KristinLavransdatr

dear pop,

this morning you were talking about applying for a senior citizen's card. i looked at you and looked again. i was telling the truth when i said you don't look like you should be a holder of that card. you need to grow some more grey hair and stop using broduh's big bike.

i've seen and met some senior citizen card holders and they look way older. you have aged gracefully, pop. so has 'nay. well, i do have your genes, i'm sure i will live as you have lived, age as you have aged.

thank you.

now, go get that senior citizen card! :cool:

(will you buy my vitamins using that card, too?)

y

Dear God:

please, don't make me so sick this time. the idea of lying in bed sick and weak and in pain AGAIN is just so unbearable.

there are things i need to be present for all the time, at work and at home.

amen.

Y

quite apprehensive about what you may say when you find out, i removed the things that will give you the reason to doubt me.

and you don't even know me. you don't know it is i talking.

i can answer your whys but i won't as i will never be able to justify the workings of my mind.

i will remain as you know me,

my alternick

at 10 pm you made some subtle noise by the door. unsure you were if i'd let you in. it was raining and sure i'd need some company. i opened the door and let you in and asked if you'd want to stay the night and sleep with me.

you bowed your head and went straight to my bed, snuggled yourself close as i read szymborska. 10 minutes later you were asleep. i pulled out more sheets the ones mother kept for you.

thank goodness you don't snore.

and late into the night i was thinking if my man would allow a dog in our bed.

It's not the money per se, it's what money does to a person that makes him more "viable"... money often comes with breeding, which I think is the real key to it. Good breeding simply makes a better person.  Winning the Lotto will bring you the cash but doesn't make you sexy in a day.  It comes later (hopefully) if you know where to put your money.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

now that's a good point. money allows people to get good education and be exposed to the finer things of life. these give people a bit of class and sophistication. some people could carry on with such air without really looking pretentious. unfortunately some can't, even with several million pesos worth of lotto winnings.

P:

today is your birthday: you're 27 years old in korea and 26 as far as my calendar is concerned. haven't seen those eyes in 2 years, the close-up smile, the very tall stance. i stopped missing you, though.

S:

great to hear your voice again. the innuendos. you left me useless here at work. thinking. anticipating.

Release

I grant that of a very few things you spoke truly:

for one, my worrying makes the thing more fearful than it is.

I have survived days of hearts and sentiment

when conventions and commercials conspired

to cast me as victim without valentines.

But there are rooms and spaces your eyes have not seen,

and in a few years nothing of my body will remember you

even now, the blurring --

I remember what I loved in you, not why.

You gave me Mozart, but have no part in

the humming rhapsodies I enjoy.

Since you have forgotten and I am forgetting

will something wondrous have passed away?

Yet this release - freed from the suffocating

silence of telephones when they don't ring,

time not crammed full with tedious togetherness,

the frightening possibility that post boxes

may not be full.

Never to bend my will to secretly bending yours.

Never to avert my eyes from other pleasures

nor hurt, when yours fail to do the same.

There are skies and songs and books

you have not sullied,

and a strength we never saw because

it was sleeping.

- bliss cua lim

what have you done again this time? some girl is crying over you. again. you sweet talking mule has done it again. what's with you? can't get enough? the girl not good enough - again? when are you ever going to stop trying on suits and discarding them having left your mark?

pathetic! the perfect word for you.

Please, tell me,

Are you a god

Trying to present

Heaven as the

Earth that

Takes your

Indellible foot marks

Cruelly stamped?

sorry to have shocked you with my honesty. i forgot i am my alternick. would you have any idea it is i talking? i am putting on a personality who sometimes forgets she is just a borrowed one and i, with misses, flesh out the real me.

but i have always been true to my word. otherwise would you have come this far? i'm putting up a wager that this week you will abandon the idea of the pursuit. why bother with this? why with one who seems to play difficult?

oh, i'm sure you're unlike some men i have just read about who are callous and unemotional and who think women are replaceable things. and i can so easily leave you because you are not a friend.

but, tsk!

yours,

my alternick

too happy to spell happinness right!

