Archive for the ‘Loony Moon Days’ Category

Contemplating on art

Sunday, 2 January 11

 

Thinking again of the long road ahead.

“To contribute toward the future, the artist must have a keen intellect, a strong body, and compassionate spirit, as well as a developed inner vision and far-reaching outer sight. Keep your eye simultaneously on your next step and on the long horizon.

Cultivate stamina, for the artist’s vocation is strenuous. It is not for everyone.”

— Deborah J. Haynes

 

Confusing MS news

Tuesday, 30 March 10

I’m glad they’re doing a lot of research on Multiple Sclerosis, but this new info is just confusing: “The ultraviolet (UV) portion of sunlight stimulates the body to produce vitamin D, and both vitamin D and UV can regulate the immune system and perhaps slow MS.” Okay… but the heat from sunlight aggravates the other symptoms like malaise and chronic fatigue. Sigh. Perhaps one can just get UV rays from those tanning beds and not have the heat. What do you do about skin cancer, though?

Chicken and the egg. Read more about it here:  Exploring the link between sunlight and multiple sclerosis at the Science Daily website.

Procrastination becomes her

Wednesday, 21 May 08

I am having one of my monumental artist blocks and panic attacks, so I am going to indulge myself a bit and give in to a little procrastination. Hey, most of my best works come out when I get lost in nonsense and let the creativity thing kick in in my head. Madness, madness, madness…

My friend Tiffany tagged me a while back (via email) and asked me to write “10 things about me you didn’t know” and set the following rules:

– Each blogger must post these rules first.
– Each blogger starts with 10 random facts/habits about themselves.
– Bloggers who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their 10 things and post these rules.
– At the end of your blog, you need to choose 10 people to get tagged and list their names.
– Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog

Sounds easy enough… Here it goes:

1) I found comfort in cold ears when I was young. I used to stick mine right next to the air-conditioning vents and would wait till they were at the point of freezing and falling off. Then I would lie down and touch my ears until I would fall asleep. Good luck trying to psychoanalyze that!

2) I was born yellow. Yes, as in jaundiced, and stayed that way for weeks.

3) I was a preemie (which explains number 2). I was supposed to be a Virgo or Libra, but considering how stubborn and determined and hot-headed I was, I forced myself out of my mother’s womb and came out a true-blue Leo.

4) I burst into tears when I read that they shaved off Aslan’s fur. Not the hair, not the hair… I was 7 (I think).

5) I used to put a flashlight against my right eye and turn it on. I loved staring at the light bulb up close. That explains the glasses.

6) I saw the Lion King (the musical) in Dutch in 2004. Thank God I saw the movie.

7) Speaking of which, I was carrying a Lion King toy from McDonald’s when I was mugged in Madrid. I passed out for about 5 seconds and found myself lying on the ground looking straight into Simba’s beady eyes. I was overcome with anger, got up, grabbed my stuffed lion, and ran after my attacker.

8) I wasn’t allowed to drink soda or eat anything sour when I was a kid. I was extremely acidic.

9) I was confined in the hospital for mumps when Mount Pinatubo erupted.

10) I used to get tanned (toasted, more like it) during school fairs from riding the Octopus all day. I am not afraid of heights or whiplash.

I don’t always follow the rules so I am not tagging anyone (and this could be considered as item number 11). I’ll just leave this open for anyone who would like to spill and share 10 things about themselves. Go ahead… Knock yourselves out.

PS. Gossip Girl episode 18 has finally finished downloading. Procrastination rules!

Loosening my grip

Friday, 25 April 08

Breathe in, breathe out. My head is still out of whack, but at least I am starting to see myself again… or at least a semblance of Steph. The image, though, is still ambiguous and fuzzy, and the cracks are still there. I need to just keep breathing till I figure out what to do. I just hope I don’t huff and puff too much and blow pieces of myself all over the place!

I was talking to a friend last night and I kept wailing to her over and over again, “I was fine last week. Everything was rosy and sweet. I was fine last week.” Life is unquestionably uncertain and the Universe has an unbelievably twisted sense of humor. I know it, you know it, even your Grandma knows it, and yet we all get surprised when the wheel turns and we find ourselves in the bottom rung. How did I get here?

My tarot card of the day is Heart. Yeah, it’s not from a normal deck; it’s from my friend Dori’s set. I try not to read my own cards, but I give in once in a while, pull out one when I need clarity. It does help you get a grip on your reality and see your situation with different eyes. Sometimes the cards that come out are so ridiculous; they kick me in the butt and drive some sense into me. How low should I go before I can go back up again?

