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 |   Second blog -- answers to an ocean of prompts |
 "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself." CHARLIE CHAPLIN  Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. David Whyte        This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts. |
| Prompt: Life is about creating yourself, not finding yourself. Do you agree? -------- Yes, I do, in a way. I could never warm up to the finding oneself idea. You have to lose something to find it. Or you come across something that you didn’t know existed. Most of us are aware of ourselves from birth on. Creating or even re-creating oneself may be better but not exact either because, really, who created us is God or Nature or Universe--choose your pick. I honestly don’t think I created myself in any shape or form. Growing into oneself or maybe cultivating oneself, as far as the concept goes, is a more preferable term to me since we amass experiences and mind our trials and errors, we learn from them, and we grow internally. Age may have something to do with it, but I think, not as much, as I have seen some grown-up young people who are emotionally and mentally more stable and mature than sixty or seventy-year-olds. Not that I am blaming anyone who is late in growing or anyone who is acting immaturely. They may well be suffering from the side effects of living in an imperfect world with imperfect people. Because of that and possibly other factors, too, for some people, true adulthood is a faraway destination. |
| Prompt: Which is better, never leaving or coming back to where you started? This may mean anything and it is up to your interpretation, could be a place, a goal, a person you love, a vocation, or a hobby. ====== When starting out, right after college, I didn’t want to leave, but it so happened that I had to. I have this thing about me; I settle easily. I settle into any situation and I am happy. I don’t want to be disturbed further. Although I am not too sure about it, I think this may be a negative trait. Still, I left for good when I was quite young. A situation made me leave, and since I felt I had to leave to avoid some ugliness, I did. Then, the experiences granted to me by fate or karma, whichever way you look at it, were priceless. Looking back now, I am glad I did leave. As to coming back where I started, that place or situation is not the same as when I lived in it. When I visit it, I find it changed to the degree of becoming an alien situation or place for me. Returning means re-tuning, which may prove to be quite impossible. This might happen with professions, people, or old loves…depending. Then, if it is a hobby or an avocation, if you had to drop it, you must pick it up again early enough, for the desire or the talent or know-how may leave you for good. One of my cousins, who was a very talented painter and who won the first place in several art shows, left her art totally to devote herself to married life, raising kids, working at odd jobs to make ends meet, etc. Then in old age, she wanted to paint again. She can still paint quite well, but she has no drive and no enthusiasm left for she painted three or four paintings and let it go again. She says it is not the same thing for her anymore. I think the ideal would be leaving because you want to and you feel you are open to new experiences but coming back soon enough, without waiting for several decades. That way, what didn’t work earlier and what needed improvement could be taken care of without the alienation problem. |
| Prompt: In his book The Club Dumas, Arturo Perez-Réverte says, “Even if there is foul play, without the rule there is no game.” What does this quote mean, and how does its meaning reflect in your life? ======== The Club Dumas is about the antique-book dealing with all its shadiness and the rules of that shadiness as adhered to or stepped away from by the dealers. Come to think of it, even the organized crime has its rules. Without rules, no one would be successful, even though human nature is adept at adapting any rule to its advantage. Every society, even a not very pleasant one, needs rules that may be enforced according to who breaks them or if the rule-breaker changes the rules somewhat. Still society needs rules, even if there is often a motivation to break rules for power exertion or financial gains. In addition, some rules are on the books, while others are just understood by a group or a society. The thing is, be it in life or in a game, no one cheats 100 %. Some cheat in disguise, others openly, and not all cheaters are given the heaviest punishments. Although we all think rules should be obeyed, when someone--who is on the side that we are partial to--breaks a rule, we are usually more forgiving, whether we are aware of this or not. This is only human nature. Then, sometimes we cheat a bit to survive and make new rules to our advantage. The best cheaters are the ones who silence those who notice that the game is changing. I tend to think all new-rule-makers are cheaters. They are the cheaters of the original rules. Think of any online site. Don’t they keep changing their rules to adapt to societal or technical needs? Still, this is a smaller scale. Think of the marriage vows or religions in general. Think of their rules. Don’t they change with the times? We’ve come a long way since the inquisitions, I dare think. From my life, I’ll give an insignificant example. Did you know during the 1950s and early 60s, women were not allowed in fancy restaurants in Manhattan if they wore slacks? Later in the decade, women in trousers were only tolerated. As for me, I was always in skirts and dresses even while attending school. But possibly since the 1980s or so, I have been walking around mostly in slacks and shorts. I think my great-grandmother must be turning in her grave. |
