Great. Haven’t even started and I’m already buckling and succumbing to redundant and repetititive language. If you didn’t get the lame joke in the previous sentence, you didn’t miss much.

Anyway.

Currently reading Ricky Lee’s Scriptwriting Manual for inspiration. Also reactivated my quite-infertile-and-futile-till-maybe-now, year-old Nanowrimo membership. Nanowrimo, if you must know, stands for National Novel Writing Month. It is a movement that started in the US (I think) and mushroomed globally, daring aspiring writers to attempt drafting one whole novel in 30 days–specifically, within the month of November. I made my first try last year and completed an entire 3 pages. I just opened the file again and am now contemplating whether to continue working on that draft or to start over.

Whatever I decide to do by November 1st, the thing I’m certain of is that I. Must. Do. This.

I need to do this.

I’m glad I have this blog to help me warm up. I still have 5 days till it’s game time.

Flexing my carpal-tunnel-syndrome-symptomatic fingers now.

Joyful, joyful we adore thee,
God of glory, Lord of love!
Hearts unfold like flow’rs before thee,
Opening to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness,
Drive the dark of doubt a way;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day.

All thy works with joy surround thee,
Earth and heaven reflect thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around thee,
Center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest, vale and mountain,
Flowery meadow, flashing sea,
Chanting bird and flowing fountain,
Call us to rejoice in thee.

Thou art giving and forgiving,
Ever blessing, ever blest,
Wellspring of the joy of living,
Ocean depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,
All who live in love are thine;
Teach us how to love each other,
Lift us to the joy divine.

Mortals, join the happy chorus,
Which the morning stars began;
Father love is reigning o’er us,
Brother love binds man to man.
Ever winging, march we onward,
Victors in the midst of strife,
Joyful music leads us sunward
in the triumph song of life.

Walking up the hill tonight
And you have closed your eyes
I wish I didn’t have to make
All those mistakes and be wise
But please try to be patient
I know that I’m still learning
I’m sorry that you have to see
The strength inside me burning

Where are you my angel now?
Don’t you see me crying?
And I know that you can’t do it all
But you can’t say I’m not trying
I’m on my knees in front of him
But he doesn’t seem to see me
But all his troubles on his mind
He’s looking right through me
And I’m letting myself down
By satisfying you
And I wish that you could see
I have my troubles too

Looking at you sleeping
I’m with a man I know
I’m sitting here weeping
While the hours pass so slow
And I know that in the morning
I’ll have to let you go
And you’ll be just a man
Once I used to know
But for these past few days
Someone I don’t recognize
This isn’t all my fault
When will you realize?

Looking at you leaving
I’m looking for a sign

Not instantaneously–but it does, at some point, end.

Until the high tide comes again.

Elope with me Miss Private and we’ll sail around the world
I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl
How many nights of talking in hotel rooms can you take?
How many nights of limping round on pagan holidays?
Oh elope with me in private and we’ll set something ablaze
A trail for the devil to erase

San Francisco’s calling us, the Giants and Mets will play
Piazza, New York catcher, are you straight or are you gay?
We hung about the stadium, we’ve got no place to stay
We hung about the tenderloin and tenderly you tell
About the saddest ending of a book you ever had to read
The statue’s crying too and well he may

I love you I’ve a drowning grip on your adoring face
I love you my responsibility has found a place
Beside you and strong warnings in the guise of gentle words
Come wave upon me from the wider family net absurd
“You’ll take care of her, I know it, you will do a better job”
Maybe, but not what she deserves

Elope with me Miss Private and we’ll drink ourselves awake
We’ll taste the coffee houses and award certificates
A privy seal to keep the feel of 1960 style
We’ll comment on the decor and we’ll help the passer by
And at dusk when work is over we’ll continue the debate
In a borrowed bedroom virginal and spare

The catcher hits for .318 and catches every day
The pitcher puts religion first and rests on holidays
He goes into cathedrals and lies prostrate on the floor
He knows the drink affects his speed he’s praying for
a doorway
Back into the life he wants and the confession of the bench
Life outside the diamond is a wrench

