.

Splash! You hit the ocean surface. The feel on your skin breaking the tension is itchy-woundy, but you’ll get through.

You can start from here, darling. Away from him. Away from him.

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for Magpie Tales, Writing

A Thousand

88be8-poets

A thousand books to read,
the immortal classics,
how  society behaves on different stimuli feed
and the unending attempts of novels in defining love.

A thousand places to go see,
where Oscar Wilde grew,
where waves dance in the Caribbean Sea,
and where dust from the iconics were left on Abbey Road.

A thousand tastes to let linger,
of which honeybees made,
meat bursting with sapid ginger,
and velvety cupcakes I wouldn’t be too happy to fork through.

A thousand thoughts to write,
of what-if love stories,
silvering the mundane and the trite,
just stroking out the heart pulses on pads or paper.

A thousand reasons to skip sleep,
for the world is simply brimming
and start ups keep being nipped.
Oh, how sweet it would be if we could just do more.

*Written for the Magpie Tales

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for Magpie Tales, Prose Poetry, Writing

A Lover’s Salty Plee

La Jument, photo by Jean Guichard

The last memory I had was being on a boat sailing on a lovely canal,

with Christmas lights wrapped around the wooden rows.

I had to securely tape the power supply I made specially for this night.

I owe you one. I owe you this. You and me, just letting things be. 

The next thing I knew is that we’re in the middle of this angry ocean,

beating us like we spilled oil in one of its waters.

No boat was anchored meters away.

No airplanes that I hear of. How did we get here, my love?

If not for this rocky fortress, I would assume we were doomed —

Lungs filled with saltwater, our struggles we would eternally curse.

Remember though that for as long as we breathe the same salty air,

No wave is a maverick — ’cause we’d surf over them.

Tomorrow might be a nightmare. A future with a sink hole.

A Yolanda fiercer than ever. An oceanic beast.

Invincible, we may not be, but let our love shine to the Almighty

that He’ll calm all storms and let us be in paradise.

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Journal Entry Excerpts, Writing

Here Comes Your Man

It’s raining and I’m working. I am so uncool. Please remind me to do this to him as soon as I see him. I haven’t seen him for weeks and it’s driving me insane. Okay, overreacting.

For the first week, my coping mechanism was to slack off. Sleep early. On the second week, I shifted 180 degrees. I worked my ass off.

I had my Midterms exams in Financial Accounting earlier. Balanced everything. So I am quite confident. The next class was Management. For like 6 hours. And they begged our professor not to have a short quiz. Geez. It’s just a quiz, not a hurricane. Stop panicking. I wanted to know his style at least before the Midterms, but thanks to my classmates, we didn’t have the chance. It’s Midterms two weeks from now. No classes next week. Holiday.

Anyway, I have to woooork my ass off to complete 26 more wedding articles before the month ends. Help me, creative fairy godmother. Shower me with the patience to overcome it and to write effortlessly as possible.

And I am working tomorrow. On a Sunday. Again, I am so uncool.

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Journal Entry Excerpts, Writing

Turtle Net Connection, Minus You

Thank God, WordPress loaded. The turtle net connection, on top of you being not here by my side, is breaking my heart. On the contrary, not having you around boosts up my writer persona (I always write better when I’m agonizing.); and that must be a good thing. But then again, the slow internet connection kills my creativity so it’s just a tie. Victory has just eluded me.

As a renewed person who isn’t broken anymore, I have to channel my loneliness into productive things like work my ass off online, which is a little impossible now given my internet connection. So, I May just have to go fix myself and hang out in Starbucks instead with my two next bffs (after you of course) — my laptop and cellphone.

I thought I could work there. And I have to bring these two bags of our donation to Yolanda victims. I do hope they have some donation center.

Sigh.

My day simply sucks without you, especially now that I know that you’re hurting and you’re away from me. =(

 

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