Seven words gracing a thread of ribbon on top of the coffin was all it took to sever my heart to pieces. “Thank you for being my best friend,”
it read. No, in the end, the octogenarian did not thank her for being his wife. He remembered her as his lifelong friend. I was pierced, but the seven simple words were wisdom and comfort nonetheless.
…and if my time comes,
how shall you remember me?
…and if you go –-
don’t go.
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My creativity is underwater
as of the moment.
I’m holding my breath.
Thanks for ignoring me.
There’s something like a line of gold thread running through a man’s words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. ~John Gregory Brown~
It’s been said, that I am my mom outwardly, but I am my dad inwardly. Despite being the only daughter, I am arguably their child who is most like Papa. So I understand that behind that occasional strict veneer is a father who only wants his children to walk in the right path… but also an artful William Parish who wishes for me to be swept away, levitate, sing with rapture, and dance like a dervish when I fall in love. =)
I love my Papa.
I have my reasons for not surfing along with millions as these Harry Potter billows sweep many minds off their footings. To summarize my explanation when asked why, I simply reply, “I can and should yield myself over to better books.” (I’m weird. I know. I get that a lot.)
Whenever I ask in return for a sensible answer as to why Harry Potter is so popular, I never get any… until I read A.S. Byatt’s article, and I must say that I have never heard a more proper response to my query than this. As it turns out, this has been around for five years but it was obviously drowned by a fiercer majority.
The Link: Harry
Potter and the Childish Adult
http://www.countercurrents.org/arts-byatt110703.htm
When this article surfaced in the New York Times, a Mr. Taylor described it as “upfront in its snobbishness,” but A. S. Byatt was also applauded by the Guardian’s Fay Weldon by saying, “She is absolutely right that it is not
what the poets hoped for, but this is not poetry, it is readable, saleable,
everyday, useful prose.” Weldon added that she found the sight of
adults reading the Potter series troubling, and supplemented that “Byatt does have a point in everything she says but at the same time she sounds like a bit of a spoilsport. She is being a party pooper but then the party pooper is often right.”
You may say I’m a party pooper… But I’m not the only one.
*Sings in the tune of Imagine*
Especially for Claire. Because her words caused me to effuse one of the most personal entries I’ve ever written.
“…hope to hear more
beautiful music from you. Even if you didn’t realize your dreams, you’re still
passionate. I’m in the verge of giving up, but after seeing you play, I’m
thinking of applying again for master’s abroad (Europe). Thanks for the music.”
I read this unexpected message today and before I knew it,
it had plucked an emotional string or two.
The person who sent me this message met me in my teens. What
an ambitious person I was at that time! I
knew what I wanted and I was quite sure of what I was capable of achieving if I
did my best. No, I did not exactly harbor
visions of fame and fortune. I only wished to learn more about music and master
my art, but in order to do that, it was necessary for me to be away from home. Therefore, my parents bridled my raging dreams,
bypassing opportunities in Germany or even the more proximate-but-not-really UP. Some friends and bystanders even deemed their gesture to be selfish or
mean. At one time, I refused to
understand them as well, though deep inside,
I immensely comprehended their
decisions.
In the end, I remained home.
Had I not remained, I may have been seen more often in the
music scene, probably giving concerts, collaborating with great musicians, and
going places, just like my peers. But I would have still been lacking… and
that’s what my parents and I knew all along despite hating to admit it at that moment. I was born into a Bible-reading family,
alright. But that alone does not ever
qualify, baptize, or secure anyone into the Christian faith, and I acknowledge
that if I went away from home with my dithyrambic teenage hormones only to be
surrounded and influenced by heaven knows who, there’s an entire possibility
that I would have strayed from my faith or neglected it.
Through the years, I learned to be content. Whenever I speak of “contentment,” it is not
merely an easy word, but something a dreamer took a long way to obtain. Little by little, God opened my eyes to many things
worthy to be added to my “Had I Not Remained” list, and these are just a few; had
I not remained,
I would not have discovered my love for writing, painting,
teaching, and cooking. I would have escaped a thousand glorious sunsets, and Misha
would have been left without a teacher and I would have missed witnessing the
miracle that he is. Had I not remained, I
would not have come face to face with the people blessedly bestowed to help me improve as a
person – and that is indeed much preferable than meeting people to help you become
a better musician. Truth be told, I am
still not the best person that I can be, but because of these people,
I continually
strive.