Going back to Heart… it means, “Muscular thumping love. Hark the rhythmic beat of the core, feel the systems of flow, new life pumped into you. Self-love, a priority. Heart’s desire. Compassion without self-sacrifice. An open flower in your chest.” I always get this card. I guess I still don’t get it. I contemplate on all the statements and I can see how they can all relate to me… and I still don’t get it. I know exactly what to say when I’m reading someone else, but on me…? Forget it.

I am exhausted and depleted. My friend advised me to just breathe and just listen and sit still. Life is unpredictable and leaves us no breathing room, but I can try to loosen my grip and try not to take control of the uncontrollable and just learn how to breathe through it all. So here I go… gently breathing in and out… trying hard not to sound like my dear Darth.

Density

Tuesday, 22 April 08

I’ve been up and down like mercury the whole weekend. I’m physically exhausted and I am mentally incapable of doing anything constructive, not even to put one foot in front of the other and move on. I’ve been trying to establish order or some kind of pattern within just so I could make sense of everything. I was never really good at this. My spirit growls in hunger and I have no idea how to feed it.

I wish that the weather would cooperate for once. I can’t stand any more of this heat. I feel pan-fried and desiccated and ready to be served up to some god to be consumed and discarded in bits and pieces. I need a massive blizzard to feel uninterrupted again. Now I understand that when an icy heart melts and no one is around or is willing enough to catch it, it goes away forever and leaves an unfathomable, frosty gorge in its stead.

I’m scared of having one of those days again. I still feel inept and pathetically ill-equipped to face another one of those curve balls the Cosmos tries to throw at you when you are not looking. I should have known this would happen. And here I am again, watching teardrops explode and enduring little earthquakes. I’ve seriously underestimated my capacity for feeling. Solitary confinement sounds incredibly logical at this moment.

Minerva

Monday, 24 March 08

Minerva

This is Minerva. I created her as an “illustration” for a local magazine.

I’m exhausted. I wish I could write right now. I’ve been dying to write for days… but my brain refuses to cooperate! UGH. Sigh. I feel so guilty for neglecting my blog so I uploaded one of my digital collages instead. At least I have a new post, right? ;)

Steph The Sphinx

Saturday, 16 February 08

I feel as if I’ve just opened Pandora’s Box. I don’t think I’ve brought on Armageddon to the World, but I believe I might have brought it on to myself. I don’t think I’ve sicked the Reaper on little old me, but I might have triggered the beginning of an end of something… in my head. I’m sorry; I am suffering from verbal constipation. I can’t get anything out so I am not making any sense here… bleeaarrggghh.

I woke up extremely late today. It was around 13:20 when I finally opened my lids and thought about crawling out of my bed. This is pretty unusual for me because I’ve been habitually waking up at the first sign of sunlight. I even retired early (before midnight)—yet another atypical move on my part since I normally hit the sack at 3ish AM and, therefore, clocking in an average of 3-4 hours of sleep per night. What’s even more remarkable is that this is the 2nd time this happened to me in the last five days!

Ok, my body was bound to crash at some point (with 3 hours of sleep per night? Hello, I’m no spring chicken anymore!), but I think it’s more than that; this may be an aftershock of the unlocking of my personal Pandora’s Box. I still can’t give you a full account of that incident… I don’t even know if I ever will… which is making this entry a bit of a cryptic mess and making this whole blogging thing next to impossible for me. I don’t want to talk about it, but I feel the need to tiptoe around it and see if I could make sense of what happened.

It transpired last Monday—that much I can say. I’ve been going through a bumpy patch in my life lately and was sinking deeper and deeper into the quagmire of my dark thoughts. I was in desperate need of a reprieve so I took the lifeline that was dangled in front of me by a complete stranger. I went with the flow and threw all my doubts and Cynic Steph out the window. It was taxing in every level you could think of, but I’d like to think that that little adventure into the unknown paid off. I felt alive and was giddy and excited and enthusiastic about my life again.

I am still riding that wave of euphoria—still buoyant and thrilled about the possibilities, but I think part of me is starting to grow dim once more. I feel desolate and hopeful at the same time. Is that even possible? Does that make sense? I just want to turn off my head and sleep. I’m exhausted from pushing and pushing… Maybe my body is telling me to regenerate, to hibernate for a bit, to stop fighting and resisting. I know I am far from untangling myself from the Box, but I’d like to think that I’m finally on my way to breaking away from it or even obliterating it. I still don’t know when I’m finally going to reach escape velocity (how can I when my body feels like a ton of bricks), but I’d like to think that it is well within my reach already. I hope I don’t miss it though by being too worried about it.