| Prompt: What does a person mean when they say they need space? ------------------- It means just that. It doesn’t mean that the other person or persons this is told to have done anything wrong. If the other people are so used to amassing attention to a person, no wonder, they can feel bad. They should, however, figure out why they are crowding and overpowering the person who is needing his or her space. Needing one’s space is the opposite of saying, “I need attention and support, today.” This is because a bit of aloneness or separation is needed for personal growth. Nothing is wrong with letting someone know when one needs his or her space while he or she works on himself or herself. Understanding one’s reasons for needing space and respecting their request is essential in any kind of a relationship. The questions to ask oneself if one is at the receiving end could be, “Does it relate to me? Is the other person need time for his or her work? Is something difficult going on in their personal life, which they are not yet ready to disclose?” The words that signal the need for space, however, are difficult on the person or people receiving them because they are used to sacrificing their time and pieces of themselves to spoil or support the person who now says he or she needs time alone. Yet, when a person says they need space, people have to figure out if that person wants a short-term aloneness or not too much attention. Even, Greta Garbo said, “I want to be left alone.” Later on, she corrected her words not to leave any misunderstanding. She said she didn’t mean she wanted to be totally alone, but she wanted to not be the center of attention as much. A request for space doesn’t always mean the other person wants the relationship to end. He or she just wants some breathing space and maybe some time alone. Speaking for me, I need some space to write, to read, and to enjoy my aloneness, but I usually make my meaning clear, so the others don’t feel bad. |
| Prompt: Down by the river, it was difficult to see. The fog had rolled in and I was squeezing your hand in fear. I didn't know if ... ====== Down by the river, it was difficult to see. The fog had rolled in and I was squeezing your hand in fear. I suspected this parasitic trepidation in me concerning the new routine of the weather signaled an omen about my new name and face. But you murmured, “I’m here. Don’t worry. They don’t know me, but I know them.” Although I battled my own mind to rationalize the time and place, the dread arose from the pit of my stomach to cause the icy twinges in my legs. “They may still find me,” I said, ”They know how to tune in to my DNA from the sequence of my nucleotides.” “Don’t you think that way,” you said, tearing your eyes from my face. “I made sure the nucleotides in your DNA were masked and their sequence a bit altered.” “I’m scared,” I said, almost breathless, like someone had punched me in the stomach. “Don’t be,” you said. “The change in your genetic makeup is why the change of weather is affecting you this way. You were never fearful of anything before. This should tell you something.” You had a point there. I used to be a daredevil earlier, and now… “I am not sure I like the feeling of fear,” I said. “I’d rather be unafraid.” “Once the intergalactic council suppresses the lizard humanoids’ aggressions and suspends their scientific experiments, the changes can be reversed. In the meantime, you’ll have to suffer feeling different types of terror and distress. You are too valuable for us to let you fall prey to other species.” I nodded in agreement, and somehow, felt a certain pride. After all, who else in this expanding universe had pushed an entire star system into a black hole! After a while, “Still, I’m scared,” I said, almost breathless, like someone had punched me in the stomach. “It is to be expected. Just go with it,” you said, your voice barely audible. Then I clung to you like what I am doing right now. And your warmth penetrates into me and you stroke my wet head where the hair sticks and your touch sends a scorching pulse through my body and I hear you breathing deeply and my heart races and I want to crawl under your skin. This, too, is a new sensation. A sensation I am enjoying. Maybe, I like this change after all. Maybe, I won’t let you unmask and alter my nucleotide sequences back to where they were. So what if I become too afraid to mess with those fancy star systems!   Prompt: I bought a People Magazine with Prince Harry and Meghan's Wedding pictures in it. My husband said they don't even know you exist. I said maybe Princess Kate and Meghan may have read my published books. With that in mind, do you think celebrities could have read books or something we had published? ====== Well, those of the royalty are unavoidable, aren’t they! This couple has been all over the media. I never thought of celebrities in relation to writing, even if they have amassed degrees and such. I don’t really care if they read my work or not. I care that other writers and those who understand the writing craft read my work and tell me what they think. If such people can be among the celebrities, so be it. |
