2008 New Year's Resolutions

This coming 2008 (damn, typing that felt really awkward), I will…

Choose life.

Choose another job.

Choose a worthwhile career.

Choose a pink shirt.

Choose friends over dates.

Choose a fucking big television set.

Choose washing machines, cars, ipod touch and electrical tin openers.

Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance.

Choose red tea.

Choose to stay young and fresh... hahaha...

Choose not to grab all I can but to selectively choose the best.

Choose a peaceful life over fame.

Choose to go back to the gym.

Choose to forgive and forget.

Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments.

Choose a starter home.

Choose a new scent.

Choose to sing.

Choose to grow up but not too fast.

Choose to listen.

Choose to say NO.

Choose a condo unit in Makati.

Choose my friends.

Choose leisurewear and matching fabrics.

Choose a religion and wonder who the fuck I am on a Sunday morning.

Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into my mouth.

Choose eating ice cream, popcorn and dvd marathon over boy-hunting in Malate.

Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing my last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brat I spawned to replace myself.

Choose to be happy.

Choose my future.

Choose to move on.

Choose the right way, but not always.

Choose a pet.

Choose the beach.

Choose a new gadget.

Choose praying rather than watching porn... (Lord help me.)

Choose writing again.

Choose my husband who would stay.

Choose life...

Spirit of CHRIST-mas

In this busy season, we need to take time out from the hustle and bustle to reflect and focus on why we celebrate Christmas.... the birth of the Saviour who was born to die so our sins can be forgiven.

We need to take time to pray for peace, feel joy and share with others the real reason for Christmas.

The greatest gift we can give to others is to share the greatest gift of all... Jesus.

To catch the real meaning of the "Spirit of Christmas," we need only to drop the last syllable of the word, and it becomes the "Spirit of Christ." It beckons us to follow him, and become worthy of the blessedness which he promised to the most unlikely people --- the poor in spirit, the sorrowful, the meek, the seekers after righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and even the persecuted and the oppressed.

Let us remember that the Christmas heart is a giving heart, a wide open heart that thinks of others first. The birth of the baby Jesus stands as the most significant event in all history, because it has meant the pouring into a sick world of the healing medicine of love which has transformed all manner of hearts for almost two thousand years...

Underneath all the bulging bundles is this beating Christmas heart.

Bibingka and Puto Bumbong

Bibingka

No Filipino Christmas is ever without bibingka and puto-bumbong. They are inexorably associated with misa de gallo, the dawn mass on the nine days before Christmas. While they are more common as street food, they are so popular (even among tourists) that even five star hotels serve them --- using the traditional cookware --- during the holiday season.

When we Filipinos see street vendors cooking and selling puto bumbong and bibingka, we can almost “smell” Christmas. Bibingka is a rice cake made from galapong, baked in a special clay pot, lined with a piece of banana leaf, with live coals on top and underneath. It is topped with slices of kesong puti (white cheese) and itlog na maalat (salted duck eggs). The newly-cooked bibingka is spread with butter and sometimes sprinkled with sugar then served with niyog (grated coconut).

Galapong is glutinous rice soaked in water then ground with the water to form either a batter or a dough, depending on what the cooked dish is supposed to be.

Puto bumbong

They say that the Philippines has the longest Christmas celebration. Beginning with the first month that ends with ber, Christmas is in the air. Well, here’s something that no Pinoy Christmas is never without.

Puto bumbong --- purpled-colored ground rice cooked in bamboo tubes that are placed on a special steamer-cooker. Then, they are removed from the bamboo tubes, spread with butter and sprinkled with sugar and niyog (grated coconut). They are then wrapped in wilted banana leaves which will keep them warm and moist until ready to be eaten. Along with bibingka, puto bumbong is inexorably linked with simbanggabi--the dawn mass on the nine days preceeding Christmas.

Filipinos who have lived abroad for a long time must miss bibingka, puto bumbong and simbanggabi.

This one’s for all of you.

Trick of Fate: Happy monthsary Dee

I love him. At least I think I do.

I love the way he tastes, the way he makes my heart skip a beat when I see him, how that he makes me feel so wonderfully, how I can be myself around him. I don't know if I am 'in love' as they say, but I know that I love him deeply. And I think, I know, he loves me too.

Is that something that I question against? No, I just know for a fact that I love him and that if you love someone, then you have a bond, especially if the other has feelings for you too. Oh I don't claim to be a genius on this subject, no; I have had little experience in actually loving someone. I’ve gone out with a variety of people but never have I felt what I feel around him.

No.

Maybe this is the real thing, maybe, but maybe it's only puppy love. But if its puppy love, then why in only a few weeks do we know each others life stories, aspirations, dreams, future plans? Why do we constant cling to each other and face the world as if we'll never be apart? Why is it that we can joke around and yet still be serious?

When we talk, it's like the worlds just flow, and when they do stop, the silence is perfect, not harsh nor cold. It's perfect, like the way he holds my hands, shelters me from the cold, kisses my lips as he tells me that I would look beautiful no matter what. It's almost as perfect as the way he says the most perfect things, at always the right time.

I need him. I need his smile, his laugh, his voice, his arms. But I think he needs me too. He needs to know how a rose smells on a spring day, how innocent a young love can be, but how real at the same time. He needs me to tell him that time is valuable but a missed date means nothing because there will be other dates, other movies, other walks. But it is he who tells me that every missed second is a second away from paradise, a second away from heaven.

Sometimes I just look at him and think; maybe I’ve been through so much bad to have this little piece of good. And that makes it all worth while.

He told me I was a diamond in the rough, but it is he who makes me shine and glimmer as a crown jewel. He tells me as our fingers entwine and do a sacred dance, of plans of years to come. Never doubting for a second the length of this relationship, it's like he knows that we'll last. He has confidence for the both of us.

And as I rest my head on his shoulder and he whispers loving words in my ears, I think that maybe he's right, that we will stay together longer than the average.

I turn and face him, and as he smiles, I tell him that I believe in him as much as he believes in me.

