waiting
Short Story | Fiction

Patience Doesn’t Count

It’s almost 4:00AM again. I still can’t sleep.

I checked my mobile notifications for the umpteenth time, hoping that somehow, your name would be there somewhere. Your name that hasn’t shown up for quite a while, except in random conversations with friends, when I’m lost in thought and my heart takes over, when I wake up crying from a vague dream that I knew was about you.

When will I see you again? Will we ever talk again?  Continue reading

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Junk Post

2016 Christmas Book Wishlist

Yeah, I know I still have a lot of unread books at home, but that doesn’t stop people like me from wanting more books!

It’s already November; 2016 is almost over already, and I can’t help but feel that life is getting shorter— too short to enjoy all the stories waiting for me to discover (and afford). That’s why instead of making the usual gift wishlist, why not ask for books, instead? It doesn’t even need to be brand new; worn, pre-loved books are welcome, as long as the last few pages are intact (I will murder you if you give me a book, only to find out the ending is missing).

So here’s my initial list of books I wish I can buy for myself soon, or for someone to give to me this Christmas. I’ll try to update the list from time to time. But if you have other books that you want to share, why not? AS LONG AS IT IS NOT THE TWILIGHT SERIES OR FIFTY SHADES OF GREY OR WHATEVER CHEESY HARLEQUIN ROMANCE / MILLS & BOONS BOOK.  Continue reading

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Introspections & Retrospections

The Playground

Nothing haunts us as maddeningly and painfully like beautiful, sweet memories.

Like staring at the rickety, old see-saw, wood worn from countless years of play and getting soaked in the rain— and for a moment, children and childhood friends (or what seems to be a spectre of your shared past) intrudes your reality, and you find yourself back to that moment, half-remembering and half-imagining what was and what should have been timeless, ageless, unchangeable. Continue reading

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Junk Post

I Don’t Know How To Title This One

When you’re 35 years old and single, you realize from time to time that each day, each moment, is often a tightrope walk between blessed contentment and depression. Well, at least, that’s what it feels for me.

No, I’m not talking romance anymore. Trust me, you eventually get to a point where you just don’t care and stop pining and chasing after that person you really fell for; doesn’t mean you don’t love them anymore, you just learn that falling for someone shouldn’t also mean falling flat on your face. I’m talking survival— like, frantically coughing and hammering my own chest at past 2:00AM because for the second time in my life (I think), I think I just had a mini-cardiac arrest. While I was alone in my room. Without a mobile load. With a crappy wifi signal (but it’s free, so who am I to complain?). Without a health card or insurance. And all I can think of was God, not like this. I mean, seriously: if I died— it would take days before people notice I’m dead. The landlord would probably discover my corpse once the neighbors complain of my rotting smell. So I wrack my memory for some emergency self-administered first-aid, and pray to God it works.

That was some time ago. And lately, I realize I’m subconsciously scared to sleep; thank you, Google, for all those sudden death syndrome articles. Ironically, I know the lack of sleep isn’t helping, either. Continue reading

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Thanks Mrs Ukita for the pasalubong!
Spiritual Reflections

Learning to Stand

“Your swings are good,” our dojo’s sensei said, “but where’s your footwork?”

Two months into training, I still find myself frustrated: how can something so basic and simple as a proper stance be so difficult to memorize? I practice in front of the mirror and whenever I can. I get the feel of it. Then training sessions come, and my feet forget what it was supposed to do. Sometimes, I just awkwardly execute the footworks; most of the time, I lose focus and at worst, my balance.

At the end of each sequence, I glance at my feet, adjust them back to their proper places, annoyed. Ugh. I just want to swing my shinai like Kenshin Himura; why do I have to do this boring routine every time?

 

Even when I was doing Muay Thai, I had the same problem: my strikes were good (I think), my balance was bad. I’d get reprimanded over and over again about it— and for a good reason. No matter how powerful my punches or kicks were, it’s useless if I lose my balance and fall down whenever I move or block a hit. And the same was true with kendo: even though my swings were improving, I still trip on my footwork.

Practice at home, our trainor keeps encouraging us. Practice wherever you can.

I stare at my ugly toes, wriggling them into position. How can something so simple as standing become so complicated? I can’t help but remember that oft-neglected phrase at the beginning of Ephesians 6:14— Stand firm then. Continue reading

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