I Know I'm Not Supposed To

On one of my innocent outings yesterday -- not buying, not doing anything one, I ended up with some items. They are the least expensive among the lot as I have to be practical and er, economical, but still, they satisfy my appetite for desirable. With no doubt, they are good purchases, these are items you could easily bring home.

I bought the All-One, which, after one use, proved to be a wonderful purchase, organically qualified, smooth skin and wonderful lavender scent. I think this line will be one of my staples.

I also have this!

I haven't had a facial, truth to tell. That's because I don't have the patience to sit around waiting for someone to finish doing something on my face. I cannot even stand a pedicure or a manicure for the same reason. I get too impatient for them to finish, I'd rather do it myself. Because of this, I am on a constant lookout for a good facial cleanser, the one that would make/do some badly needed miracles for me. This product is organic, which is a good thing, but it would take some time to determine its effectivity. I've used it but once, let's wait and see.

Then I have the Nature's Gate shampoo. It's nothing life changing, not shiny, not frilly. Very cheap too. I've used this product before. I buy it to quiet my worry about using too much palmolive and sunsilk which work for me, don't get me wrong, but I'd rather use something with a home made feel to it....

And so, the innocent did not turn out so innocent after all. Tsk.

Thoughts from home

I've been homebound for a week now, cautious about going out because for me that would mean spending a lot and also because work won't be two weeks from now. So home it is for me.

Laundry still piles up. Dust gathers. Sheets get changed once a week--
I'm not very quick on the household chores. But not far behind either.

For the first time today though, I set foot outside for a short, mundane, grocery shopping. Usually, that's something I enjoy. I am the type of person who, without anything to purchase loves to go to grocery stores and look at the array of items on the shelves. The happy shiny things sitting there waiting to be bought makes me happy. But being home for so long and belt-tightening make the outing unattractive to me.

The first thing I noticed when I went out was my thicker waist, my jeans told me so. And how pretty and interestingly smart and busy the two girls sitting in starbucks were.

Everyone looked to me like they have some sort of purpose.
One girl I saw by the sidewalk was even wearing black-heeled shoes. I'm sure they were intended for something...

And there were those old men who easily coagualate in coffee shops sitting also in starbucks talking business or not. Reading newspapers. Occupied, so very occupied. Like they've done something for the day already and are finished and are there because they're done.

Then the book-readers. Mesmerized.

I've been gone from the outside world so long things look different to me. Not for better, certainly not worst. But it brought me to thinking that I've lost that rhythm that makes me fit the mold, when I, just like everyone else goes my own way, so very unconcious about myself, primarily present in a certain area, at a certain time, because I'm there for something, and I'm there without really thinking I'm there. I just am. I just fall in step with everyone else and part of the picture.

The thing is, being home made me lose interest in so many things, I got easy. I lost that drive, that desire that makes certain things important somehow. I became less interested in getting something, being somewhere, because I see so little that makes them a must do or a must have. Everything are just part of a thought, nothing more, immersed as I am in my own little world.

Now, I don't know if I miss being that other. Continuously seeking. Having. Living so many different selves-- the reading girl, the girl by the sidewalk, even the old men who were there because they've done all else....

Pretty soon I will lose all conciousness again and just do and do and do.

Going Back to the Basics

As a kid, I was taught that before I could read the day away, I had to finish all my household chores first. Errands and routine chores lined up as a prelude to what would be pleasurable activities. Bathed and clean, I could then call the day mine, to do with as I pleased.


Today, it is aptly called delaying gratification, simply the maturity to wait for something that is desired until it could be achieved -- all in its right time and its right place. A simple motivation to catapult me into doing the nitty gritty details of my tasks so I could finally do whatever it is I have planned for the day.

And this is rightly so. There is every good intention here. Thereafter, pure and simple bliss.

On one hand, there is something else I learned on the way. I became familiar with the all too uncomfortable feeling of IMPATIENCE.

I became impatient with the small details, and attacked things generally, with no attention and love for the unnoticeable. So long as I finish one and move on to the next, I am okay and good.

Like a well-oiled machine, I go through the motions and practice what was preached but didn't learn anything else. It all became a wily act, an act of survival. In my haste to go to the next level in this game I played, I forgot many things.

I forgot to brush my teeth slowly and savor the minty feel of the toothpaste in my mouth, as each stroke of the brush washes away tons of bacteria. I forgot to enjoy the feel of a clean mouth after this ritual.

I forgot to wipe surfaces gently and with attention to the direction of the wood, there was no talking to the wood-spirit and communing with nature in my own living room. I forgot that.

I forgot to fold clothes neatly, sorting every color, classifying each cloth according to use, and perhaps remembering things about the clothes or those they belong to. Sending them some kindly thought.

I forgot to change the linens slowly, lingeringly. Forgetting to smell the sun in the fabric and the picture of them dancing outside to the rhythm of a wind that was barely there in this hot, hot summertime.

I forgot.

I forgot to savor and relish and revere. I forgot to take my time and pause and appreciate what's going on and bathe in the rigours of the ordinary and find pleasure in repetition.

But now I have to conciously take the time to remember.

Re-member.
Put things together again, make sense of things and put value in the littlest detail.