He tells me he loves me, and as we kiss...

I think, I love you too.

Happy monthsary Dee.

I AM ME

I believe I am almost as good as who everyone wants me to be, who everyone expects me to be. I'm almost as good as Little Mister Perfect. I am almost as good as Mommy's Little Boy. Almost as good as the perfect manager, I'm almost the strong one. The guy that won't break under pressure. Almost like everyone else.

But the key word here is almost...

Because I'm not Mister Perfect. I'm not Mommy's Little Boy. I'm not the perfect manager. I've never been the strong one. I do break under pressure. And I am certainly not like everyone else...

I'm only as good as my own expectations.

I am me.

This I so believe

I believe in my mother. I know most children do, but saying it as an adult, I feel it carries much more impact. So I say it now: I believe in my mother perfectly, unquestioningly, not least because we seem to agree on nearly everything. She and I are like the same person, one future, one past, but both in the same present.

She taught me many things, but the first and most important was always, “love yourself”. Never falter in loving who you are, what you are. Never tell yourself that you're not attractive... never tell yourself that you're stupid. Be unashamed. Feel handsome, and you will look it, feel smart, and someday you will achieve it. One is not set in stone, but is a living, breathing person, capable of mutations and changes galore. Wear your skin and hair and face and heart like designer clothing. She told me this in not so many words every day and I took it to heart, and still do. I relish myself, my shortcomings as well as talents, because they've made the person that so many other people are proud to call a friend.

She taught me compassion. Don't hate someone just because they stutter when they speak. Don't make fun of or ignore them just because they happen to be a boy and have a boyfriend or a girl and have a girlfriend. Talk to them. Treat them like you would any other person, and pass on the love a little bit. Who knows, you could meet the person who ends up being your best friend or saving your life from a giant snake like that, and all because you decided to delve a little deeper.

She taught me to fight the man, the oppressor. Don't let them push you down, stereotype you, sort you into neat little sects for them to catalogue and file away. Don't let commercialism or money monopolize your life and push out love and happiness and all the things that really matter. Don't get so lost in personal gain that you forget that there are others around you.

She taught me that everyone's life is their own. Do what you wish, but don't condemn others who do things you would never do - it's their life, their body, their choice. People every day are abused and harassed because they chose to abort a baby - called sinners, murderers, bad parents. And yet, is it our place to judge these people that we've probably never even met, over the life of a baby that may not have been the best life in the first place?

Of course, this also brings up the matter of religion. People are killing each other now, and have been since the beginning of time, over religion. Countless deaths, all for a thing we can't see, in the name of something written down in an old book. And yet, who cannot say they've felt spiritual at least one point in their life? Who can say they haven't felt connected, felt like for one moment everything is perfect? If people could learn to share in that joy, rather than tie themselves down to petty squabbles over what color robe Jesus was wearing at the last supper, perhaps the world would be a better place.

Most importantly, she taught me to love. Everything and everyone, regardless of who or what they are. She taught me to accept, to reserve judgment until I've got evidence, to always give someone the benefit of my doubt.

She taught me to forgive, but not to forget: oh no. Forgive and learn, my friends. Save up your past mistakes, so that you can learn from them in time, and perhaps love even more because of it. The world could always use a little more love.

I believe in my Mother, soundly and perfectly.

I believe in life, love, and John Lennon: "whatever gets you through the night, that's all right."

I Love You Dee

I Love You.

I look at those words and they deflate me. Eight letters (well, seven technically, because you use the "o" twice). Just three simple words are supposed to make you understand how I feel for you. Eskimos have 50 billion words for snow, and yet I'm supposed to say "I Love You," a phrase that can mean a billion different things.

I learned to say those words before I could even form a complete sentence! Through the years I've said them to a lot of people and each time it's meant something different. I've said it to relatives as a way to goodbye. I've said it to friends as a way to say, hey man you're funny and cool. I even said it to the lady at the bank when I got my first credit card.

So why is some generic phrase such as "I Love You" the best they've come up with for expressing your most personal and deepest feelings to the person you intend to spend the rest of your life with? Maybe because it fits on those little candy hearts...

Well, guess what? You mean more than just those eight letters to me. You mean more than any words can describe.

I wish you could feel my emotions, because "I Love You" just doesn't describe the way I feel about you. You should wear my soul like a wetsuit and experience the tingling that occurs under my skin while I sit in my station and daydream of you. Or maybe you could be there as my brain cranks up each morning (technically afternoon, since we both work graveyard) and rolls the first two products off its assembly line; your name and my smile.

You should be able to undergo the explosions of happiness that shoot from my eyeballs when I talk to you and about you. And you need to experience how my heart becomes saturated with orgasms when I know I've made you happy, or feel what it's like to throw up a rainbow just by realizing that you exist.

I will always tell you "I Love You," even though I'll never think the words mean enough. But, just remember that when I say it to you, it means something exclusive, shared only between me and you. And feelings that only you can generate will ride on the words and fill up my soul every time I say it.

Now, and forever, whether I'm saying it as goodbye, or because I think you're funny and cool, or even because you gave me my first credit card, "I Love You" today and "I Love You" tonight and "I Love You" tomorrow. "I Love You" this week, this month, this year....

Forever.

I have never loved anyone before you. I know that to be true, because nobody has ever made me feel what you make me feel. I know we are meant to be together and I will do everything possible to make that happen.

I Love You Dee.

WHO AM I?

Who I am is wrapped up in my passions, my drive, my ambitions, my music, my inspirations, my books, my friends, my ideals, my principles, my upbringing, my childhood dreams, my intentions, my way.

Who I am is not what people say about me.

Who I am is not my reputation. I am not peoples' perception of me. I am who God created me to be.

I am a dreamer. A musician. A laugher. A thinker. A soul-searcher. An optimist. A writer. A performer. A poet. A model. An artist. A son. A companion. A friend. A lover.

Who I am does not care what you think. For you have no right to judge me. Who I am will not change for you. I will not put a price tag on happiness.

Who I am does not have a label.

