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IEP major's errataCLEARED chips ahoy with M&M'sCLEARED oh man..CLEARED declaration
Yes, I do find shelter in something bigger than me. " You love to hide behind...." < a taunting line from THIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED THIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED And I'm always the girl in distress. I'm tired of being injured.
THIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED Sorry. I'm just too fragile to act 40 years old. I'm only nearing my 30s. Besides, I think single and bitter 40 year old women and above 40 years old are the scary ones. Force of habit: Years of taking blows from my Dad. Not just blows. He would throw tables and chairs at me. Newspapers and books and bottles, anything he could lay his hands on. He hurled a mini sofa at me and a television. CAUTION: MUST HIDE BEHIND OR COWER UNDER SOMETHING BIGGER AND SAFE ALWAYS. He threw drinking glasses at me, and hangers and suitcases. His briefcase he would use to smack me with, till I was bruised all over. When I was 10, he broke the ancient and priceless Chinese urn which belonged to my grandma on my head just because i was looking for my comb. I wasn't bothering him. He'd use his fists to hit my face, to pull my hair, and he almost killed me one night in an attempt to push me down a flight of stairs at home. This was the only time that my Mother screamed for help. He did this for 16 years. ~0~ Dad couldn't hit my mother. So he used me for anger management. He never hit my sister. She looks just like him. I was a battered child and an abused child. ~0~ I am not a coward but I prefer white flags or doves. ~0~ another ironic thing about me: you'd think I would hate all men, because of my shitty Dad. but no. i only hate those who try to injure me in the way that my Dad used to> any form of this kind of treatment. how i wish the world would be kinder to me someday. Toodles for now until I am well enough to smile for a camera again. >>>>>>>> x <little kiss> >>>> f. checkCLEARED PHILIP MORRIS 100'SI remembered this line from the film Romance Cigarettes: " There are two things that a man should be allowed to do. Be romantic and smoke his brains out."
I wish that I had a magic wish granting hairband, I'd wish for this to be fixed as soon as possible.
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We always did get along just fine in those periods of no fighting and peace but the rare kind of peace with talking and communication.
We'd be both happier if only he could just be less blind and say, " Ok. I've been a big dope. Now, F...promise not to log on to the Internet for at least two years. One year is easy for you to follow. Two would be slightly pushing it, but the world is, after all, full of possibilities."
He probably wonders about how it's possible that I always manage to have a good point or two, somewhere in the middle of everything.
"She does have a point." Meaning, me.
~0~
I sent him mosquito nets after a I find out that he had dengue.
Because that's the kind of thing that Filipinas do.
I was very hurt when he didn't mention anything about the other thing I sent him.
I had sent him one of those tailored Barong Tagalogs.
Since tailored Barong Tagalogs here belong on the backs of great men.
Even Quintin Tarantino was so very happy about owning a real tailored Barong Tagalog, recently.
And Quintin wore it with pride.
Now I think that maybe the Barong was stolen in Malaysian customs.
It was, after all, a fine tailored Barong
which I valued at .20 MR ( Malaysian Ringgit) because that's what you are meant to do for Fedex.
Place any monetary value, for bullshit's sake, if you're not sending something for the purpose of commercial trade.
~0~
Oh dear god. This growth at the back of my neck is torturing me again.
I will be vomiting for hours.
And I don't have a magic wish granting hairband.
~0~
And then, I remember how I can mimic the way he talks. His style. I can predict how he is to put something.
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As my going on leave for awhile entry (hospital stuff, school stuff and I'm going to see the cherry blossoms in a Jap-filled county if my doctor allows me to travel before June teaching starts):
She hears that somewhere in another world a man speaks to a girl. "This ghost has something to say to you. But will you have it?"
~0~
I want to have love in my life < love of my choosing and wanting> and I want to be a CLEARED POST
Well, God's stamp on this life-span of my always, that is. Quiet, simple, and rather happy, I think.
To be remembered by those who I cared for and who cared for me: the only kind of remembering that exists for a person to truly aspire for.
<My belief>
~0~
CLEARED tranquilizer babyCLEARED silipCLEARED change topic ( 2nd edition )CLEARED Baseline Information On How I Fell in Love. Analysis Included.(A.K.A And I Couldn't Be Happier ?
