Saturday, February 4, 2012

THE STATUE, THE MAN


A dream, an imagination or for real?

I looked at the statue, about a foot-size, it stopped turning its head from left to right to look back at me. A tiny smile on its lips.

I was lying on the bed but sat up with a start and shouted, “Stop!”

As if gliding, it descended from the four-and-a half-foot cabinet it was sitting on and transformed into a man.

Seated on my bed, I continued to cry out, “Stop!”  louder this time but i could feel my throat start to tighten.

Still floating, the statue that is now a man continued to come nearer, looking back at me without any expression on its face but I can feel and see the contempt very evident in his eyes. Without opening his mouth, I could hear him shouting back at me with words I could not understand.

Feeling like being nailed on the bed, I struggled to get up but could not. With both my hands held up high, I forced my voice out and yelled, “Stop!” , making sure that he heard me. 

He continued to approach with his gliding motion and deliberately, also raised his hands and locked them with mine.

With our eyes and hands locked together, we both continued to yell at each other. He, with his incomprehensible words and I...I just kept shouting at him while struggling to pull my hands from his tight grip.

Suddenly, I heard the bathroom door open and saw my husband come out. The man that was a statue, still without any expression on his face, released my hands and calmly backed away, scorn still fills his eyes.

My husband started to shake me to wake me up. I slowly opened my eyes as I saw the man or was it a statue, gradually disappear in the background.

"A dream, a figment of my creative mind or for real?"  ")

little birdie


Oh little birdie,
Peeking from a tree
"Look, look back at me.
I am holding a slingshot
Aiming at thee..."

and he said "HELLO"


AND HE SAID “HELLO”

It has been more than 25 years but I still think about him.
I still can’t believe that after all these years I would see him again, and of all places not in this remote province of Dumaguete.

It has been a habit every time I visit Dumaguete, I would stroll by the Boulevard and take pictures of its ever-changing scenes and sceneries – as if there are changes.
 It was near dusk. I was just going thru my usual routine. Walk along the Boulevard, look, take pictures of the landscape and its people. As I scan the faces of the people thru the viewfinder I suddenly froze. The face I was focusing on and who was looking straight at me was very familiar. I lowered my camera, looked at him when he suddenly smiled.
I smiled back. He stood up and walked towards me. The man has dark curly brown hair with a hint of gray.  His smile was friendly reaching his brown eyes. As I look in his eyes, there was a familiar glint. When he was about five feet away, he said, “Hello.”
I said, “Hi.”
Then he asked, “Tabs?”
My heart skipped a beat. There is only one person who calls me that. “Tisoy?” I asked back pointing a finger at him.
He laughed so hard it brought me back to reality. A laugh so familiar it brought warmth to my heart.

Monday, December 6, 2010

famous quotes by Lucy Van Pelt

Schroeder: This is the music I've selected for the Christmas play.
[
Schroeder plays Fur Elise]

Lucy Van Pelt: What kind of Christmas music is *that*?

Schroeder: Beethoven Christmas music.




Lucy Van Pelt: What has Beethoven got to do with Christmas? Everyone talks about how "great" Beethoven was. Beethoven wasn't so great.
[Schroeder stops playing]

Schroeder: What do you mean Beethoven wasn't so great?

Lucy Van Pelt: He never got his picture on bubblegum cards, did he? Have you ever seen his picture on a bubblegum card? Hmmm? How can you say someone is great who's never had his picture on bubblegum cards?

Schroeder: Good grief.