I make mistakes. I try my hardest. I stretch myself to the limits. I broaden my horizons. I am through with the ways of this world.

I've tasted and I've seen....

And I have finally come home.

The simplest terms and the most convenient definitions do not adequately describe me, why do people insist on classifying me as such.

Trust me, I've never been so certain as to my identity. Worry more about you.

Who are you?

More importantly --- who do you want to be?

Once the butterflies fly away

I used to think that finding someone you clicked with, someone who made your stomach feel sick, your hands to start to shake and your whole body feel off balance... was always going to mean it was something special.

But these are things that just happen --- they're not a result of something he's doing for you. He isn't making these things happen, they just are.

What I've come to realize is... once the butterflies fly away... and the sickness subsides, what matters is how he makes you feel on purpose --- the feelings he can cause in you that are every bit of his control...

His calling to say "hi", quoting a movie line to make you laugh or learning to accept that you like the one team in basketball he can't stand.

These are the feelings that do not just fade away in time, because he won't let them...

If it's really something, he'll be able to make you feel those things...

no matter the circumstance.

Plunge in...

When men betray you --- and they will betray you --- use this as an opportunity to forgive, as a heighted experience from which you can make music, write poetry, paint paintings.

Believe me, you will be privy to a world that's more vivid than your crayons... more colorful than those snapshots your father is so fond of... a place where your creativity is queen.

So plunge in...

Say yes...

Fall recklessly in love.

Feel more deeply than your friends do. Hit the heights, descend into the depths. Kiss the lads smack on the lips and move on --- like it did.

I survived love...

And you will too.

Why do I love him?

Why do I love him?

Tough question. I don't even know how or where to begin. I'm not sure if I could possibly find the right words to express what or how much I feel for him, let alone explain why I love him. I don't believe the English language has all the words I would need.

Why do I love him?

I guess I just do. I love him just because. I love him just because that's the most natural and possible thing to do.

I love him.

I love him because he's the most incredible, wonderful, amazing and fantastic guy I have ever known in my entire life. I love him because he's sweet, charming, smart, witty, and has a great sense of humor. I love him because he's so cool he's hot.

I love him because he makes me smile. I love him because he makes me laugh. I love him because he makes me happy. I love him because he's the one and only guy who has ever made it through my wall and seen right through my mask. I love him because he accepts the real me, imperfections and all, and still appreciates me for who I am.

I love him for being my friend. I love him because I could be whatever I want to be in front of him. I love him because we could talk about anything and everything under the sun.

I love him because I feel safe when I am with him. I love him because we are comfortable with each other. I love him for giving me a helping hand when I had to pick myself up, but couldn't. I love him for offering his shoulder for me to lean on to when I had to be strong, but wasn't.

I love him for telling me not to drink too much alcohol, then pretending to be mad at me when I did drink too much. I love him for telling me not to stay up too late at night because it wasn't good for my health. I love him for texting and sending me sweet and mushy messages. I love him for those times when he would call or text me just when I was thinking of calling or texting him, when I was feeling down, or when I was missing him, like he has gone psychic all of a sudden.

I love him for the kilig moments we had. I love him for always making me feel better, about myself and life in general. I love him for making me feel special. I love him for making me feel loved. But most of all, I love him for making me feel. I love him for making me realize that I am capable of feeling this way and this much for someone. I love him for making me feel alive. So, why do I love him?

I love him because he's all of these and more. So much more. I love him because he's everything. He's everything... but mine.

Mothers: tomorrow's sunrises of hope and promise

She secretly hopes a tank of oxygen is one of her gifts.

Through the years she has hollered, said and prayed, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, grant me patience!" 1,245,187 times.

Her hands have hung diapers on pulley clotheslines, sterilized bottles, carried babies from the third-floor apartment, ironed sunsuits and proudly pushed baby buggies.

She has peeled more potatoes than six marines on K.P. duty.

Her hair has been set in steel curlers, permed, rinsed with Nestle's coloring capsules, and styled in pageboys, the poodle look and the beehive hairdo; been permed again and turned silver.

The "parlor" was where she entertained company, the "pantry" held the groceries, the "icebox" held a pint of ice cream, and the "wringer washing machine" was hers to use on Tuesday.

She has earned her nursing degree through measles, chicken pox, mumps, pneumonia, polio, TB, fevers, stitches, flu, fractured arms and broken hearts.

At one time or another her closet held housedresses, feathered hats, white gloves, skirts with short hemlines and with long hemlines, pants suits, billowy dresses of chiffon, sheath dresses, a Sunday coat and the Christmas toys she ordered from the Sears catalog.

Her heart has known the ecstasy of a man's love, the joy of children, the heartbreak of their mistakes, the warmth of life's friendships, the celebration of weddings, the magnificent blessings of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Who can count the floors she scrubbed, the dinners she cooked, the birthday gifts she wrapped, the spelling words she listened to, the bedtime stories she read, the excuses she heard, the prayers she whispered to God each day?

Her arms have rocked generations of babies. Her hands have prepared countless "favorite" dishes. Her knees have knelt in prayer time and time again for those she loved. Her mouth has kissed owwies that hurt. Her back has bent to bathe dirty cowboys, pick up teens' clothes, gather flowers from her garden and grow old.

She has journeyed through life with its tears and laughter, watching yesterday's sunsets become tomorrow's sunrises of hope and promise. Because of her and the man who took her hand, family life and love continue through the generations.

When a mother blows out 75 candles, blessed are they who surround her with their love.

My Birthday Resolutions

The clock ticks slowly but steadily. As steadily as it ticks the minutes and the hours, the years go by. I won’t say ‘flies by’, though it is so customary to say, "But how the years have flown!" The years do not fly; they go by rhythmically and evenly. Nothing can be timed more accurately than the passing of each day.

And with the years come birthdays quite an annual feature, but so much funfairs and expectations roll up with each birthday. Hopes and misgivings, flights of fancy and resolutions; each year new ones are made, each year the ‘now’ resolutions are broken afresh, for why else are resolutions made if not to be broken? And made afresh and then broken again?

