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My Tw|t Garden
Sunday, January 23, 2011

It's been a while. :)




I've been leading a hectic yet fulfilling life the past weeks.




No time to stop and watch the sky like I used to.




Even doing number 1 in the toilet demands a quickie rather than the usual 'write a blog entry as you do your business' thingy.




I realized that feeling useful really helps with depression.




Being useful - well, it's a whole new league of it's own.




Some people think they are useful; thus the feeling of usefulness. Others ARE genuinely useful; thus the physical state of being useful.




I have gone through both. And seriously, it really much better knowing that you are genuinely of use in this world than realizing that you are just creating a sense of grandeur about yourself.




A friend asked if I'm happier these days - busier but yes, happier.




Sometimes I even wonder if the sky's really the limit; or everything is actually limitless.




It only goes to show the prowess of the human mind - perseverance and sheer concentration (of course you do need a little brain or wit) do magic sometimes.




That's why when my husband tells me that time will prove that our love could withstand another 50years - I believe it will.




Because I know for a fact that he has the same kind of tenacity I have. The kind that makes you keep going until you get what you set out to achieve.




He'd been using it unknowingly - in a negative way of sorts - yet the moment he decides that the right path is the one he's gonna walk in this lifetime, I know, for sure he could do it.




He's the male version of me - only better.




He just hasn't realized it.




And when he does, I'll be there to celebrate with him - because when finally he knows himself to be useful - the sky will never be the limit.




I'm blessed.




And I refuse to be complacent.




I'm learning a new skill starting now: to be humble.




It's the only virtue that could be my saving grace right now.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Haven't got a lot of energy to write lately.




Conserving the energy for my favorite and work.




Hubby's no worry. He's been almost non-existent for the past week. Night duties. Working his butt off to grab some savings before the coming of Isabelle.




My favorite's been his usual self; seemingly more empathetic and less grudging lately though.




I wonder if having peace - no one shouting and throwing angry fits at home - has anything to do with the change in him.




I've been sort of trying to encourage him to get in touch with his emotional side recently.




I realized that most times when things do not go his way he tends to flare up and blame others for his little 'misfortunes'.




So I gathered he might not really know how to communicate his emotions and feelings despite being self-aware that he is upset.




I would throw words to his little mind, encouraging him to relate those words to his current feeling.




Sad, angry, jealous, happy, tired... Simple words he understands, but couldn't attach his moods to.




It sort of worked so far... I noticed he is beginning to blame people less, and is more forward in telling me how he feels.




Like the time he was 'jealous' cos I didn't not scold Ian for upsetting isaac's cup of milk. (well, he expects everyone to NOT scold Ian and that upsets him terribly).




Or the other time when he was 'tired' and didn't wanna get out of bed.




These verbalization have greatly reduced his frequent whining and screaming; though I should say there's definitely room for improvement.




One thing I really don't understand though, is why do I not see confidence in him despite my consistent praising and acknowledging his achievements since birth?




I came across this very interesting article in a magazine and I thought this might be my answer to my question.




It's inherited.




Parental traits might have rubbed off on him without us realizing.




I am so gonna work on building his self confidence.




I mean, this is such an important attribute to succeeding in life, don't you think?




It's really difficult to believe in yourself when confidence is lacking - even the most intelligent person would have to believe he is - before he could actually solve some incomprehensible algebra question.




Isaac's gonna make it anyway. I'm sure I could bring out the confidence in him soon. I just need to spend more time with him...




Rather than indulging in my self misery of being fat and ugly.




He's my favorite afterall!

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Right. So I had that nightmare and I couldn't go back to sleep. Hate to be alone in this bedroom.




It makes my imaginations run wild; it gets wilder after waking up in the middle of the night.




Sometimes I simply have this nagging feeling that the trauma would stay forever.




No matter what I do, I continue to have dreams that never fail to peel the scab off of my healing wound, exposing raw, painful, bloody flesh.




Someone told me he had prayed for my health and prosperity - I'd wished he'd prayed for my sanity instead.