A.K.A Isa Akong Api, Ako'y isang Api-Apihan: Akin Na Nga 'Yang Balance Sheet)
Manila:2005 --- I had been waking up early for many weeks. My life was taking a happy turn because I was due for Paris <2006> and I was finally driving a car alone without any supervision. I was becoming a good driver, my book business was in a bustle and there was a man making me wake up for life <earliest as possible> every morning. For many weeks. 4 1/2 weeks. That is plenty to be just many.
I would take long morning baths and dress up pretty for my office. I was taking very good care of myself and eating breakfast! <Surprise. Surprise> I would pick up a book each day while drinking my morning coffee; take down quotes to send to Mr. Man via SMS before finally peering at my pet cat Luc in his cage,closing all lights and heading to my car.
"Such a glorious feeling
I'm happy again."
My heart was singing and impervious to the lack of rain. Knowing that this kind of behavior would prompt my Mama to comment, " Cess, why are you acting suspiciously?". If you must sing, wait for it to rain. My Ma's philosophy when it comes to the matter of just when to burst into song.
On the last night of the said 4 1/2 weeks, Mr. Man sends me a letter signed like this:
love ~ <his name>
<E.>
For the first time in almost 4 years, someone after the EX signs
love ~ <his name>
<E.>
"And my heart skips, races a beat"
I am a Filipina and Filipino men don't sign "love". They will sign "love" if he is married to the recepient of the letter or engaged to her. If he is a teenager and if he is writing to a relative.
Only my relatives sign letters using "love". Girl friends hardly do so. In fact, generally, grown men don't even write letters. Stephen wrote me letters because we were a couple engaged to be married.
My Dearest Francess,
Blah blah blah
Love, Stephen.
Might you guess what became of me after reading Mr. Man's ---
love ~ <his name>
<E.>
"Oh the train was so loaded
it nearly exploded
the poor girl would shake with alarm
He'd ne'er leave the girl
with the strawberry curls..."
I was trembling in near anticipation of my mother's sweet "Yes." as I asked permision from her so that I could go to where Mr. Man was on my birthday.
It did not happen while we were waiting to cross that street, after all. That stop light had been an affirmation.
It happened as I pulled away from the letter in front of me. Sitting on the roll along chair, its wheels squeaking. Like many other girls before me who had found themselves in the same situation < my situation that night> there was no sweeter way or better way to speak for the contents of one's heart than by these 3 words:
He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
~0~
In the 3 years which followed the last night of those 4 1/2 weeks he was never able to intentionally destroy this story of mine. No meticulous letter, no meticulous yelling spree and none of the meticulous & spiteful shouting on the topic of
love ~ <his name>
<E.>
And he can no longer give me anything on the topic of
love ~ <his name>
<E.>
Not after Much love & Yes, I do love you a little.
I thank the Lord for Mr. G. Abad's story. The one with, " You are somehow responsible for those who you say love to."
While typing this, I have been puking into a small pail. The tumor at the back of my neck is making itself felt again. Another one of those Bonamine riddled nights. Motion sickness medication being the best way to survive nights like this night.
To sleep and to rest is for later. I want to sit in this curious warmth for a little while longer. The warmth of knowing that there was, indeed, encouragement. Encouragement from him. How I fell in love did come from him.
And almost all normal women know that Yes, I do love you a little only means that we love them more.
Having Yes, I do love you a little was a setback, certainly. You begin to wonder why
love ~ <his name>
<E.>
ever existed.
feeling ABBAI don't get jealous.
Even if I can imagine him with other women.
Long arms hooked around him from under his shoulders. Soft whisperings of the "ya." and " ya." between them. Some laughter and mundane conversation. Supportive words and good nights.
I don't get jealous.
It tugs at my heart plenty, but that's life & my life has been a brimful of pig shit, in so many ways.
What is it in Tagalog? tae ng baboy.
Wuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-Hah. Ang pangit.
I'm still alive and this is supposed to be the good part?
right back to the startCLEARED &here it isTHIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED c/o arrested developmentCLEARED Ang_Odisyon_Ni_Laura_SobrepanaThank you to my St. Scho College of Music bestie Mr. Cato Endaya for sending me the non-studio cut of our work last summer term. troubleshootingCLEARED sa aking wikaCLEARED becauseTHIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED we still have our form of mental telepathyTHIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED |
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