After the New Year a lot of people ask me what resolutions I have made. When I answer in the negative, they stare at me as if I were some curio, but I do not make resolutions; only I make them on the eve of my birthday, as the night slips into the morning silently and without warning like a thief at the dead of night. As I lie awake waiting for the clock to chime the midnight hour, I look back at the vista of years and relive again the ancient past.

An odd feeling of nostalgia grips me as I think of the birthdays of yesteryears. Years when birthdays meant pretty clothes and presents and of course birthday greeting cards. Those were the party years and meant fun and frolic with all the exuberance of youth when optimism runs high and pessimism is at it’s lowest ebb --- when one is young and the world is at his foot and the sky is never too high.

But with the dawning of each year, new fears and apprehensions begin dawning too. Exuberance and hope give way to disillusionment and despair. What was once one more hurdle now becomes one more step to hurtle down. What was once a fruitful past now somehow seems an arid waste and the future? a bleak desert maybe with an oasis or two to punctuate the monotony. The pessimist sees more pitfalls and the optimist more mountains.

Even the successful man sees in the past the mistakes that he made and paid for – and laments in vain: "Oh that we could have two lives --- one to make mistakes and the other to learn from them".

But as Cicero in his legacy of the past had said, "While there is life, there is hope" and hope is such a stimulating balm. Life is there still stretching out in front of you to make or to mar --- the chance is yours and yours alone. The past is past and nothing can be done to change it the way you want.

The days of yesteryears remain etched in one’s memory but with the passage of time many events and incidents tend to blur away and only important and significant one’s remain for one to reminisce and revive nostalgic memories.

The future is cloaked in mystery, in doubt, in apprehension but also in hope, in joy and expectations. Resolutions come clamoring to the fore, old one’s rush to be included, wild impulsive decisions are made and still the clock ticks steadily on.

At five minutes to midnight, I will hold on to the old year for all I am worth. But the chimes start to ring out and no hand on earth can stop them.

In these five minutes, I will be one year older and one more year of my life has lapsed.

Indeed it is truly said, "Time and tide wait for no man".

Another year, another heck of a ride...

For the past year, I am thankful...

For my boyfriend who says it's pizza and DVD tonight, because he is home with me, not with someone else.

For my boyfriend who is on the sofa being a couch potato, because he is home with me and not out at the bars.

For myself who is complaining about doing dishes, because that means I am at home, not on the streets.

For the taxes that I pay, because it means that I am employed.

For the mess to clean up after a party, because it means that I have been surrounded by friends.

For the clothes that fit a little too snug, because it means I have enough to eat.

For my shadow that watches me work, because it means I am out in the sunshine.

For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing, because it means I have a home.

For all the complaining I hear about the government, because it means that we have freedom of speech.

For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot, because it means I am capable of walking and that I have been blessed with transportation.

For my huge heating bill, because it means I am warm.

For the lady behind me in church that sings off key, because it means that I can hear.

For the pile of laundry and ironing, because it means I have clothes to wear.

For weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day, because it means I have been capable of working hard.

For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours, because it means that I am alive.

And finally...

For too much e-mail, text messages, phone calls, friend requests in Friendster and multiply, testimonials, comments on my blogs, pictures, videos and posts, and invites on coffee, movies, dates and SEBs because it means I am being appreciated by people...

May this year be as wacky if not better than last year...

I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Birthday Thoughts

Four days from now, I will be celebrating my birthday. Once again, I am taking a moment to look at where I have come from and where I expect to go in the future. This has been a year of growth and, from the looks of things; this will continue to be a time in which great things are expected to happen.

Today was a little more laid back than normal, as I took some time for some badly needed rest. I have been stressed out the whole week supervising my new team. I didn't have a POC yet so I handled everything by myself. But no worries, I am taking this weekend to unwind. The downtime gave me an opportunity to catch up on my little-celebrity-like-life and just have some 'me' time for once. It felt great, let me tell ya. But I am going to be thrust back into reality on Monday, 6:30pm, when I return back to work.

Saying goodbye to this year, the most valuable things I will take with me are the memories I had with you... yes, you... all of you... and I want to thank every person for playing a part in them:

To my friends: you have gone beyond the limits of what one has to do for another. My life will be forever richer and more beautiful because you were a part of it. I love you with all my heart.

To every girl/boy who gossiped about me in corners of parties; to those who were my slap in the face; to the close-minded or misunderstanding; to those who broke my heart: you all challenged me to become the person I wanted to be. I am stronger because of the trials you put me through and no matter what you have done to me, you have unknowingly done so much for me.

To every person who inspired me by the way they lived their life; to those who were my shoulder to cry on; to those I found myself with in my moments of pure joy; to those who have understood me; to the people I share inside jokes with; to anyone who has held my hand, or for that matter, held my head back after a night of partying; to those who I laughed with until I cried; to my ex-boyfriends; to everyone I stayed up talking to until the early morning hours: thank you for the wisdom, happiness, and experience you’ve brought into my life. I will cherish these times forever. I wish you all the best.

Thank you guys for taking care of my heart without knowing anything about cardiology. And from the bottom of my slightly-healed heart, I love you all.

Thank you.

Dear Dogs and Cats...

Dear Dogs and Cats,

The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed as a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king-sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. I have been using the bathroom for years --- canine or feline attendance is not mandatory.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough!

To pacify you my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

Rules for Non-Pet Owners Who Visit and Like to Complain About Our Pets:

1. They live here. You don't.

2. If you don't want hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (That's why they call it "fur"niture .)

3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.

4. To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours, and does not speak clearly.

Remember: Dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

* eat less

* don't ask for money all the time

* are easier to train

* usually come when called

* never drive your car

* don't hang out with drug-using friends

* don't smoke or drink

* don't worry about having to buy the latest fashions

* don't wear your clothes

* don't need a gazillion dollars for college

* and if they get pregnant, you can sell their children

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs,
CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios,
Delivered at Stanford on June 12, 2005

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world.

I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation.

Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit.

So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife.

Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an
unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course."

My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life.

So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all-romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms; I returned coke bottles for the 5cents deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it.

And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this.

I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life.

But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky ? I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation - the Macintosh - a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired.

How can you get fired from a company you started?

Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out.

What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley.

But something slowly began to dawn on me ? I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a
brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love.

And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle.

As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right."

It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?"

And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything? All external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.

Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months.

My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day.

Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor.

I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope, the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery.

I had the surgery and I'm fine now. This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.

Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away.

Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions
drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous.

Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish."

It was their farewell message as they signed off.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

And I have always wished that for myself.

And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

Know me more

Last thing you burned while cooking?

Popcorn, I always leave them in too long…

Describe yourself in 3 words:

Casual, friendly, Straight-forward

How long does it take you to get ready for your day?

60 minutes

Are you a health freak?

Not by any means…

How many people have you thought were the one?

4

What turns you off about other people?

Being outlandishly stupid to get attention

What celebrity would you have coffee with?

Paris Hilton

What celebrity(s) would you have sex with?

Natalie Portman and Channing Tatum

What is the main ring tone on your cell?

Old Phone

What were you doing at midnight last night?

Watching PrisonBreak and eating cheetos

Last TV show you watched?

KC, from Paris to Pinas... hehehe

Who is your best friend?

Debbie Ann

Who in your family do you get along with?

My little brother

Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?

Matthew

How many times have you been in love?

2

How old will you be in 10 years?

10 years older than I am today.

What did the last text message you received on your cell say?

Good night from a friend.

What is a saying you say a lot?

Well, we’re not going to live forever ya know.

Favorite chocolates?

White Toblerone

Worse date ever?

Don’t remember, I blocked it from memory.

What would you do if you could be the opposite sex for a day?

I would go up to all my friends and scare the hell out of them.

In your cd player right now?

I don’t even own a CD player anymore. That is SO 1998.

Something you believe?

That God has control of my life.

What is something you fear?

Losing my job and having to start over again.

Best time to catch you in a good mood?

When I’m not in a bad mood.

Most prized possession?

My pride. hahaha... My house I guess.

Would you ever sell them?

Hell no.

What is one of your pet peeves?

People that talk to much about off-topic subjects during a conversation.

Unhealthy addictions?

Smoking, Internet.

Unhealthy fascinations?

Um…I guess none…

Favorite sexual position?

Any, I’m a guy… I’m happy just getting some…

What physical part would you change about yourself?

Bigger….. hands. LOL

Soft sensual sex or porn star sex?

Again… see 2 questions up…

Would you go on a date with someone you met online?

It depends on the Guy, the location and the situation.

Work attire?

Jeans and Tee

What is your best physical feature?

Don’t think I’ve got a good physical feature. Fine... my smile...

Do you think anyone has actually read this far?

Nope…

PENIS FACTS

Actual amount of semen per ejaculation: 1-2 teaspoons
Wait just a damn minute! You mean he breathes that damn hard for 2 teaspoons?? Oh and I gotta be down there THAT long just for that?! damn!

Average number of times a man will ejaculate in his lifetime: 7,200
He must be working on that 2 teaspoon thingy

Average # of times he will ejaculate from masturbation: 2,000
...a week maybe, LOL

Average total amount of lifetime ejaculate: 14 gallons

Average speed of ejaculation: 28 miles per hour
Ok.... like I'd kill to see the speedometer they used for this test. Hahaha. That’s funny and fast.

Average # of calories in a teaspoon of semen: 7
Quick! Someone call Oprah!! Here’s a fat free diet I bet she hasn't tried!

Average length of penis when not erect: 3.5 inches
Well well well...Mr... Happy ain't looking so damn happy right now is he??

Average length when erect: 5.1
Damn!!that's not very encouraging! Why there has to be a mistake here ... cause all the guys on G4M say theirs is 10 inches! Someboooooodys lying!!!!!

Smallest natural penis recorded: 5/8 of an inch
I think I've dated him... LAUGHS LOUDLY:

Largest natural penis recorded: 11 inches
Wonder where I can write to this guy?? Like just what exactly is a "natural" penis??

Percentage of men who say they masturbate: 60%
Well.... we know they didn't take this poll on Multiply... now did they? LOL.

Percentage of men who say they masturbate at least once a day: 54%
This is the percentage of men NOT on G4M… LOL

Percentage of men who say they feel guilty masturbating that often: 41%
Guilt??? WTF is that? Honey your dewin it wrong.

Amount of time needed for a man to regain erection: from 2 minutes to 2 weeks
2 weeks? Guess he needs VIAGRA!! Ackkkkk 2 weeks??? 2 weeks?? You don't need Viagra you need a transplant!

Average # of erections per day for a man: 11
....during one hour of Queer As Folk… LOL

Average # of erections during the night: 9
....I wanna know who stayed awake and counted! Hahahaha…

Distance sperm travels to fertilize an egg: 3-4 inches
Does this including the dude with the 5/8 inch pee pee too? Hehehe

The human equivalent: 26 miles
26 miles and they can still make a baby, damn I am impressed

Odors that increase blood flow to the penis: lavender, licorice, chocolate, doughnuts, pumpkin pie
And to think I thought it was that cute little Victoria Secrets number

Yes, the penis does shrink in the shower...
...unless its showering with a Friend!! Like who the hell is chasing all these penis's around with a ruler?

*wink*

The battle of head versus heart

The battle of head versus heart is excruciating.

Which is the right one to follow?

My head which is trying to protect my heart? Or my heart, my heart that is falling hopelessly... leading me into a dead end... walking me head first into a brick wall?

I wish I could say my vision is blurry --- that I'm blinded, but I can see so clearly it scares me. I see the part of me that just can't walk the other way, that can't tear my eyes off of him or keep myself from trembling when he looks directly at me --- especially when he makes me feel like I'm the only person in a room.

Sometimes we can fall in love with someone for all the wrong reasons... and still love them even after all the hurt because well... sometimes and most times… we can’t pick who we love.