I pray everyday for everyone else's good life and I'd forgotten to do so for my own.




He reminded me that the most powerful prayer comes not for yourself but for others.




He reminded me that life's difficulties are but a passing phase, and that goodness would prevail eventually.




He has so much faith given his current life situation; I wonder how he does it everyday, day in and out.




And I have to worry over recurrent nightmares and crying fits.




Okay, now that I've got my emotions settled, I should try to hit the sack again.




Nightmares or not, I gotta rest somehow before it takes a toll on the growing fetus.




Before I end, I just wanna pray for the good health of his family and him, may God help them with the difficult times they are enduring now.




You have shown me life in a different light, and I thank you for it.

Friday, January 7, 2011
Fallen but loved

Ripples erupted from the fallen leaf that'd touched the water surface.




He sat at the edge of the pond staring.




As she walked up to him, he noticed her reflection in the water.




Yet another wave of ripples blurred that beautiful reflection.




He turned around to face her.



She smiled.




"I wasn't expecting you."




She put a finger to his lips as if to silence him.




Gently, she held his weathered palm in hers and led him away from the pond.




He knew he was safe.




All the running had wore him down; mentally and physically.




He'd only hoped for a safe haven to settle down; away from the hatred and animosity he'd received his whole life.




He'd only hoped for one thing, and it had caused him a lifetime of ridicule.




He was the fallen leave, and the water - his haven.




No one could undermine anyone's strength; even a fallen leaf has the power to cause waves of mysterious ripples.




She knew, right from the start, that he was special - everyone is, in one way or another.




Even if it meant that that no one would give her their blessings, she would still choose to be with him.




"Where are we going?"




She smiled; her sweetest smile he'd ever seen.




"Wherever you are bringing me."




This time it was his turn to lead.




With a deep breath he took the hand that had his entwined and brought it to his lips.




Tears found her eyes. They were happy tears.




And with nothing in their name, they embarked on a journey as fallen angels - vulnerable, yet capable of love.




Clipped of wings, they neither feared nor resent - they were like the fallen leaf, making waves of ripples of their own.




Ripples that constantly reminded them of the false and unreal - and stay true to what was real.




Love has completed them.




Such... is the beauty of life.




-------------------------------------------------




You must pardon me for the sappy story.




First off, I'm extremely tired and am not really inspired (except by my wonderful husband)...




Second, the ambiguity of defining love has made me doubt my ability to pick the best form of metaphor to write on.




Angels spread the joy of love - yet they do not indulge in affairs of the heart.




I have reckoned that the story would create some irony just as much of what life has to offer are mostly ironic.




Yet writing it out proved much difficulty.




Alright. Will ponder over this issue and come up with a better metaphor.




Time to sleep!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Temptations

The old man beckoned to her.




She was hesitant, yet curious what he wanted of her.




In his wrinkled hands, he held an inconspicuous bag of something she couldn't quite make out.




At that moment, she was bursting with suspense kept hanging by a rope.




"What is it, old sir? What is it that you want me to see?"




The old man smiled, gripping that bag of 'something' even tighter than it already was.




She was getting impatient; yet perplexed by the old man's act of nonchalance.




His gaze met hers; seemingly telling about what he was about to do.




Undaunted, she maintained eye contact. She grew indignant and wished to possess that bag.




She threw a glance at an imaginary object behind the old man's shoulder.




He did not take the bait. Instead, he kept such a steady composure, she was sure he had something valuable in his hands.




She grew desperate by the minute. Millions of thoughts whirled in her mind at that instance and she couldn't quite make out which one to listen to.




But one thing was for sure. She wanted it. She wanted it so bad, she'd do anything to get it.




She flashed her pocket knife she'd kept in her purse for emergencies like robbery; and held it near the old man. The irony of it all!




The knife was cutting very close to the skin shielding his carotid artery.




"Give it to me old man!"




The old man smiled even more ridiculously, and moved as if to stand up.




