Thursday, February 12, 2009

Bahrain

i woke up in a yellow world. it was very yellow outside and i thought it was just the window tint. some effects. but when i went to the bathroom where the window was open and evrything was yellow, i knew i had to ask before i freak out that i'm color blind except for yellow.


sandstorm lang pala... after an hour, back to normal ang kulay ng room. but when i went outside (where i had to walk to the end of the street coz the car can't go inside our street coz of road construction) the other buildings weren't visible because of the thick dust and sand.

i hate sandstorm. my head was aching all day coz dust gathered in my contact lens. how was i supposed to know it would hurt that much?

of chain mails and books

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

books

i always receive these chain mails, from messages about my horoscope  to dying children, which all states usually at the last line of the message that you will get blank days of bad luck if you don't forward it to a number of friends, or a promise of something good to happen to you tomorrow (like they were sure you'd still be alive tomorrow) if you forward it. the number of years of your good/bad luck depends on how many people you send it to. one message even promises of a ghost to visit you tonight if you don't share the ghost's story to all your contacts. (like the ghost monitors all the people who have received and read that *adjective here* message)


oh well. as usual, and as always, and as i would normally do, i get on with reading my other mails than take my time to tick all my contacts' name on the address book, knowing that i will be sparing them the fear and anxiousness of having blank years of bad luck if they don't forward that *adjective here* message. here's the thing, tonight, i just deleted a message which proudly told me that i will get 24 years of bad luck. so i will be 49 by the time my years of bad luck will finish. do i care? as long as God is with me, no mail will predict my luck. besides my pastor told us before that there's no such thing as luck. so good luck to all who forwards chain mails (haha--kidding!)



so i just finished reading the book entitled The Lost Boy... and at first i was teary-eyed reading his experience. i can somehow relate. i mean, i haven't been abused or tortured, but being hungry for his parents' love. and i have two brothers that i'm protective of (though they resent it) i don't want anybody to hurt or abuse them, like what happened to this child. so while i read this boy's misery under her own mother's abusive nature, i feel my heart ache. but half-way through the story, i realized that it was somehow wrong. he has grown. but his story went on.

okay. i am not a critic. and i am not judging this man. but to be beaten by his mother, while her other brothers enjoy the privilege of being a human being, he must have done something wrong. his father was there and his mother still hurt him, meaning his father is consenting on his mother's actions, must mean she doesn't do it just because she wants to, right?

i am a woman. i might be a mother someday, or not. okay, let's put it this way. i am human. and as human, i commit mistakes. and his mother must have reasons for her actions. why would she drink too much in the first place? (coz there was a conclusion that said maybe it was chemical imbalance from her drunkenness which caused her to beat him or hurt him) there are always two sides of the story. and him writing against his own mother doesn't make him any different from the Mother and her judgement and cruelty. he has written against her. he should have had the decency of letting other people put her mother down.

and all his actions while he was growing up only made me believe more that he was doing something wrong and his mother was right for punishing him. if he were a good boy, and his mother just beat him just because she wants to, after he left the House, he would have been a good boy. right? but, no. he would always get himself into trouble. and would do things he knew wasn't right. he stole, and justifying his deed through his books, repeatingly stating he was a confused boy. if a confused boy is a good boy but just confused, he still will not steal. that's my opinion. i don't know the man, i'm just stating my opinion. i wasn't abused when i was a child, but i knew how it was to grow up without proper guidance from my own parents. but i didn't rebel against my better judgement. i'm not judging him, i promise. i'm just writing down my opinion. on my page.

bottom-line is, he has grown. his story should have had ended at the time the social workers helped him out of his then hellish house. he was found already at that point. but it went on. the title should have been the boy who got himself lost because he wouldn't listen to the elderly but follows his instinct judging from his past, defensively carrying out actions because he thinks he is lost. 

no judgement.