And even though we know we shouldn’t love them we do… and always will… because there are just a small number of people in this world who will "get" us for reasons we can’t explain…

Even when they shouldn’t and even when time has elapsed since we've last talked…

I am running out of teeth...

I felt something catch in my throat, a sudden surge of sadness that caught me unaware. It almost managed to take my breath away. That was the thing… you never got used to it… you never got used to the idea of someone being gone.

Just when you think it’s okay, and you think you've accepted it, someone points it out to you, and it hits you all over again…

And it's just as shocking as the first time.

And because he has been a major part of your life, of course you'll miss him.

It's perfectly normal.

It's like getting a tooth pulled out… after the dentist pulls it out, you're relieved.

But how many times does your tongue run itself over the spot where the tooth once was? Probably a hundred times a day.

Just because it was hurting you does not mean you don't notice it. It leaves a gap, and sometimes you see yourself missing it terribly. It's going to take awhile, but it takes time.

Should you have kept the tooth?

No, because it was causing you pain. Pulling the tooth was the right decision, but it's going to hurt.

This superman needs saving too

Sadness envelopes me. I am alone.

I have always fashioned myself as a knight in shining armor. I've always thought that I make a difference in people's lives. I have friends who come up to me to say thanks... I receive numerous personal messages here in multiply telling me how much I inspire them to be better individuals... to look forward to the future with hope in their hearts and smile on their faces... that I had made a change or affected it somehow.

But I always end up feeling alone.

I always feel miserable... and alone.

I am a dreamer. However, as one of my most favorite writers would say --- "Few are the dreams that can exist in the harsh light of day."

Dreams die...

Mine have withered away.

Sometimes, I talk to my God and say, "I am your servant and your tool, O' Lord. Do with me as You please."

And when I make a difference in someone's life, I always end up smiling. I smile because in some way, I see a faint glimmer of what I want to happen in my life. I want to see change. I need to have someone take time out and make me feel that I am important. That I matter. That out of all the insignificant grains of sand, I outshine most, if only even for a second.

Sometimes, this superman needs saving too.

Please, not again...

I hate when I get so frustrated . Everything just goes wrong at once, and I try so hard to fight it.
But the tears, they always come.

I'm so scared of falling, cause once I do, it's fight after fight to get back up.

It could take days, months, years even.

I don't know if I have that kind of strength anymore.

Please, don't let me fall...

How am I?

Every time someone asks me that question, I say, "I'm fine, thank you," but to be honest, I'm not.

Do people really want to know how you feel when they ask how are you? Or are they just trying to be polite?

The next time the woman across the road from my apartment says to me, 'how are you?' I'm going to say to her:

"Well, actually, I'm not very well at all, thank you. I'm feeling a bit depressed and lonely. Pissed off at the world. Envious of you and your perfect little family but not particularly envious of your husband for having to live with you."

And then I'll tell her about how I started a new job and met lots of new people and how I'm trying hard to pick myself up but that I'm now at a loss about what else to do.

Then I'll tell her how it pisses me off when everyone says time is a healer when at the same time they also say absence makes the heart grow fonder, which really confuses me because that means that the longer he's gone the more I want him.

I'll tell her that nothing is healing at all and that every morning I wake up in my empty bed it feels like salt is being rubbed into those unhealing wounds.

And then I'll tell her about how much I miss my partner and about how worthless my life seems without him. How uninterested I am in getting on with things without him, and I'll explain how I feel like I'm just waiting for my world to end so that I can join him.

She'll probably just say, "Oh that's good," like she always does, kiss her husband good-bye, hop into her car, and drop her kids at school, go to work, make the dinner and eat the dinner, and go to bed with her husband and she'll have it all done while I'm still trying to decide what color shirt to wear to work.

What do you think?

Sigh... life... it's messy... (at least mine is)

A great theme fo a great life

It's not death

I worry about

It's life that will bury us all

It's the frustration of finishing the day

In the exact same place you started it

If you are lucky

It's not sorrow

It's getting hard to handle

It's being optimistic that grinds us to dust

With nothing to hope for you take it as it comes

And it only comes close to what you wish it will

If you are lucky

It's not the sound of noise that you really hate

It's the silence that comes and covers your soul

You can learn to live with noise; it's a sound of life

It's the sound of silence that makes you feel dead

If you are lucky

It's being surrounded by noise

Being sad and preferably dead

That I really wish for

If I'm lucky.

A great writer once said, that a great book requires a great theme.

So does a great life.

An endless stream of books are meaningless and will not last as great literature, because they do not have a great theme.

So it is with people.

All too much in human history is wasted and meaningless because there is no great theme, no great purpose in life. Men and women have a deep hunger in life for meaning and purpose, but so often they are afraid to let go of a self-centered ego.

To have a great theme in life involves taking a risk of moving beyond the narrow limitations of myself and discovering our true self where Jesus is at the center: nurturing, healing and empowering us to be men and women for others.

Here is our great theme, our meaning and purpose…

On a lighter note

Break-ups are always painful if you ever care about each other. Both people are often wounded, and hurt each other with emotional reactions. But break-ups can reveal more about our heart and fears if we let the Spirit instruct us through the painful times. In my experience, when I'm hurting most is when the Spirit draws near to give comfort and insight.

We never know how things will work out. All we can really do is act the best we can in our particular circumstances. Remember that what lies in store for us isn't always that which we immediately hope for.

We can't dictate terms and expectations from God. His blessings probably exceed the little concerns we're struggling for. You may not be able to change the situation, but you can always try to grow through the challenges you're experiencing. It has more to do with HOW you handle the situation than how it turns out.

The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble that can gather strength from distress and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.

On love and commitments

1)Pressure

When you make a decision to be with someone because of the pressure you feel (from yourself or others) rather than because the person seems right for you, you are giving your power away and ensuring an unhappy end to your love story.

2)Loneliness and Desperation

When you are feeling lonely or desperate, you are much more likely to make poor love choices and end up in unfullfilling relationships.