| Prompt: What are your favorite summer memories? ===== My favorite summer memories involve the members of my family and cousins, usually by the seaside or on a farm. Other than that, being not much of an extremist, I am not too crazy about the extreme seasons that play havoc with the heat and the cold. To me, summer means perspiration, heat, and other sticky, uncomfortable summery things. I prefer Spring and early autumn. Prompt: What do you think about the fan memorabilia, and have you ever or would you, in the future, pay good money for such an item? Have any of your fictional characters been involved in some way with fan memorabilia? ==== I think a fictional character becoming involved in fan memorabilia would be fun to write about. This would certainly add to the character’s quirks. Just imagine that through fan memorabilia the character ends up someone like Richard Bronson. As for me, not only I wouldn’t pay for such stuff but also, I think such a practice is frivolous, but then, I am no Richard Bronson or someone who takes frolicsome steps unnecessarily that may prove to be lucky when all is said and done. Now, who's the loser?   As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. |
| Prompt: This might apply to any country you are from. What are your feelings for the Memorial Day, and if you were made to serve in a branch of the military, which one would you choose? ============= Memorial day is the day to remember the war dead and that’s why the flags fly at half-staff and Taps are played in services. It is, in fact, a very solemn day of reverence and gratitude and one to reminisce and think about treating our living veterans much better for theirs have been the ultimate service and sacrifice. Memorial day was first known as a decoration day for the practice of decorating graves with flowers and flags, and it began as an appreciative response to the Civil War dead when women first put flowers on soldiers' graves from their sides. Then, people began to put flowers on both the Union and the Confederate soldiers. If I were called to service, I would like to serve in any way I can, but if I were younger and could do well as a soldier, I would probably like to be in the Navy. Ever since I learned about John Paul Jones and the U.S. ship Bonhomme Richard of the Revolutionary War, U.S. Navy appealed to me; maybe, also because I love the open seas and the oceans and such. |
| Prompt: Use these Rolling Stones song titles to create something. As Tears Go Bye, Wild Horses, Can't You Hear Me Knocking, She's A Rainbow, Time Is On My Side, 19th Nervous Breakdown and Get Off My Cloud. ---------- To a Soprano she lives for her 19th nervous breakdown, translating silence into song for she’s a rainbow in a sentimental sky and I can’t say, “get off my cloud!” just maybe, time is on my side then, as tears go by like wild horses on the prairie an existence I dismiss when I hear her long meandering tunes outdoing my stories and, I bang my head on her invisible gate to scream, “Can’t you hear me knocking?” |
| Prompt: Write a story or poem about a broken promise. -------------- Guilt hard to understand how primal my need to get over this this promise that sparkled in your eyes and crossed an ocean to survive in my blood, simmering slowly as a glorious hope yet the distances spoke and I broke it with my own hands into thousand pieces and now each shard pierces through my skin, sighing, whispering, prickling like chimera inside my flesh |
| Prompt: Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it is called the present. Write anything you want about this. -------- Well, there is a plant with the name Yesterday Today and Tomorrow, which is a shrub or a small tree native to the Brazilian rainforests that blossoms late into the season. The plant has fragrant two-inch blossoms that change color with each day and each blossom lasts three days. Just like this plant, time also changes its colors as we live through it. To me, it doesn’t mean that any of the three days or what they each represent is any better than the others. History is important because we can learn from it. We can learn from it what to do and what to avoid doing. Mystery is important, too, because a hope for the better is instilled in it. Today is a gift because it is where our action and focus must be; it is where we make history to go forward to mystery. It is important because in it we show if we have learned our lessons from the history so we can create a hopeful tomorrow. Although most anyone would interpret this saying as yesterday and tomorrow are not important but today is, I believe all three are just as important. They are equally important because they show how well or poorly we manage our time, as time is a being in its own right, conceptual though it may be, just as the humans and plants are beings, too; but then, neither plants and humans nor time are permanent beings, letting this string of thought slide toward the utmost importance of what or who is the permanent one. |