My way of preparing for my little ones who I will be teaching in turn.

After the Ecstasy, the Laundry

This book title caught my eye one day in The Not So Ordinary Bookstore in Glorietta (have I got the name of the bookstore right) and it stuck for a while. The truth of it packed a punch.

The reason why it caught my fancy and my imagination is because I grew up in the province with a grandma's influence. I could well remember her reminding me to stop laughing in the middle of a very hearty laugh for fear that my extreme happiness will invite the wrath of the gods that be... she is always sure that trouble is just at the heels of that. Tears, she said, is sure to follow. For her, moderation is always, always the way to go. Now grown-up, I have caught myself many times telling the youngs ones of the very same, minus the gods angle.

But putting some much needed reality into it, there are so many aspects in our lives where that could probably ring true. As far as ecstasy and merriment goes, I am four-five months away from my wedding and that definitely goes to the top of my list of HAPPY-- ecstasy to a T.

This is something that's going to happen only once in a lifetime, something that cannot be repeated or turned back and in the light of all these, and in the height of this ecstacy, there is much danger of going overboard.

There is the photography and video. Venue, church, catering, flowers, bridal gowns, ento gowns, the list could go on and on. I have heard people attest to the need to present only the best food. There are those who swear to the importance of wearing the best gown. And those who say that music and mood lights (mood lights? tsk) are the very essence of what will make or break it.

I am all for it.
All for the best, yes, yes, yes.
And it is so easy to be caught in the flight of all these fancy.

Who doesn't want the best?

I am always tantalized by how a little stretch here and a little stretch there, going from package A to package B can be an easy arm's reach. Just a few more thousands; and since you've gone all the way to package B, why not go to a more renowned supplier since it's just a little stretch from that point on, and begin again in package A then again be tempted to go up to package B or elsewhere. But, that's only for one supplier....

So much, so many, all at the same time.

_______________________________________________________

Let me draw my line here....

Let me hear the wisdom again....

AFTER ECSTASY, THE LAUNDRY.

If I am not careful, this has the ramifications of a lifetime's worth of laundry.

Love, love, love.

Sometimes I lay in bed and I am suffused with so much love for him. A feeling so deep and so great that I do not quite know where to place it all. Am I supposed to contain it? Put it in one place and let it keep still? But all this love I think will naturally overflow as it is brimming to begin with... what then?

I go from this point to another in this circle. Fear would follow and grip me. What if he goes? Him just going, just plain up and leave because after all life unfolds in funny ways, sometimes with no great personal respect at all to the one it happens to... or what if God takes him? Just say, enough with this story....

So much drama, I know.

But back to this love. It is overwhelming. Affecting. Sweet. And in our great tradition, poignant.

The only way to deal with it I think is to have a circle of friends around you to cushion your fall or to celebrate with you whichever the story goes. Us four girls have begun to understand that if love takes over one of us, we could only be there and accept and ride the tumult for that other who has fallen prey to this great power. I think that we have come to realize in many different situations we've faced together that to deal with love, we have to just continuously love that "ailing" friend, no questions asked. And maybe hope and pray that if our turn comes, our story would be as great or not as bad.
I think that as we go along we are starting to master this point in fact.

Love, love, love and it's many non-boundaries. In my story, I have come to understand that it is my weakest link. I have come to un-know myself-- there is absolutely nothing of myself that I can recognize and claim to be perfectly, typically me. In love, I have disappointed myself many times over. Lied to myself. Cheated myself....

I've become a warrior in a battle ground that I might even just have created on my own. Or not (here I defend myself).
To say the least, I've become my own worst enemy.

There it is. I look at it all, the long arduous, painful, tear-jerker journey, that purported to be my love story and get overwhelmed everytime by how events turned and still could not recognize me in it. With displaced humour you could even say that up to this point, I am still at large--.

But again, this is a circle you see, and so there is that point in that circle where I know exactly where I am and who I am and what I am at.

And so, there it is.

The Bug

I have not thought of myself as "the bride", gown, flowing material and all. Veil and flower. Make-up. Shoes.



But here I am.


I am in the exact place I've not thought myself to be and I wonder why life is like that, it seems to me that every direction mine has taken is off-kilter. Off my beat. Every little thing, the littlest detail is just plain opposite of the picture in my head.



I have never thought of myself as "the bride". I honor and respect the ritual, I quite understand the need for it, but not for me, no. I do not have the taste for it.



I've thought of myself married, yes. Living some happy wedded bliss well deserved by all those who take the plunge. Children? Oh, definitely. I know exactly the type of mom I will be. But the transition from here to that state was never clear to me. That part was always missing and I never thought to fill that blank.



But here I am.

A bride to be.

And being that I guess makes me all kinds of bride. I now epitomize all and every kind of bride there is, because if truth be told, I have now caught the bug. I admit that I spend most of my time playing The Sims 2 and Ravenhearst 2 rather than worrying about what color my entourage is going to wear or what my centerpieces are going to look like, but there it is, the bug has taken root and could not be shaken off. I now feel the excitement coursing through me and the thrill of being that girl on that day.

There is that day and I await it with great feeling. With very great feeling indeed.