Introspections & Retrospections

On The Book: What About Justice?

At first, when OMF Literature called for contributions on the topic of justice, I was excited. Then, I hesitated.

First, I don’t really get along with everyone’s idea of justice — especially with my fellow Christians.

Next, what’s the point? Sure, some might agree with me, and some will disagree — and so it goes again: this cycle of division.

And lastly, what do I really know about justice?

Who am I to write about it?

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Introspections & Retrospections

01| Bushi+DO: On Benevolence 徳

It had been a tiring, yet good day. I had fun, both during the kendo practice, as well as the club dinner afterwards with our guest teachers. I headed home, giddy from the freebies, my thoughts drifting to the manuscript I need to work on when I get home.

A stray kitten mewed in the night.

I stopped. You don’t really have the time for this, don’t you? I told myself.

So I spent the next 15-20 minutes coaxing the kitten from its hiding place. Save for some minor scratches, I felt happy. But now what?  Continue reading

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Short Story | Fiction

A Parable For The Lost

It was almost 10:00pm. Elsewhere, people spent the night with friends and families, or resting in their homes. Others were already on their way, albeit stuck in overcrowded buses or jammed roads; still, they’re on the move — unlike us, still waiting for our own ride. Unlike me, simply watching each bus pass me by.

A taxi glided towards me, rolled down its window, and waited for an offer. I tried to ignore the expectant face behind the wheel; I’ve learned to distrust their service, even when I understood their plight. I couldn’t tell what the driver thought as he drove past me; eager passengers had already raced towards his vehicle. A few frustrated people cussed at the taxi driver, but it didn’t matter; there was one less competition in the waiting shed, one less rival to a decent ride home.

And I just wanted to go home. But not right now; not right away. I was tired, but it was not as tiring as spending the nights in abject solitude. Amidst the standing crowd of stranded commuters, I didn’t felt alone. And soon enough, I felt satisfied, reminded fully well why I often chose to be alone. Continue reading

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Introspections & Retrospections

The Trouble With Peace

I stared at the ceiling. I like looking at the little holes— a corkboard sky of inverted starlights, office dust for phosphenes; and on rare occasions, wayward ceiling debris fall like shooting stars.

But what I really like about staring at the ceiling is how everyone becomes a bit more hesitant to approach me. This illusion of thinking, of introspection, of go-away-I-need-some-space not-so-universal gesture we make when we tilt our heads up and get lost, making them wonder what on Earth are we looking at up there. Or maybe not.

Clickety-clackety-cluck, goes the dulled rhythm of several keyboards being tapped, dissonant melodies of a clockwork office routine. Sometimes, an officemate murmurs to someone else; at times, they talk loudly. Too loudly. Cubicle discussions turning into impromptu conferences; but on good days, it does turn into a welcome flash mob of gags and jokes and random angst-turned-into-humor sessions.

On bad days, there’s just silence. No, not peace; just impassive, stoic silence. Continue reading

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