| Prompt: Have you ever won a contest and found out that the prize was something totally different than advertised? Write about your experience with real life contests. ------------- Sometimes in WdC, the contest prizes can change if the contest owner receives more donations than he or she has anticipated. Then, the prizes go up and/or extra prize categories are put in. Usually, outside of WdC, contest prizes stay stable. I haven’t experienced any negative of positive change in the prizes offered. Then, maybe this is because I am not into entering too many contests. I don’t even buy a lotto ticket. Still, I think, contest owners should keep in mind a few ground rules for the integrity of their contests. If a contest-owner wants to change the prizes while the contest is running, she should immediately advertise the fact or notify the contestants and say why the rules are being changed, especially if any significant element of the promotion is being changed such a prize being eliminated, and if a necessary change wasn’t foreseeable or it isn’t under the control of the sponsor. The owner should also explain if the prizes are being affected by the change or if the change will reduce the value of any of the prizes. It’s also good to remember that the contest-owner is responsible for his or her sponsors. One other thing to keep in mind is from which state or country or internet site the contest has originated and if the change can constitute a violation of the rules of that place or site. |
| Prompt: Have your unexpected motives or your perspective (about anything) ever surprised you about yourself? If you don’t want to talk about yourself, then what about the sudden finding out about the motive or perspective of a person or persons you know? What were your feelings like? ====== I surprised myself when someone who had harmed me in some way, whom I thought I’d never forgive, had an accident and was hurt badly. I forgot all my rancor immediately and was genuinely sorry for her pain. Then, I found out that I had forgiven her even though I hadn’t caught on to that fact. Seeing my interest in her welfare, I think she was surprised, too. Sometimes, people do things they earlier thought they’d never do, and together with people who know them, they are surprised or shocked at their own behavior. I think our hearts and minds are at work non-stop, trying to heal us all the time, whether we are aware of their silent workings or not. The human subconscious is, I think, more powerful than our consciousness. We think we know who we are, our likes and dislikes, hopes and fears, and the ways we act, and we often think we are better or worse at something than we really are. In that, even the most introspective people may view themselves with distorted lens. Because we are absolutely convinced we are this way or that, when we act opposite to our views of ourselves, we are shaken or surprised by our own actions. Then sometimes we do things without any motive evident to us. What we do impulsively or as an instantaneous reaction, I think, says a lot about us. That is why it is a good idea to try to figure out why we act in the way we act suddenly without thinking or as an immediate reaction. Prompt: Do you find your work in real life, past or present, has affected your writing, positively or negatively, and do you use events from your work in your fiction or poetry? I try to stay away from mentioning my real-life work in my writing, but only on the surface. Since my work has affected me, and to a degree, has caused my life vision and beliefs to change, it has also affected my writing, by proxy. Sometimes, something escapes from my earlier work, especially into poetry, but then, it is reflected mostly as impressions. Yet, there are many fictional characters who are given real-life vocations the same as or similar to that of their writers. That is why there are many writer-characters in today’s novels. Then, Cronin who was a doctor made most of his characters into doctors or put them within the reach of the medical profession. Lawyers, too, write good courtroom, murder, or police-procedural mysteries. Not just our professions or what we do as a vocation, but all areas of our lives have an effect on our writing, even showing up in the supernatural or fantasy genres as metaphors. Prompt: It's been an interesting week in the news, what caught your attention the most? === Santa Fe School shooting. Unfortunately. While I am at it, I am going to rant about something related. I hate our political parties. Both of them. One of them insists the only way is taking care of mental health and gun control, the other insists on policing. Why can’t we do all of those things at the same time? A problem this huge deserves attacking it from all sides. You do not put only a Band-Aid on a cancer site. You try to take care of with surgery, medication, emotional support, and even radiation. This problem is no different than a cancerous growth. I think, however, our real cancer is not because of this mishap or that, but the failing of the political system, plus our personal failing of taking sides with those good-for-nothing parties. I think every one us should register as independents and make those parties really work for us. Just my two cents. |
