A Pinch of Salt

He was a simple mind reader,
I was a simple book lover.
He liked to read poems
So I snuck up on TS Eliots.

The next day I shook
His hand and spoke
“Footfalls echo in the memory,”
I whispered the next few lines.
I swore his breath I almost took
In recent times he made moves
But mine where such a glory.

I looked back and his gaze to mine
He chuckled a little and gazed at the heavens.
He said ‘oh how I wish this was fine.’
Then he came closer and said,
‘Bless my soul, but I’m a heathen.
I do not wish to have your heart,
Nor do I want to beat it.’

And with that he fled,
The next thing he said,
‘I fell in love with you before
Until I realized I love him more.’


Yellow Pages

We like looking back
At things that aren’t necessary.
We try to look for streets
That no longer exist in maps.
Old numbers in yellow pages.

We like moving back
To old places that aren’t necessary.
We pursue dreams
In random places to fill gaps
We feel passion in lost ages.

We breathe, we exist
In old torn up books
Music that has been repeated over
And over and over again.
We wear fashion not from this decade.
We’ve lost our innocence
But not memories of the past.

I feel you coming on to me.
Do you feel me too?
I worry you feel much better
Wearing that gaze
Sharing it with someone better.

Memories are powerful.
But they loose meaning as we grow older.
I’m over you now
But I’ll remember you sooner.
I’ll loose you in the process.
How long ago have you lost me too?

A Look At My Window

When I was sixteen years old, I remember staring at the window and looking over fields and fields of rice that my father and all the other farmers in our village had worked hard for all rainy season. I remember telling myself that one day when I do have my own family, I will do my best to work hard for them and give them the life I had always wanted for them, God willingly.

Several decades later, at 53, I stared at a different window with a different view. I saw trees that I remember my own mother planting it for me, two cheerful but solemn dogs awaiting for their rightful masters to come home and play with. I feel pain but I try my best not to show it. For years of suffering from whatever stressful situations I’ve been at, I never imagined that I,  that young sixteen year old who never did anything to harm her body, except abuse it with years of hard work, would be rewarded with pain. Is this how it’s supposed to be?

I see two young girls come running towards the two dogs. They look excited and very young in their uniforms. One of them looks at me and smiles and says something to her sister. They come rushing towards my door, they succeed in opening it and one after the other kisses me on the cheek and give me this warm hug that feels sweet and gentle to my bones.

I felt a pinch on my knee but I ignore it. Moments later a young man perhaps in his early twenties arrives and kisses me in the forehead. I look at them and I feel an overwhelming sense of excitement and joy although the pain is tugging in my heart.

One of them takes me to the room as I plan to rest for the next few hours. They seem responsible and I feel content that they are. I have several hopes for them, for their dreams to come true. What are their dreams? I close my eyes and relive mine.

I opened my eyes and although it feels as if I’ve slept forever, it feels heavy and distraught. The pain still tugs inside, at several points in my body. I can see myself standing though, in a night gown I have never imagined that I owned. I’ve lost memory of the things that happened earlier, but my senses seem heightened.

I can see a future that cannot be imagined by any writer. I hear a sound that not a single note can play. I taste a certain flavor in the air that I don’t seem to remember tasting, it’s like pain mixed with confidence and fear. I smell the beauty of it all and at the same time the crudeness of it.

Will there be a light at the end of all this?  I’d want that. I’ve seen too many dark hours in my lifetime. Should I be expecting something indifferent when I plan to close my eyes or should I not? I guess I shouldn’t.

All I ask, all that I want is for the world to matter. For the world to make sense to them three. I hope that they find out who they are and what is laid out for them. I pray for a peace of mind, and I think I got what I ought to. But why this early?

I apologize if I have too many questions. I think one would have too many questions at this point. I look back and realize that I have loved, been loved, been hurt, been mistreated, been rewarded, been complimented, been taught, been learned from. I don’t think I could ask for more.


Sleepless Thoughts

I’ve never seen anyone outside my family sleep before.

Let me rephrase that.

I’ve never watched anyone sleep before. Even from members of my family.

Today, I just witnessed the man I love sleep soundly in just five seconds.

Let me rephrase that again.

He went into deep slumber and snored heavily.
Apparently with the exception of his sleepless days before presenting his thesis in college, he has never been wide awake for twenty-four hours.
I’m an expert on sleepless nights. I mean, come on, look at me:


I’ve had days where I just spend hours outdoors drinking, catching up on films, jogging even, attending food trips with friends, or with him, or with my sister, and basically doing anything I can think of to make my day or days off worthwhile. I even went to a concert and felt alive the whole time.


See? I looked fine there and I held one of the greatest conversations I have had in a long time. I even drank beer several times and not a single eye closed (except whenever I blink). But this guy, this man I love, he fell tired. The most exhausted, I think, he’s ever been.

I know all this lack of sleep is gonna toll on me, and he’s being a good example of a healthy person by making sure he gets his eight hours full of sleep.

So what do I do to get myself to sleep? It’s like preparing for a marathon, where instead of going for a full body’s stretch I go for a few minutes (or maybe about 60 minutes, really, or maybe about 120) of tiring my mind. I’d go play a couple of games on my phone, like City Island 1 and 2. I don’t use cheats so I’m still on level 45 on CI1 although I’ve been playing this for 2 months and level 34 on CI2 because I’ve reset my land three times and the only time the way the streets and the walkway and the waterway seemed okay was when my artsy twin sister played it. Once I’m done getting all the coins and upgraded some of the properties I move on to 2048. I’ve only been able to get 2048 during Practice Mode, but I’m always close to getting it on Classic Mode but my brain cells don’t seem to work well when I’m about to sleep.

So basically it’s simple. I have to work my brain cells out to get to sleep. But he? He only needs about 5 minutes to get to sleep. He just closes his eyes and voilà!

Pretend less, read more

This makes me even sadder.

The History Woman's Blog

nerd-glassesSince being a nerd has become cool I don’t like it any more. Big glasses are no longer the indicator of a visual impairment caused by too much reading, and pasty skin is less likely caused by long hours spent in libraries, archives or labs. It’s more likely the result of an overpriced holiday in Finland and cleverly applied make-up.

It is now socially acceptable, even hip, to be seen sitting by yourself in a murky café reading Camus. It is even more so if you’re wearing a baggy jumper you found in a charity shop, while frantically scribbling notes into your Moleskin notebook or are indeed staring into your MacBook. Not even questionable personal hygiene or unkempt hair are a safe indicator that the person next to you is a borderline genius.

On the other hand, real nerds are now heading to the gym to fight the pen pusher’s…

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