you lost me there.

i wasn't expecting to be held in the hand and pushed to a place i wasn't prepared to enter. your openness, your willingness to share with me your life, your worries, your fears weigh a ton, a cubic ton (as you said) on my shoulders. i may sound ungrateful having been entrusted with such, but i am not the kind of person to take in everything easily. i am weak at hearing other people's worries and difficulties. i, having gone through my own, find it a weakness for others to magnify a catastrophe as if there is no tomorrow. you said it will come to pass too, but you don't sound like somebody who believes in that.

i am now confused. i care for you. but i have done so for you alone minus the things that make you you - yet. i intend to breathe you in one day at a time. i didn't expect you to make me live your life in one night. if time allows it, we will have enough lifetime to share your fears, your dreams, your ambitions. but you have to understand, i can only absorb so much. still, don't consider this as cowardice on my part. it is just me. and you know, you can trust me. with anything. but take it easy. i am of a weak heart. my mind may not be able to embrace the depth of your being just yet. please, give me time.

KL,

 

Why such angst?  Geez, I'd hate to be on your bad side!  But the guy should be flattered indeed.  Your dressing down was poetry in itself.

 

M

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

that was worth months of bottled-up indifference. now, it is just sizzling down to hate. my wrath in silence. my anger in words.

i will flatter you with this one.

it may not be good. but still, it will be about you. a time spent. utilities wasted. for you. in writing about you.

a recklessly pretentious human being who must have been told he is above all else. that's who you are. and your cohorts smell just like that. skunks smell better even. you think you're smart? you think your comrades are too? well, guess what? perhaps. but your depth is shallow. your insolent intelligence romanticizes stupidity. your poems make me cry for the poets who, long before you dared write your first line, have been less insulted. you dared be called one. you dared put words together and called them poetry. and you insulted me when you exposed me to them.

oh, they surround you, oh you little gods. playing greeks and romans. you make utopia a despicable hell. your language labors hard for refinement. and you think each time, you sound schooled. oh, you do. but the voice that i hear does not come from the marrow down your spine. oh, how i flatter you to assume you do have spine!

if glasses had tear ducts, mine would have shed some. but my glasses aren't like yours. yours shed lies. but your eyes shed none. as your eyes are part of the whole pretense called YOU.

flattered enough? thank you.

given the previous premise, it's funny, nay, weird for men to settle for less. despite.

i sure did some thoughtless things when i was younger. someone should have told me never to date men from one industry. and never to date older men when you're only a college kid. but who would have thought that years later you guys would meet up and exchange notes? who knows what else you talked about! oh, curse!

so? where you shocked to find out he was after me while i was crazy over his boss? and was he shocked to find out i'm still going out with you? did you tell him, it is my nature to date and not take men really seriously? did you tell him you're going through hell because of this? that i am more than what people see?

but i'm a nice kid, am i not?

for the first time in the history of mankind i agree with you.

men in silver and gold wraps on display for sale so ridiculously priceless, only the likes of rowling, the queen and roberts could possibly afford are beyond the ordinarily good girl's reach. and yes, good girls come in torrents, "ideal" guys in trickle.

thus i have the mind to stop dying for such a man. nor even dream i could ever land on one. words can flesh out the ideals. but only thoughts preserve what's perfect. yes, that greek. specific words can make great incantations (too much of the phoenix series on me) and if you have a wand, you may be able to create a spell and have the good guy of your thoughts before you. but the world isn't hogwarts. and one can only post online.

so what do i want? what man? as long as he's not chubby and not have a criminal record (i hope this one isn't too much to ask) and can weave great magic in bed, after which i can very well fend for myself, thank you.

mh,

do not address me in the third person pronoun when i'm within earshot. doing so shows weakness. doing so highlights cowardice.

i've nothing to apologize. if my rank is several steps above yours, i won't say mea culpa. i earned it. to be my equal, please, earn yours.

i don't require that you address me with a salutation other than the second person pronoun "you." better yet address me using my name. no miss. no madam. i give you this privilege because, as i speak, i still consider you as a friend. take that. otherwise, call me as my position dictates.