| Prompt: Creation Saturday, let's have some fun with this words : established, profession, star, donor, fashionable, productive, reality ---- Torero In his established profession, the fashionable torero is a star, a productive donor of fresh blood from the goring of his gold tunic. In reality, he’s in it only for the ringside girl who fears for his gut with a horn in it, and yet, with a detached laugh and evasive logic, guards his electrifying nights with Sangria, and shouts, “Ole!” --- Note: I have no idea where this came from. Definitely not from Meghan and Harry's wedding! Or did it? |
| Prompt: Write a poem about a tall mountain or a tall tree. Let's take the tall tree or tall mountain and create a story with one or both of them as characters. I know you're creative, you live in Blog City. So, bring them alive. ========. If it weren’t for the starling’s song, I wouldn’t tilt my head up and observe how tall the old oak was. I smiled as its branches jiggled when the bird flew off it with couple more of its kind following. Then, I took a deep breath of the sweet, fresh air and felt the caress of the breeze, so slight that I might have imagined it. “As long as this oak lives, the spirits tied to it will look over us,” said my young companion, Chanise, her lips curved up. She was the daughter of the cook in the B&B we were staying. I winced. “Spirits?” Chanise caught my glance and bit her lower lip. “Yup, they are with the Father and they are with us at the same time. That’s what my Ma says.” “Oh!” I said, feeling emptied of any answers. This was my first time visiting the Southern Appalachia and I didn’t know much about the local beliefs. Chanise was in her early teens but almost as tall as me. She shook her tightly curled hair and smiled shyly, her eyes shining like black agates. I noticed the many colors reflected on her dusky brown skin as if a mirror would of its environs. How beautiful she is! I thought. She looked like an ancient princess with her loose-fitting dress falling straight off her shoulders to her ankles. She moved to the side of the tree, curving her arm around its trunk in a somewhat protective touch. “How do you know this tree has spirits?” I asked. “Look over there, yonder,” she said, pointing to the forest at the foot of the closest mountain. I squinted, taking in the sight of the range of the majestic Blue Mountains. ”See all those trees?” After I nodded, Chanise continued. “Those bunch together. This here tree is standing alone. You know why? It’s because of the people hanged on it.” Suddenly startled, I exclaimed, “Oh, but that’s so terrible!” “Ma says my great grandpa was hanged on it, too. For stealing a chicken, which he didn’t do.” Seeing the shock on my face, she took a few steps near me. “No more,” she said. “Folks don’t do stuff like that no more.” Of course! She was talking of the lynchings. I had read about those. “Thank God!” I said, lifting my eyes up again to the oak, standing loftily like a statue dressed in a heavy coat of emerald leaves and casting feverish shadows from its painful past. The Oak Says Something in me, I never mention as I hold my head up high, yet with fear and frayed nerves, and I lose myself in a mirror far-away in centuries under the haunting of the moon. For my green is tinged with red against the faded marks of rope circling around my ancient bark while I grieve my fate and lament the past as if some invalid begging for forgiveness for this torn world. |
Prompt: Make a list of everything that inspires you-from books to websites, paintings, movies, and anything else you can think of. -------- Just about everything inspires me. People, animals, nature, events, weather, cities, nations, any kind of information, etc. Yes, movies, too inspire me, but TV and movies don’t encourage my imagination much. I am basically a reader. I especially like books, and I can visualize anything in a book much better than a movie or TV can show it on screen. This everything revolution, if you call it that, came about after I started writing free-flow every day. After a good many years off free-flowing, I find I can write about whatever is in front of me, good or bad, but the words come, especially if I am in a quiet place and no one is talking to me and there is no noise to distract me. I really can’t make a list of things that inspire me because how do you make a list of everything? I can only pinpoint instances when an experience is so rewarding that I don’t take the time to think it is inspiring while I am in it. For example, when I am at the beach enjoying the waves or dinner with people I like or music, arts, and books; in addition, happiness when it is contagious from someone who’s happy about something in his or her life. Also, negative experiences when something leaves me sad or in a shock, which in those instances, my mind records the situation as a referral for later. What I mean is, I become the one (somewhat in an out-of-myself fashion) watching me and others experiencing that moment. As I said, everything and anything can be an inspiration when I take the time and consider it. |