I wish that you were here with me to pass the dull weekend
I know it wouldn’t come to love, my heroine pretend
A lady stepping from the songs we love until this day
You’d settle for an epitaph like “Walk Away, Renee”
The sun upon the roof in winter will draw you out like
a flower
Meet you at the statue in an hour
Meet you at the statue in an hour

(from the soundtrack of Juno)

If I was a flower growing wild and free
All I’d want is you to be my sweet honey bee.
And if I was a tree growing tall and greeen
All I’d want is you to shade me and be my leaves

If I was a flower growing wild and free
All I’d want is you to be my sweet honey bee.
And if I was a tree growing tall and greeen
All I’d want is you to shade me and be my leaves

All I want is you, will you be my bride
Take me by the hand and stand by my side
All I want is you, will you stay with me?
Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea.

If you were a river in the mountains tall,
The rumble of your water would be my call.
If you were the winter, I know I’d be the snow
Just as long as you were with me, let the cold winds blow

All I want is you, will you be my bride
Take me by the hand and stand by my side
All I want is you, will you stay with me?
Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea.

If you were a wink, I’d be a nod
If you were a seed, well I’d be a pod.
If you were the floor, I’d wanna be the rug
And if you were a kiss, I know I’d be a hug

All I want is you, will you be my bride
Take me by the hand and stand by my side
All I want is you, will you stay with me?
Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea.

If you were the wood, I’d be the fire.
If you were the love, I’d be the desire.
If you were a castle, I’d be your moat,
And if you were an ocean, I’d learn to float.

All I want is you, will you be my bride
Take me by the hand and stand by my side
All I want is you, will you stay with me?
Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea.

Then, an epiphany.

The formula for Joy, said my friend (on facebook, of course, haha!), goes:

J -  esus first,

O - thers second, and

Y - ourself last.

So now I’m resolved to get over myself.

Here’s to a joy-filled 2009!

Nakikini-kinita ko na: Simpleng pagpo-proseso ng mga bagay-bagay, simpleng mga emosyon, simpleng mga kaisipan, simpleng pananaw, simpleng mga pangarap. Kuntento nang maging abala sa pang-araw-araw at praktikal na mga alalahanin.

Walang matayog na pangarap na magkaroon ng kontribusyon sa sangkatauhan. Walang ambisyong maging magaling.

Masaya na sa isang lugar. Hindi magrereklamo sa trabahong 8-to-5 na filing o typing o pagsagot lang ng telepono ang ginagawa.

Walang malalalim na pagninilay tungkol sa pag-ibig na dahilan para walang-patid na manatili, maghintay, magpasensya.

I often see that my abstractions and profundities — the most important of which are my personal positions on love and on faith — are what keep me afloat in the midst of life’s innumerable challenges.

Once in a while, though, and especially over the past year, I have wondered whether these abstractions have been more a curse than a blessing, the anchor that actually gets me into the predicament I always find myself in.

I used to take secret (or not so secret, perhaps?) pride in the fact that I was atypical in the way I saw things and in how I pursued my life. I’ve always known I was different — I guess, ever since I skipped pre-school, I have always known. Not necessarily that I was smarter than others, but that I was differently wired. Whether it be my preference for books (classic novels and history/politics, even back in high school), my fixation for doing “meaningful” work, my determination always to look at “the big picture” (which is often mistaken for blind optimism), or my take on unconditional love… I’m just, well, not regular, I guess. And now I think I should confess that everytime I realized that, I used to feel a bit smug.

But, oh, what I’d give now to be regular, ordinary, normal. Simple.

Apply to be a volunteer in Africa.
Apply to be a volunteer with JVP.
Relocate to a faraway province and find a small-town job.
Apply to be a church worker/volunteer.
Go back to community organizing work.
Live by the sea.

IF I WERE HAPPILY MARRIED, I would…

Be working on becoming a mother.
Have someone to cook fantastic meals for everyday.
Get a kiss every morning and a hug every night.
Have the luxury of looking forward to growing old with my husband.