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- 30 -
Saturday, April 17, 2010Thirty months ago, I was arguing strongly against me. I persistently wanted you to reconsider why you would want to say yes to a relationship with someone like me. Along Piy Margal, while sitting on dirt, and with an armory of discouragements, you still said yes anyway.
Thirty weeks ago, I was struggling with my political science thesis. I was arguing against the science in the political, until you walked me through Statistics. You believed in me. I was never the same - with a margin of error of ±3%.
Thirty days ago, I had troubles keeping up with my patience. I’m not the greatest at handling pressure from multiple angles. I spike, I crack, I breakdance, and I fart with no excuse. But you were always there. With love. With understanding.
Thirty hours ago, we were talking about our all-important future, like how many boxes of nachos to buy and how many salsa dips to go with it. Or like how many hours per day we’ll allocate to cuddling, studying, or playing Plants vs Zombies. Or like how many times we’re allowed to press the alarm snooze before getting out of bed.
Thirty minutes ago, we agreed to sleep the night away and wake up to the first day of the rest of our lives.
I’ll see you at 3 PM today, Honey. Walk some thirty steps down the aisle for me. I’ll be waiting at the other end, with the promise to not let you take a single step alone again. No margin of errors. No farting at will. No snooze.
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In journalism, “-30-” is traditionally used to mark the end of an article or story.
We end a story; then we begin a new one.
hard fingers
Sunday, December 21, 2008I am disappointed with my writing. This blog is supposed to enhance my skills in the art, but for the past 4 months it seemed like I am over-exerting the effort to create a single entry. I really don’t pre-plan for topics to write about; whenever I open this page, I wait for my hungry fingers to work on the keys to cook the perfect soup of the day. That was the plan: spontaneity. But so far all I can think about is that its really not working for me. I guess I can never have the perfect soup recipe anytime I want.
But then after giving much thought, I’m usually able to write better, faster, in a very spontaneous manner when I am low, sad, depressed, challenged, fired up, or pissed off. Not to imply that I don’t get to feel those things anymore, but perhaps I just found a way to pile up such negative emotions in a single box that I will leave at my gate at the end of the day, before I retire to this life in megabytes per second. That’s actually good, right? Could I attribute this to maturity? Well, actually, I’m thinking of ‘old age’.
Perhaps I should look for more motivation than negative emotions (and software manuals, lol) in order to write with ease and with passion. The only problem is, I am boring. I am detached. I always rethink the idea of fun which complicates things. And most of the time, I am stoic…
…which could probably explain why technical writing works for me
…and why I became a news editor in College, not for features
…and why my fingers get harder to work with every writing day.
evolution
Wednesday, November 26, 2008I finally decided to let go of some of my writings (poems, essays, papers etc), written when I was a lot youger, and publish it here in my blog. Here’s the first one. This one is not on my favorites list though.
_____________
…Coincidence
Encounter
Illusion
Sex
Conception
Engagement
Marriage
Birth
Parenthood
Care
Love
Home
And some things
Change,
Evolve,
Never last…
Drugs
Hallucination
Greed
Tension
Dominance
Force
Death
Apathy
Disillusionment
Neglect
Separation
House
…
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Written sometime in 2002.