| Prompt: Will you be watching the Royal Wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan? You knew this was coming. ------------ No, not if I can help it. But then, hubby likes such stuff, and if he has the TV on, chances are there won’t much escape…unless I wear my earbuds and listen to Vivaldi instead. Nevertheless, I wish the couple many years of happiness and may they be able to handle some other royal pains efficiently. Royal weddings fascinate most commoners. Royal or not, I am not into weddings. I didn’t even want mine. In fact, I tried to talk my husband into eloping, but he was too scared of my mother. I don’t blame him one bit, as I was too scared of my mother, also. Anyhow, that monstrosity is behind me for more than half a century now. Maybe this has to do with my own shortcomings. I never liked pomp or princes and those guys who acted as if they were princes. Back to royal weddings, I liked William and Kate’s, only because I liked Kate’s dress, and I still didn’t watch the wedding, not really, except there was no escape. It was everywhere for many days. I remember Diana’s dress, too, and how they used to call her fairytale princess. She did look puffed up in that clown suit, and maybe because of those fluffy dresses on weddings, I am beginning to dislike the color white. I wonder if it is just a step-up from guys’ white tees, which I mostly consider underwear. Now, Bhutan's king and queen's royal wedding of 2011 has been something else. They both wore all colors like lovebirds of Central America. I have to applaud them because, to me, anything but white would do. I’ll try to upload a photo of these two, if I can. Then, the idea of the royal bride, uniquely beautiful, intelligent, graceful, and unwavering in her commitment to stuffiness doesn’t do much for me. For once, I’d love to see a royal bride wearing black and somersaulting to the altar with the royal groom wearing white and walking stiffly beside her. How’s that for getting back at tradition!  |
| Prompt: “What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.” Walt Whitman Do you sometimes look in other people’s eyes and imagine who they may be and what they may have done with their lives? Also, do you think this is what most poets and writers do? ================ Walt Whitman’s quote is from A Song of Myself from the Leaves of Grass. It is a long poem and talks of many things, but with all due respect to the poet, in real life I can’t see a thing except someone’s irises when I look into their eyes. The rest could be totally imagination on my part. Has anyone ever looked into Osama Bin Laden’s eyes? They are pretty enough and they can belong to a regular person, but which one of us thinks he isn’t an evil tyrant? Then, one of the most disturbed persons I knew had the most gorgeous green eyes (in my opinion) and when she smiled at you, you’d believe she was heaven-sent. I think, most poets and writers, if they want to use a real person as one of their characters, take other things into consideration about the person as well as the eyes. Most of the time, when people say they saw something or other in someone’s eyes, they don’t mean the eyes themselves but other things surrounding the eyes. For example, when people are sad or worried, they furrow their brow, which makes the eyes look smaller. Or when happy, raise their eyebrows when they’re happy, making the eyes look bigger and brighter. Then, the pupil acts like the aperture on a camera, dilating or contracting to regulate the amount of light coming into the eye, the pupillary light response as it is called. Strong emotions also may have some effect on the size of the pupils but this is only noticeable probably by the eye doctors. Therefore, the poets and romantics may claim that the eyes may be the windows to the soul, but the pupils alone may show better what’s going on in the mind rather than the entire eye. |
| Prompt: Imagine yourself in a war setting where everything becomes changed and magnified. What can a war destroy? How much can success, independence, love, art, or family weigh in one’s life when everything is falling apart? ======= I was born during the World War II, in a country that was not attacked directly, but the idea of war and the subsequent threats of war have been enough to make me feel scared of being in one. For that reason alone, I have great respect for all the veterans of any country who willingly go (or have gone) to war to defend their people and the welfare of their country. Most of my reading during the last few years have been war stories; therefore, as if by proxy, I have experienced a little bit of what might happen, and it is not pretty because most of all wars are psychological and cyclical. It is as if some leader or some group occasionally starts itching to declare or go to war. I believe we all need to think