j.e.w.e.l.

goto bought at the local market

sliced bread from the universal bakery (the best sliced bread in the world -- for me)

kalamay oozing with latik

how long do you see yourself going round in circles? when are you going to say halt! and step out of the algorithm? where is your weakness leading you? do you know? and hopelessness, has it gone so really bad? and bleeding?

i hope this scene on your stage will end soon. the takes are ugly. the players are the same, only changing masks in every turn. don't you smell the sweat? their cheap cologne? their aftershave?

some, as you said, could not even perform anymore, some handicapped by lack since birth, some don't even give you the chance - to find out what they've got inside. but the package and the moves tell you they're no better than those who can't perform, those who are in dire need to ask god or science for additionals.

some scenes are funny. others sad. some both. but they could not elicit real laughs anymore.

quit the act.

from a friend.

waaaaah! this is exactly how i lost her... jeeeze... and i saw the film after we broke up. i should ask though, were you doing it on purpose? i mean knowingly to shooo him away?

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

yes, on purpose. there were no other ways. he was just too perfect and i wasn't ready for something that was too beautiful. the realtionship wasn't something that just grows by the day. it was something inexplicably wonderful, inhumanly right at the onset. and that was really, really scary.

and my friends crucified me for it. but, i'm forgiven now. today, i only have to deal with regrets and ...yeah...the what ifs.

to the man after paul:

i regret having shoved you away. or rather how i shoved you away. so engrossed in that film about losing a guy in 10 days, i did some of the how's to you. my reasons weren't clear. but my fear was.

i sent you an e-mail blaming you for things you didn't do. i demanded that you defend yourself so i could crush you some more.

i sent you messages telling you i needed you, not you per se but what you can give. i turned myself into a user, a clingy girl, a whiner, an attention addict. i became every girl you hate.

and i lost you. unfortunately we're not stars in a film. we are real people and deus ex machina is only an element in fiction.

my fear consumed me. and i can't go back to the time when i was still whole.

i've decided not to keep your hopes high. you're nice to talk with. you're funny. you're alright. but heck, these things aren't just good enough.

i'm looking at a certain something. something nameless. but i know what it is when i see it. and i didn't see it in you.

i guess i will stay date-less for a little while longer. better be real than be larger than life on a stage of pretentious ecstasy.

as i said, my marks are high. and no way in this lifetime will it get ever lowered.

Dear Father,

thank you for the miracle of faith. thank you, that despite the shortcomings of the people who comprise your church (priests, bishops, cardinals and archbishops) i still see you above them. i thank you that despite seemingly intelligent contentions about your existence and that of your church, i still have the seed of faith in me.

i thank you for keeping me strong despite tribulations. i thank you for loving me despite my weakness in the face of sin. my sins aren't few while my virtues are limited. and i'm grateful for the same grace you've given the likes of augustine. and magdalene.

y

i see death to be either an extention of life or the end of it. my emotion towards death may differ depending on the state i will be in as i die.

if die now, i'd rather that death be an extention of life as i cannot quit life now. it is so darn great. however, had i died a few months ago when life really sucked i would have welcomed death as the end of life.

fear death? dunno. will cross the bridge...or climb the stairs when i'm there.

you are so funny. who gave you the idea i wanted to engage in courtship? if i want you i will grab you by the hand and kiss you black and blue.

you hope you can get me with your moves, your flirtatious looks, your heart-wrenching words of endearment, your humor, your wit, your compliments, your pretty face. easy.

i know what i want. i know when i want what i want. when it comes to men i can be stupid. when it comes to men i defy dignity and not pretend it is alright because it makes me happy. when it comes to men i take full responsibility and accept i'm bad for being selfish and work on remorse later. i don't make excuses when it comes to my "man stupidity." that should make you happy.

but i think i'll keep you hanging a little while longer. hang on. i just need to make sure that the length of time you suffer is the same amount of time you'll make me suffer later.

wrong girl? if you're strong enough, i will be good enough for you.