2010 was a shitty year. There's no denying it. No matter how positively I try to look back at it, no matter how much I try to fake the stereotypical bittersweetness, I cannot hide it: it was one hell of a shitty year.
It started off on an interesting enough note, promising to be a year full of surprises. Oh, little did I know.
I went through the mother of all personal lows. Went through heartbreak and sunk into a hole that I didn't know how to crawl out of. I'd never been in one before, see.
I'm not out quite yet, but I will be.
It was a year of personal frustrations, of wanting to stretch my wings and not being able to, of not having the resources to, of not having the choice to. Of being forced by my own conscience to rein myself in.
It was a shitty professional year as well, filled with exasperation, and self-doubt, and realizations of inadequacies.
I'm not out quite yet, but I will be.
I'm so glad the year is over. I'm so glad there's an entirely new year ahead of me to do it right this time, to remember what's important and what's not, to remember who I am and who I'm not. Of what I want to devote my time to and what I want to brush aside without a second thought.
Hello, world. I'm here now, I'm back. Thank you for giving me this chance. :)
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sunday, November 21, 2010
One of my neighborhood pups died yesterday.
He was born not more than a month ago. I first saw the whole lot of them, brothers and sisters and all, at the wall around the corner of my house. They were just newborns then I guess, and were lying one on top of the other, warming themselves against the cold. They were each about as large as my palm. :)
We would periodically feed the m, so she would come around our street once in a while. It's adorable to watch all of the little buggers following her every move, short paws scampering around, jumping up at her and fighting for milk. She's tired most of the time and it probably takes all of her patience to deal with every single one of them clamoring for food and attention.
Yesterday had been a good day. Perfect, in fact. I got home feeling happy and generally at peace with life.
A car ran over one of the pups. The tires went over both his hind legs and he was hurt so badly that he couldn't even get himself to the safe side of the road without help. We calmed him down a little, but only after we managed to convince him - with slow movements and lots of petting - that we didn't mean any of the harm he had just become victim to. He settled down into the ground, exhausted and horribly injured.
My siblings and I put him into a little bag, fearful of holding him ourselves and worsening his injury. My sister drove like a maniac trying to get to the nearest Cupa as quickly as possible.
In the 15 minutes or so that the little guy was on my lap, snuggling into my hand, I grew more attached to him than I thought possible. Black with white patches but with an all-black tail, droopy ears and a quick pulse. He was so small and so vulnerable, and heartbreakingly adorable. Even in the midst of all the bleeding, he played with my hand and brushed up against the fibers of the bag he was in, playfully growling and blinking big brown eyes at me. I decided that when all of this was over, I would make him a little shelter and feed him every day. Call him TP, for TriPod. He would need the humor to help him survive the tough stray life.
When we finally got to the clinic, they told us that his entire back was shattered. And this included both legs, the bones of which had literally broken apart into pieces. His tail was crushed and wouldn't move. They didn't think he would be able to recover at such a young age, that trying to endure those injuries would kill him. So the more humane option, they said, would be to put him to sleep.
What choice did we have? My sister signed the papers, and I cried the entire way home.
How do those people live with themselves? This street is never busy. Couldn't they have waited for him to cross over to the other side and then drove on? Was it a genuine accident or some sadistic thrill? When they ran him over, everyone in every house on the street heard his cries. How could they not stop? Did they not have the hearts? Consciences? Souls?
Why do they get away and why does such an innocent creature die? How does that make any sense?
He was born not more than a month ago. I first saw the whole lot of them, brothers and sisters and all, at the wall around the corner of my house. They were just newborns then I guess, and were lying one on top of the other, warming themselves against the cold. They were each about as large as my palm. :)
We would periodically feed the m, so she would come around our street once in a while. It's adorable to watch all of the little buggers following her every move, short paws scampering around, jumping up at her and fighting for milk. She's tired most of the time and it probably takes all of her patience to deal with every single one of them clamoring for food and attention.
Yesterday had been a good day. Perfect, in fact. I got home feeling happy and generally at peace with life.
A car ran over one of the pups. The tires went over both his hind legs and he was hurt so badly that he couldn't even get himself to the safe side of the road without help. We calmed him down a little, but only after we managed to convince him - with slow movements and lots of petting - that we didn't mean any of the harm he had just become victim to. He settled down into the ground, exhausted and horribly injured.