Be much pickier, Don't lower your standards just because you're feeling times are tough. You're not a store trying to get rid of old merchandise that puts it on sale -- You are a valuable, lovable human being who deserves to have the kind of relationship you want, not just the kind you think you can get.

3)Sexual Hunger

Do you have a s Sexual Hunger Limit (SHL), a period of time beyond which you feel "something is wrong" because you haven't been sexually active? It's good to know your SHL. YOu might want to put it on your calendar as the time approaches, so you can be careful to avoid getting involved with someone for the wrong reason!

4)Distraction from your own life

Some people have relationships because they are bored with the lack of passion and purpose in their lives, and rather than looking within to find out why they feel that way, they get involved in a love affair and make that their purpose. These relationships never work because you aren't in love with the person -- you're in love with the distraction.

5)To avoid growing up

Finding someone to take care of you so you don't have to grow up.

6)Guilt

You remain in romantic situations not because you want to stay, but because you are afraid of what might happen if you left.

When you decide to be with someone out of guilt and not love, you are ripping them and yourself off.

7)To fill up your emotional or spiritual emptiness

If you have deep places of emptiness within you, no partner, regardless of how much they love you, will be able to fill that emptiness.

It is fullness that makes a relationship work, not emptiness.

What’s so Lethal about Dating?

Do you ever wonder when you meet someone if you are meeting the real person or a "representative"? Every now and again, I am reminded of how lethal the dating game can be. It is not for the faint of heart.

And so, my story goes...

OK, so my friend kept insisting I meet this guy. "Just have a drink," she said. She began to beg, so I finally decided to oblige her. I mean she made this guy sound better than sliced bread. The fact that I hadn’t been out on a "real" date in months was also a factor. My post-break-up life was taking some getting used to and I was attempting to get some normalcy back in my life.

We were slated to meet at a nightclub, which I wasn’t too crazy about at first, but I figured dancing would break the ice pretty quickly. Earlier when he and I spoke, he seemed to be intelligent and well spoken. He must have called my cell a dozen times to confirm and reconfirm. Was he overly attentive or a potential stalker? The jury was still out on this one.

I made it to my destination, and he and I hit it off instantly. He had a great sense of humor and was definitely pleasing to the eyes.

He ordered me a glass of margarita and we chatted about everything from work to relationships. After dancing the night away, things ended as sweet as they began and he was the perfect gentleman.

Over the next several days I was wined, dined and swept off my feet. He even took me to his work to meet his officemates. I truly believed this guy was the real thing. Our conversations were great and our time together was enjoyable. I had to pinch myself to make sure this was real.

He talked about living in together. He called me his "soul mate." So I wasn’t at all surprised when he asked me to be his boyfriend. We were compatible on so many different levels, I eagerly accepted. We started to plan our lives together.

There were just two things standing in the way --- Benjo and Kevin, the other two guys he had been seeing while dating me.

As it turns out, this man managed to lie about every aspect of his life. Benjo and Kevin were just two, of many, in his flock. He turned out to be nothing he claimed to be. The signs were there all along, but I made sense out of them at the time. I bet you can relate.

Hindsight is 20/20 and the lessons from this experience were invaluable. So to all of you who love being "in love," meditate on this. Slow down, take your time and check things out objectively. Separate fantasy from reality and trust your instinct.

Always remember, if you play the game in any form, you become the game.

Note to self: Look beneath the surface. The truth lives there.

Unlike "I love you", "I want you" and "I need you..."

The three words that mean the most aren’t “I love you,” with its history of being an accomplice to lies, with its bad reputation as a myth. What is “I love you” but the easy way out, the secret weapon revealed at the ends of long-drawn battles between desperation and despair? “I love you” is what you say when you run out of valid arguments but decide to keep fighting anyway. “I love you” is what you use when you want to appear to be someone you’re not. These are powerful words, powerful in the way that politicians and generals are nowadays, worth their weight in gold. “I love you” has been the pillar of empires and friendships, and their causes for downfall. “I love you” is where you build the tower of your trust, only to see it crumble down when these words are said to someone else. “I love you” is what you use when you want to be unfair, when you want to deliberately hurt. “I love you” throws the whole equation in chaos, unbalances the seesaw. It implies the loss of reason and pride, but is used to manipulate, to blackmail, leaving behind disillusionment and disappointment.

The three words that mean the most aren’t “I want you” with its raw, blatant inconsideration, its implications of a primal need that is best released orgasmically. “I want you” is what spoiled brats say, it’s what selfish bitches say, it’s what horny boys say. “I want you” is harsh, said through clenched teeth, said with wild eyes. “I want you” is a physical sentence, the amalgamation of skin against a number of factors: skin on skin, fingernail on skin, teeth on skin. It is violent and rapid, a whirlwind of emotion, an explosion of saliva and other bodily fluids. These are words that have no origin, they emerge from the basest of instincts, they are triggered by smell, by touch, by the look of rawness in another person’s eyes. These are words that signal the coming of a storm, and like most storms, they wreak havoc and then depart, leaving behind ruin and wounds.

The three words that mean the most aren’t “I need you”, with its childish, clingy implications, its sad, pathetic grievances. “I need you” leaves you open, blinding you to yourself, eradicating all traces of self-respect. “I need you” is the dying breath of a failed relationship. It is the battle cry of an overpowered suitor. These words signal the clinging to memories that are either long gone, or never were. These words bypass true necessity to make fools out of the sayers. These are not words to be used by all; it takes the strongest persons to relay this message correctly. Otherwise all is naught, you only reveal yourself as an empty shell craving for something, anything, to fill it. But then, the strongest persons never have the need to say these words. It’s the irony of life. These words are like taking a knife to your throat and piercing your skin gently, leaving behind a trail of blood too thin for anyone to see, but painful enough for you to feel.

The three words that mean the most, I think, the ones that really hit the mark, and often in the most unexpected of ways, are “I miss you”. This is the sentence that sends the message right home. Because what other message is there? Nothing else, except exactly just that, “I miss you”, and everything else is pulled along into it, like a chain reaction.

