Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Post Christmas Musings

4 a.m. Funny to think that I have gotten sick on Christmas eve-- and only to degenerate in health on Christmas day. It's funny to think that only ten hours ago was I whelmed with an intolerable cough, relentless vomiting (i suppose i should stop with the details here). Anyway, you do get the message. . . (lost in thought).Anyway, on this particular "the day before Christmas Eve", I was with my husband and daughter and we were hurrying to get some ordered cooked food for that night's Christmas Dinner. So we went to this very popular Chinese restaurant (I could descriptively write about this restaurant, but this piece is not about the restaurant) and ordered and waited till around thirty minutes to get the food we ordered. Of course, the usual rush of people toting with them umteen of glittery gift wrapped boxes and bags galore. Perhaps this image has just impressed on me . . . We were like tightly smug cherries-in-syrup bunched up in the elevator. There seemed to be an ironic ambience of provocation to let this day simply be an ordinary day . . . only much much insanely busier. So people get on, get off the elevator, minding perhaps what another passenger has tagged along with them, how to get home, how many hours left just before the food must be ready, how and where to pay for the newly swiped thousands (of pesos) for the gifts bought. So much to think of-- I felt the elevator was going to engorge itself with the ponderousness of thoughts. Much so that we have inadvertently looked over the finger the presses the button for the next floor, the hoarse (seeming scatchy for overuse) voice that calls out "going up" or "going down", the untiring hands that forestall the closing of the elevator's mouth (so as not to unfortunately pin someone or something), the eyes that seem to search around the claustrophobic box for any sense of miniscule credit every so often that a person has taken a step into his ten-hour people-moving- box-world. Perhaps when he was new, there was that glint of hope of even the soliciting slightest credit-- the slightest nod, the shyest "thank you". But today, as I looked around, I saw that neither the so-called "Christmas spirit" nor the "give love on Christmas day" feel seemed to have been egged out of that suffocating box. Finally, the upper basement: Looked him in the eye, assembled a smile, and hopefully cleared a "Merry Christmas!" to him. He said something in return only I haven't really heard it as I've been pushed by the throng of prickly bees-- (or was I conscious of actually getting off at the quickest?)._______________________________________________________________In hindsight, I do this (greeting the elevator man) sometimes much more so because of the fact that I'm with my daughter. . . that whatever she sees that I do gets to be this indelible print in her memory, thus in her subconscious behavior. Eventually, even when I'm not around, she's aware of what to do. I wouldn't want my daughter to be part of the mindless, heartless, cold, buying machines. Why do you think that elevators such as the one in SM needs to even have "button presser" or a "hand stopper"--is it just because of the fact that there may be some undue assumptions of foolishness and damages in the elevator. Perhaps it could be that. Sadly though, it is because that is all some people see them to be--functional body parts-- literal metonynies! Why not look at it this way: human presence-- much more human service is valuable. Think about bag checkers, body checkers, restroom personnel, parking ticket dispatchers -- have we all shut them off because of our incapacity to even acknowledge some human presence. Have we forgotten what it's like to look into someone's eyes? I do hope not. I desperately pray not.___________________________________________________________________"Because we have some much of these "gifts" of "advances in technology", we need to be more responsive to life. There is no excuse for it. It is either we choose to live it irrelevantly by allowing ourselves to be sucked by the two-faced lure of the evils of humankind toys. Essentially these things we have are not at all possessing evil-ness or goodness-- rather, we determine the quality of it after we have used it-- how we have used it.9:30 a.m.How funny is it to think of the possibility of reaching out to people.Have I ever fully comprehended the veracity of the bleakness of how human society is at the extremes of darkness and light?I just had this conversation with my best friend around 12 MN to around 2 a.m.Key insights: People who are "aware", unplugged about their place and role in the world, seem to need to be more understanding, accepting, tolerant, must not wait-- rather must have the initiative to reach out. It is a blessing to be one, but it is also a responsibility. rambling list of things to do:1. start reading for my classes- Of Mice and Men, Romeo and Juliet, poetry

Finally heard from the deep end of the void

I've often wondered how the world would be like in terms of the balancing of nature, humankind, science, and technology-- would it be set in such in a semblance of serving benevolently to each other. . . blogging could be one-- I've never imagined how reconciling blogging could be for the human spirit and a personal computer-- humankind is remarkable (despite its own despises). Basking in the moment of finally opening the portals of my inner voice, I now feel free. I've sometimes shunned or even postponed the fact of ever resuming into journal writing or diary writing. I've seemed to set it aside because writing in itself and reading for myself. . . meaning, what I write lies within the consumption of only myself, has become irrelevant and thus, a poor motivation for my writing. It's not at all that I wanted to be heard, to be popular, to gain laurels of acknowledgement from the-world-out-there, it's just that I have this hunger to be out-there and that being out-there is in itself significant. I welcome myself to this world out-there. Finally, I am heard from the deep end of my void.