My siblings and I put him into a little bag, fearful of holding him ourselves and worsening his injury. My sister drove like a maniac trying to get to the nearest Cupa as quickly as possible.
In the 15 minutes or so that the little guy was on my lap, snuggling into my hand, I grew more attached to him than I thought possible. Black with white patches but with an all-black tail, droopy ears and a quick pulse. He was so small and so vulnerable, and heartbreakingly adorable. Even in the midst of all the bleeding, he played with my hand and brushed up against the fibers of the bag he was in, playfully growling and blinking big brown eyes at me. I decided that when all of this was over, I would make him a little shelter and feed him every day. Call him TP, for TriPod. He would need the humor to help him survive the tough stray life.
When we finally got to the clinic, they told us that his entire back was shattered. And this included both legs, the bones of which had literally broken apart into pieces. His tail was crushed and wouldn't move. They didn't think he would be able to recover at such a young age, that trying to endure those injuries would kill him. So the more humane option, they said, would be to put him to sleep.
What choice did we have? My sister signed the papers, and I cried the entire way home.
How do those people live with themselves? This street is never busy. Couldn't they have waited for him to cross over to the other side and then drove on? Was it a genuine accident or some sadistic thrill? When they ran him over, everyone in every house on the street heard his cries. How could they not stop? Did they not have the hearts? Consciences? Souls?
Why do they get away and why does such an innocent creature die? How does that make any sense?
Friday, November 5, 2010
#....?
Writing on this blog is like exercise. If I don't keep at it, I forget that it's necessary and healthy and must be a regular part of my life.
It's been a while since I wrote. Or exercised, for that matter.
Life has been pleasant. There have been problems, glitches, speed-breakers, etc., but overall, it has been pleasant enough for me to feel grateful. I love that I have these friends and this family, and that I live in this city. It's more than I could ask for.
I don't know how I would survive without my loved ones. I don't mean to say that I have this tragic life and they're the only ones keeping me afloat. It's just that they give me so much joy and love and happiness and color - such bright color! - that I cannot imagine my life without them. I refuse to imagine my life without them.
I think I live too much in the moment, though. I don't seem to ever think ahead. And I don't mean 'let's plot out the weekend' kind of planning. I mean, 'Do I want to do this for the rest of my life' kind of planning. I've been thinking of the effects of my actions (my inaction, rather), and how I need to get out of comfort zones and soft corners where things seem just so dandy.....not.
Time to shake off the cobwebs. It's never too late.
Don't be surprised if I ask for help. I know I'll get it from you guys. :)
It's been a while since I wrote. Or exercised, for that matter.
Life has been pleasant. There have been problems, glitches, speed-breakers, etc., but overall, it has been pleasant enough for me to feel grateful. I love that I have these friends and this family, and that I live in this city. It's more than I could ask for.
I don't know how I would survive without my loved ones. I don't mean to say that I have this tragic life and they're the only ones keeping me afloat. It's just that they give me so much joy and love and happiness and color - such bright color! - that I cannot imagine my life without them. I refuse to imagine my life without them.
I think I live too much in the moment, though. I don't seem to ever think ahead. And I don't mean 'let's plot out the weekend' kind of planning. I mean, 'Do I want to do this for the rest of my life' kind of planning. I've been thinking of the effects of my actions (my inaction, rather), and how I need to get out of comfort zones and soft corners where things seem just so dandy.....not.
Time to shake off the cobwebs. It's never too late.
Don't be surprised if I ask for help. I know I'll get it from you guys. :)
Friday, September 3, 2010
Forgiveness
I've realized that it's not anger, or bitterness, or hatred or frustration in me. It's just regret, and guilt. And the lack of a will to forgive.
To forgive every circumstance that lead me to this, forgive every little contribution to this state of being. To forgive the universe for getting me into this despite all of the faith I put into it.
To forgive myself for getting into this.
To forgive all the bad and remember only the good, because otherwise this little heart will turn black.
To forgive every circumstance that lead me to this, forgive every little contribution to this state of being. To forgive the universe for getting me into this despite all of the faith I put into it.
To forgive myself for getting into this.
To forgive all the bad and remember only the good, because otherwise this little heart will turn black.
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