Now that I have what I have because I remained… if it be
God’s will that He give me the chance to be refined music-wise, I honestly
think that this “could have been” could “still be”…
…and this, my friends, is the reason why I am still able to play music passionately. =)
What is an
“interrobang”? Some of you (especially my editor friends) may have readily given
an answer to that question, but not I – until I looked it up recently.
From the
Latin word interrogatio which means
“rhetorical question”, and bang from
the proofreaders’ slang for the exclamation point, “interrobang” is a word
coined by Martin K. Speckter in 1962 to introduce a new punctuation mark.
This
punctuation mark was invented to fulfill the writer’s need without the unwieldy
ensembles of the question mark and the exclamation point. (E.g.?!?!, ??!!!)
To find an
interrobang in Microsoft Word, click on format,
then font, and select Wingdings 2, then press the `~ key or the }].
Now, wasn’t
that nice to know?!
In Korean, it is called Sa-rang-nee (love teeth)
referring to the fangs – I mean, pangs, of first love.
Now I know what
my friend Bings went through, and how Misha felt when he asked my niece if she
wanted to “borrow” his toothache. Two of
my wisdom teeth were extracted the other day. One of the wisdom teeth was horizontally impacted so the dentist and I
went through a gruelling two hours before it was finally removed. I purposely closed my eyes during the
“surgery” (that’s what the dentist called it even though I refused to use that
word) so that I wouldn’t be able to see all the bizarre and freakish gadgets
that went in and out of my mouth.
Today is
the second day I’ve spent wearing a bandana over my face like a bandit because
my cheeks are swollen and I look like a puffer fish. I planned on posting a photo of myself in this
bloated condition and have “would you still love me?” for a caption, but then refrained
from doing so, for fear that I might probably have “no” for an answer. Haha Instead, here is I with the bandana, sans dent de sagesse.
It aches,
but iced coffee, ice cream, and lots of care from Mama definitely alleviates
the pain.
My advice
to those who have impacted wisdom teeth:
[Little musings on photography, provincial life, pyrotechnics and the sunset.]
The sunsets have been indescribably magnificent these past few days. It’s
the kind of visual glory that makes Adobe Photoshop seem worthless, and
the sort of natural beauty that rewards this photography-ignoramus little girl with what she has captured. (Up to this day, I still refuse to have Photoshop installed in my computer to bear out that nature is majestic even without digital enhancements and manipulations.) The following links will prove a nano-percent of what I daily look forward to; the splendid dot that ends my day, that sublime great period which is the sun.
Link: May 2008
Link: May 29, 2008
Link: May 31, 2008
Link: June 1, 2008
(Yeah, I could have been more imaginative with the album titles. haha)
While sipping coffee at quasi-European Café Isabelle with my loved ones this evening, childishly pretending once again that I was at an outdoor café in Europe, something happened that brought my thoughts back to where I really was. Children and grown-ups were excitedly coming out to the street and were pointing to one corner of the sky, towards the pyrotechnic display that signified Dipolog’s current festivities. One could not help but notice the delighted expressions on their faces. I, too, took photos of the fireworks despite the sorry pang of realization that I felt.
At the boulevard this afternoon, I was a trigger-happy little girl even with our inexpensive camera, clicking towards the breathtaking colours of the sunset. But I noticed that most people there just walked on by, as usual… evidently, they were not as enthusiastic as I was about the miracle of the heavens. If I were just a bit crazier as I already am, I would have stopped everyone in their tracks and made them turn their faces to the sun and tell them how blessed they were to be able to witness such magic. But they just went on walking… and unfortunately, they missed it…
…and there I was tonight, at the café, wondering why the mere brief-lived
fireworks were more of a spectacle to them compared to the sun that had been wondrously burning for eons.
“If the stars (or in this case, the sun) should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and stare.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson~
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