about this and imagine a war, so we understand what the people caught inside a war in their country can be going through. Aside from the shortages and the fear, can you imagine how it would feel ten thousand thunderous noises above your head and the fear of being hit by a bomb of any kind, constantly? Then the maimed, dying, crying, population some of whom can be your family, relatives, neighbors, and friends? No, it is not pretty and it is not sweet, but it is something we need to think about without getting freaked out. We need to think about this so we can feel empathy for those who are being caught in a war. We need to think about this, so we can do everything in our power to stop all wars. We need to think about this, so we can pinpoint and appreciate the true peace-makers when we choose our leaders. It isn’t easy, but peace, world peace has to happen if we want to keep this planet intact for future generations. I certainly believe world peace is possible, maybe not in my lifetime, given the moodiness of mankind, but maybe in future. I sincerely hope that future comes immediately or at least, as soon as possible. |
| Prompt: Let's talk about the women in your life: after all, it is Mother's Day weekend. -------- Most memorable women who are related to me have passed on. Among them are my Grandmother and my aunts. The women who are living who are now in my life are my cousins, younger or older than me, mostly younger. I love and adore them all. But then, there are and have been other women in my life who are not related to me or I have never met, dead or alive. Those are the women who had a great influence on who I am, today. One of them was my high-school Lit teacher who introduced me to serious literature. In fact, she took extra time to spend with me and encouraged my reading in different cultures. Earlier, when I was in Junior High, the first woman who opened my eyes to the existence of who women really are, other than being there to live under the other gender, was Louisa May Alcott with her Little Women. Granted, her women still had to have men in their lives but they were their own persons. Then, I read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, whose writing I admire to this day, and most anything by the Bronte sisters, since I commiserated with Jane Eyre, who out of necessity had to fight her own way in the world. Later on, I met Madame Curie and Margaret Mead. I was so taken by Margaret Mead that I used to wish she were my mother. Funny, what teenage minds can come up with! I am writing all this because it is difficult to write about the real women in my life who helped me with my everyday living. I have loved them with all my heart and my own mother, too, but when one is so close to people, it is impossible not to see the bad together with the good. That is why I can’t write about them in full. Sometimes, in my other work such as poetry and fiction, I take one of their assets and write about that, and that is fine by me. In short, I think deep down, whether they are mothers or not, all women are strong but some don’t know it. As such, strong women always impress me, as long as they don’t flaunt their strength for flimsy reasons such as a wish for power or partisanship or for their own ends. |
| Prompt: The mirror never lies. Or does it? === Yes, it does. Have you ever looked at yourself on curved carnival mirrors in a country fair? Did you see your nose curving every which way and your mouth larger than your forehead? And your hair, where did it go? Just like anything else, there are mirrors, and then, there are mirrors. There are mirrors that only reflect your outer shape, and there are mirrors inside people’s eyes who truly love you and they reflect your loveliness with a joyous spark. After all, our humanness is our best reflection, not our outer shape. For this reason, why we covet outer shapes always passes me by. There are, however, broken people who believe in what they see in their outer shape, and despair. To them, I would like to say, “If you believe what that mirror is telling you is true, break that mirror and see what happens.” Most of the time, shards of a broken mirror show shattered images multiplied inside them, with as many images as there are mirror pieces, distorting, cutting, and multiplying shapes. That is what brokenness does. Yet, I bet you won’t break any mirrors. Heaven forbid! Who wants seven years of bad luck? And if you believe in broken mirrors bringing bad luck, I have to surmise that when big bad wolves order their underlings to do away with millions of innocent people, those innocents must have broken a million truckloads of mirrors. But that has never been the case, has it? And I have digressed again because my mind is like a spent blow poke when it exhales its last breath. And when it inhales again, a different kind of wind brings out different words. Then since I am so good with digressing, do you know I have a tiny note on my mirror that says, “This mirror may not lie. Just be happy that it is not laughing at you out loud.” So, I end up laughing at the mirror out loud, instead. Just maybe, all mirrors are for laughing at. |
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