Again… does any of this make sense to you? *Sigh* I’m channeling the Sphinx with great passion; I’m spewing more and more questions and riddles than solutions. Oh, and I am so ready to slay the unfortunate wayfarers who come my way who cannot give me the correct answers! HAHAHA! At least I feel passion for something again! Teeheehee. Ayayay… What a conundrum, eh!

Passion

Friday, 8 February 08

Passion.
It lies in all of us.
Sleeping,
waiting,
and though unwanted,
unbidden.
it will stir,
open its jaws, and howl.

It speaks to us,
guides us.
Passion rules us all.
And we obey.
What other choice do we have?

Passion is the source of our finest moments.
The joy of love,
the clarity of hatred,
and the ecstasy of grief.

It hurts sometimes more than we can bear.
If we could live without passion,
maybe we’d know some kind of peace.
But we would be hollow.
Empty rooms, shuttered and dank,
without passion, we’d be truly dead.

–Angelus narrates
“Passion”
Season 2—Episode 17
Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I just saw a rerun of “Passion” on AXN Beyond, which, for me, was probably one of the best and beautifully written episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer of all time. At least it’s in my top 10 best. Creator Joss Whedon broke the mold right here. The series up to this point was already inimitable, exciting, and remarkable, but this turned the whole thing around and set a different tone to the show and pushed it on to the right road to becoming a cult favorite and classic.

I personally liked this episode because it reflected the passion and drive the creators had for the series. They gambled and pushed the limits that existed for TV shows during that time. They meant business. They were not afraid to go deep into the murky recesses of their minds and bring us along for the ride. They were ruthless and cold and had no qualms about killing a character to fortify a storyline. No one was safe. Buffy was not just another teenage angst ridden, campy fantasy series; it made you think, feel, and see things differently. It was more real to me than any other show that was being aired during that era–even if I was not a vampire or a Slayer or part of some Scoobydoo gang (Although I wanted to be a blood-sucking, night crawling creature! heh).

“If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank, without passion, we’d be truly dead.”

Would you like to lead a life without passion and not experience the risks, joys, follies, madness, exhilaration that come with it? I think not. I might as well be dead.

Waiting to inhale

Monday, 4 February 08

Breathless

I forget to breathe sometimes. No, that’s not right—every so often I would stop myself from breathing. I’d feel lightheaded and my jaws would lock and then I’d realize that—ooooops—I had forgotten to inhale again. Hey, is it possible for someone to suffer from chronic asphyxiation?

There… I’m doing it yet again. I seem to have overlooked the fact that breathing was a natural, automatic activity and that I should just leave my lungs alone to take in and release air. I should just trust them to do their job.

I feel as if I’m constantly waiting for something to take place or come to an end … or that I’m preventing a cycle from ending or beginning. I always find myself standing on the edge of a precipice over an expanding chasm… anxiously waiting, wondering and being thrifty with my breath. I’m slowly drowning on dry land; the undertow created by my desperate, ragged gasps for air steadily drags me under into the bitter, disconsolate place of nothingness.

In Memoriam

Saturday, 3 November 07

The Little One

Little Loki
August – October 2007

Names have power. I was thinking about that when I named the latest canine addition to our family. The maid rescued him from the neighbors who were bleaching his fur with Chlorox (I guess everyone—including pets—have to be immaculately white to be deemed acceptable in Philippine society). He was a mischievous little rascal with sad charming eyes, sharp teeth and claws. He made his presence felt the minute he trotted in—he emitted a high pitched bark and tirelessly yowled at the older dogs who were shocked, scared, excited, and intrigued by his presence. No one attacked; a lot of sniffing and tail wagging ensued. At the end of the meeting all the witnesses agreed on one thing: the new Alpha Male was in da house.

Loki was the only name I could think of and he lived up to it as days and weeks passed by. Like his namesake, he was getting increasingly endearing and dangerous at the same time. He loved to lick people’s toes and gently nibble on their ankles. Once their guard was down, though, he would viciously attack their flip-flops. It usually took 3 pairs of steady hands and a crowbar to pry the mangled rubber slippers from his jaws. The other dogs also fell victim to his wily charms—they would run around, chasing after a bird one minute and then, frustrated, the Little One would pounce and start chomping on their tails the next. He was beguiling and unpredictable, but we all fell for him.

We didn’t realize, though, that as he wormed through our hearts, something else was worming through his. He lost his appetite last Tuesday and moped around all day. On Wednesday morning they found blood in his stool. He was gone by 7PM that night.

:(

Here’s to you, sweet Loki. I hope that you are somewhere in canine Heaven playfully harassing other dogs and having your fill of your favorite Havaianas.

Goodnight, Little One. You will never be forgotten.