Unlike “I love you” and the lies that go along with it, “I miss you” is honest and sincere, you only say it when you mean it, and you don’t have to mean it in a big way to really mean it.

Unlike “I want you” and its expectations, “I miss you” offers all it has, and waits for nothing in return.

Unlike “I need you” and its desperate whines, “I miss you” stands on its own, a whole entity in just three words, devoid of arms that cling to you for life.

“I miss you” means everything and nothing, it is unflinching and honest. It is upbeat and simple, with wisps of longing and clouds of hope. You miss people you used to love, people you used to want, people you used to need. But most of the time the missing is all that’s left, and that’s OK, there’s nothing else you’d change.

The missing implies a past that remains in its rightful place. Or it implies the reality and possibilities of the present. It is hope and love and lust and peace all at the same time. Some people say that when they met that person, it was akin to “coming home”.

And missing is this manifestation of home-sickness, the way people return to their homelands to die, the way all the comfort the world has to offer is nothing compared to the feeling of being in someone’s arms.

And that’s why I miss you, because you’re not here, and because every time I think about you, that’s all that I think.

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, and the world turns for both of us, and I can’t wait until you come home.

Don't think about that guy

"Don't think about that guy!"

You shouted to me over your shoulder as you ran toward the bus stop, your bright red sweater flashing as you disappeared into the crowd.

I must have shouted something back at you although I can't remember what it was. Knowing me, it was probably a very weary but enthusiastic "OK!" The enthusiasm was for you - my best effort to appease optimists - but the weariness was for me and the inevitable catch-22 of bullshit infatuations: to get over someone, you find someone else. Don't think about that guy by thinking about another guy.

Not that I was looking for you. I always felt this strange ticking sensation deep within me whenever I'd run into you on campus. Like a tiny grandfather clock was sitting inside my chest, and whenever I'd see you, it would strike midnight. I still walk those same pathways where I used to glimpse you, and sometimes I expect to just see you striding toward me, headphones around your neck, a book in your face. Even though I know it's impossible, I think that part of me secretly hopes that I will see you walking, completely unaware that you're about to bump into me like you did that afternoon you told me not to think about "that guy." I guess it's for the better...because we all know what happens when twelve am rolls around. The little bird jumps out and yells "Cuckoo!"

I have been forced to live a stationary life since I was born, and the frustration of it all has finally polluted me. I think I've made up for the sedentary lifestyle that has throttled me throughout these years by finding romance in individuals who won't stay still. Maybe it's from the hope they can make me free like them, and I can fly away from this self-defeating cage of unattainable dreams. I'm always ready to leave, always ready to go somewhere, but the clock never strikes midnight when I'm alone.

"Don't think about that guy!" you shouted to me.

I never would have thought that you would later be "that guy." The guy that I would have to let go of, the guy I couldn't hold on to forever.

You're always ready to leave, always ready to go somewhere.

And sometimes, when I think about all of the memories we've made together, I still feel a pressing urgency to go chase you. But I know I never will. I found you without looking for you, and if I ever do find you again I don't want to hear the ticking of any clock.

Most of our love was clocks.

“Let’s still be friends, okay?”

“Let’s still be friends, okay?” this is the most common aftermath line when two lovers broke up. A promise of lasting friendship is simply a cover up for an uncomfortable situation, nothing more.

Maybe the line begins with very good intentions, but chances are, you end up with rotten results.

It’s so difficult to still keep in touch, and even if you do, you’d always be careful on the things you’re going to say.

If you say you’re doing great and feeling happy with the ways things are going, you may sound defensive, as if you are not affected.

If you say words of reminders or concern, you might sound as if you’re still in love with him.

If you tell him about your friends and your crushes you might sound like you want him to make jealous even if you don’t intend to, just to keep in touch…. right?

Sometimes we find ourselves smiling, reminiscing, and then later we’d end up crying. Why? A question that is quite hard to find an answer…

How can we convince ourselves to forget all about that guy when he’d done many nice things for us? We don’t have an idea what will happen next…but still, things kept on bothering our minds…

Do I still love him? Yes, in fact very much…but I doubt we’ll get back together again… Maybe all they can do for now is wait --- to wait for the right one…

Don’t even care how long.

Cause true love? That is worth waiting for…

Emancipation of the Heart

When you look for it, why can you not find it? When you stop looking, why does it find you? When you search for it, why do you do it in all the wrong places? When you give up, why do you run into it in the most unlikely of places?

When you let go, is it because you love too much or because you don't love enough? What brings more pain--loving or leaving? Is the realization that you no longer pine for anyone a liberating or lonely feeling?

When romantic relationships spark no interest, is it because you love yourself too much or because you love others too little? When you leave, should you feel dispirited? Or should you feel invigorated? When you are left behind, should you feel lost? Or should you feel emancipated?

When you stop loving, is it the end or the beginning?

When you cling to it, you lose it. When you avoid it, it tracks you down.

Defining it will confound you.

Coveting it will destroy you.

But if you can just let it be, it can be a gift that can be appreciated for what it is and all that it can bring you.

When you love no matter what, are you brave or are you mad? When you fall in love, are you blessed or are you cursed? When you refuse to fall out of love, are you determined or deranged? Does love inspire? Or does it drain?

When you are resolute, are you romantic or are you rabid?

Why do people say they love when they don't? And why do they say they don't when they do? Why is a declaration of love the hardest of statements to make when it is real? And the easiest to make when it is false?

Why can a child declare with certainty and without fear, that she is loved?

No matter how many times she has been berated? Because against conflicting words and actions, repeated denials and numerous contradictions, love shows itself when it is there. And even when no words are spoken, much is said.

Why do people love even when they are not loved back? Why do people love a little, love a lot, love deeply, love foolishly, love forever, love again? Why do people love at all? Does love empower? Or does it enfeeble?

Why do we see something in someone that others don't? Why do our hearts beat faster for one person against the rest? Why can we forgive someone for sins we cannot forgive others? Why do we love someone and not someone else?

As Pascal put it, "The heart has its reasons which reason cannot know."