The young woman; startled yet ridiculed by this act of defiance, began wildly slashing his neck in a terrible turn of events.




As the old man fell to the ground in a pool of blood, the berserk woman pried his bloodied fist to get to the bag.



The bag opened to reveal nothing but a dozen of worthless stones.




Suddenly aware of what she had just done for the sake of some stones, the crazed woman let out a heart-wrenching scream.




She screamed until somebody shook her at her shoulders.




"What's wrong Elena?"




She realized she was back in the hotel room with her lover; it was all but a nasty daydream.




"Come on, you were supposed to take a bath and you fell asleep in the tub? I've been waiting for ages and I'm missing you already."




Realizing what that dream meant, she burst into tears.




"I can't do it, Max, I just can't, I'm sorry."




That said, she quickly dressed herself and ran out of the room, leaving Max behind.




-----------------------------------------------------------------------------




Alright. Second installment of my many excerpts to come. I hope you people like them.




Today's story is about temptations - the ridiculous tendency of human to succumb to such evil is getting so rampant, I fear for what is to come by the time my children grow up.





Temptations exist everywhere - and it is really up to us to decide whether or not to give in to them.




We always have a choice.




Don't believe otherwise.

Monday, January 3, 2011
Fear & Guilt

Shut up! Just shut up!




Cried the fearful boy to himself, cowered into the darkest corner of his room.




It was happening again. The monster was torturing his slave yet again. He feared for his own life, yet ashamed that he could do nothing to help his mother.




The whimpering sobs turned into loud helpless wails; it caught the monster's attention.




He walked into his room, and bellowed at the wailing child.




The child tried to run; the corner he'd chosen to hide had proven to be his nemesis, there was nowhere to escape.




He watched as the monster took off his belt in one quick motion and rained whips of torture at himself.




Suddenly, he seemed to be watching as a third party.




He felt no pain; only sorrow.




He turned and tried to look for his mother.




She was in a bloodied mess herself.




He made a loud sigh. He'd forgotten if he was inside his body or out. Then it dawned on him that he'd returned to his physical body - the pain was excruciating.




He'd peed in his pants again.




Father is not going to like it.




True enough, the monster; his father, grabbed him by both arms and lifted him as if he was only a small parcel. He was thrown onto the bathtub like a rag.




"Clean yourself up you filthy little creature!"




At least the beating had stopped, he thought to himself.




The child took one final look as his mother - and closed the bathroom door to safety; shutting out the horrible shrieks from her mother that came after.




The monster had gone at her again.




He shuddered at the thought of a dead mother greeting him when he was done with the washing up.




That dreadful feeling of guilt came over him yet once more.




Then he realized he was no longer a child; he was standing at the bathroom door, with tears in his eyes.




This guilt... it's so familiar...




"I've let her down," he said as he walked to her side, embracing the crying damsel.




"I've let you down."




---------------------------------------------------------------------------




Yes, I wrote this. No, I didn't plagiarize.




I mentioned I was gonna try writing in metaphors...




So I thought I'll start easy.




Fear and Guilt. In my sense. In the form of a helpless child.




Not that this ever happened (resemblance to real-life characters are totally coincidental).




I think my fear and guilt are slowly dissipating, thank God.




You do realize how terrifying it is to be suffering like this everyday now, don't you?


I have three more months before two important things are gonna happen.




Isabelle is arriving.




I can finally sell the wretched house.




Chris said to me that he was sorry for making our lives such misery (the house issue), but all I could think of was - how happy I'd be when I'm finally outta here forever.




It ain't much of a misery; we need a bigger house after all.




And I hate the decor anyway.




Complete with bad memories and imaginations.




Sigh.




Three months are not too far away. Yet I wished it was now.




I hope the banker calls today.




So much anticipations and worries about financing the new house.




It's after all, dual meagre income with three young kids in toll- read: insufficient funds.




I'd better make a mental note to have less pamper-myself times at the salon.




Arrgh... The agony of middle income families.




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