Road Trip to Kiama

Testament

#178: Sublime Point



Tell me what this marker marks.
Listen to what it proclaims.
In stillness it stands as a testament
A fortunate witness
To love sublime,
Love strong,
Love true.

Forgetful Jones

#177: Remembers Her Blog's Birthday

I knew something was up today. I just wasn't sure. And I was too lazy to open my diary the night before. Reading about betas of assets, risk-free rates and the risk premiums on the market portfolio is not the type of thing that charges you with energy, you know. (It's interesting. For some twisted reason, I'm liking Finance.) I just knew that I wanted to get to school by 8am to read up on arbitrages and futures contracts and technical things I really didn't care about before my MBA.

And as with all grand plans, it amounted to nothing. I remember saying to myself, "Why kill yourself over it? You can always sleep in and read another time." But the Lord just woke me up at exactly 6am and I found myself sitting on the bed wondering what it was about today that was different.

It's my blog's birthday. That I know. Happy Birthday, Blog. Back to sleep.

7am. OH SHOOT!!! That's it!!! I RSVP'd to that Salt & Shein thing! It's a limited-slot session on an aspect of the Marketing Communications field here in Sydney!!! Ack!!! There was no way I was going to make it to school in time!

Got to school at 8:05. Panting. I can be forgiven for being 5 mins late, right? I frantically look around for some guy looking like he's Mr. Salt. Nope. No one. Not even a clue that there was a session somewhere going on. I rushed to open my laptop, check my emails... and lo and behold, at 8:10, I find out that the session is being conducted in the city. AAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK!!! Wrong venue! Someone hang me. Now.

But what can I do? Catch the bus, get there at 8:45am for a thing that ends at 9? Call attention to my stupidity? It's a mess. I am a mess. I need to get my life in order.

"It happens to the best of us," one Executive MBA student tells me. I find out afterwards that he's here in the student lounge too because he forgot about his Statistics class and was too late to attempt to attend it.

I print out a couple of things to console myself. At least some other parts of my life are taking shape. I check my entries from a year ago and try to see if I've grown. I think I have. Grown senile, probably. But also in other ways. I have moved forward. And so this blog birthday is a happy one.

Happy Birthday Blog!

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P.S.
Happy Birthday Profiler! I think it was around this time last year that I forgot your birthday. See, THAT I remember. =)

Bawl

#176: Here's a Big One

Met up with some ex-officemates yesterday. I'm still their baby. Just like I was when I was early 20ish, fresh out of University, naive, impressionable. One is a Powerpuff girl. She's in her mid-30's, director of a Marketing group in a big telco in the Philippines. Flies to Sydney for a business trip. Offers to fly me to Gold Coast with her this weekend so she'll have company. Pretty. A high-maintenance girl who's unapologetic about it. "I maintain myself." That's her winning answer.

At some point, I think I looked at her and said to myself that, yeah, I'll maintain myself too. I'm at the age they were when I first met them. They're still worrying about me having enough warm clothes. "Gladys, are you warm enough? Do you want me to leave you my scarf and coat?" (They're pretty nice. Maybe I do. But I said no.) They're still paying for my meals. "It's on me, Gladys. You're a poor student. Order whatever you want." As I said, still their baby.

So what is wrong with that? Baby. I think I sometimes am still one. Big one. Especially when I think of having to walk to the bus stop in the cold or ironing my clothes or folding them up or doing the laundry or doing the dishes. But that's just in my head. No one can be a baby forever. I wouldn't want to be one forever. Have you seen a baby in her late 20s? That has to be freakingly ugly.

(Ah, the past still claws at you and grips your neck.) My past? Heck no. Or maybe. Did I start hating him when I stopped loving him or did I just become indifferent? I cared enough to wish him a normal life, didn't I? (Does it sting? I thought you're much stronger than this. Now aren't you a little baby?) Ah, but I am. Stronger than this, I mean. And I'm not a baby. I maintain myself, remember?

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Sidenote:
That didn't make much sense, I know. Forgive me, I had two hours of sleep. One horrible paper. One presentation. Another meeting. Plus one cocktail party to go to with this guy I can't look at but whom I mustered enough courage to be decent (no, even friendly) to today. And while he said we could share a cab, I think he would've redeemed himself if he said he'd take care of the fare. Oh. There I am again. Big baby. Yeesh. I'll take the bloody bus.

Let Her Cry

#175: Wildflower by Jodeci

She’s faced the hardest times you could imagine.
And many times her eyes fought back the tears.
And when her youthful world was about to fall in
Each time her slender shoulders,
bore the weight of all her fears.
And the sorrow no one hears,
Still rings in midnight silence
In her ears...

Let her cry, for she’s a lady
Let her dream, for she’s a child
Let the rain fall down upon her
She’s a free and gentle flower, growing wild

And if by chance that I should hold her,
Let me hold her for a time
And if allowed but one possession,
I will pick her from the garden to be mine.

Be careful how you touch her, for she’ll awaken
And sleep's the only freedom that she knows
And when you walk into her eyes, you won’t believe
The way she’s always paying,
For a debt she never owes
And the silent wind still blows,
That only she can hear,
And so she goes....

Glitch

#174: Again

Today marks another sad day in Sydney.
I am once more at my table, facing the computer.
And again, it is raining.
Deja vu. A glitch in the Matrix.

You've comforted me once more, Jae.
But my heart still hurts.
I want my Gladys back.
I need to go home.

Dear Mom

#173: Mother's Day Letter

Dear Mom,

Thank you.
Thank you for raising us up as dreamers - people who create visions. I can see far into the horizon because you encouraged us to discover new oceans and taught us how to lose sight of the shore. That was one of your favorite quotes. And I remember you using that to inspire us, and then to make us eat weird vegetables.

Thank you that as we were growing up, you peppered dinner discussions with talks of Kaizen and how that Japanese principle of continuous improvement in Production Operations can be used in our lives. I continue to reach higher because there will always be room to grow. Thank you for Zero Defects as well. I listen in class now and chuckle to myself because our grade school projects would always have a little sermon on "Doing It Right The First Time. All The Time." How much are you paying now to have me listen to this in my MBA class?

Thank you for opening the world to us. For letting us see that there is life outside of our country. You'd fly off to Korea or Japan or Germany or Finland to learn about the most advanced production systems in the globe and come back with the most amazing stories about how different things are in worlds that work. I am in love with travel because of you.

And also, thank you for teaching me to be tough. To have a core that few can hurt. For teaching me that the guy has to love the girl more and that the girl always has to keep her dignity intact. And that beauty has to be accompanied with brains and that mind has to rule over heart. You've raised me to be smart in life. Please teach me how to deal with love.

Because Mom, I love you. I cannot say it as easily or as frequently but in this tough, driven and determined dreamer's heart, I do.

Barefoot

#172: Walking

Shed the layers of fat and skin and clothes that keep you warm.
Bring down the walls that hide your heart.
A cold heart is only good for the dead, is it not?
Take off your shoes and walk
Barefoot
Feeling each pebble, each crack with your hardened soles.
Cautious, uncertain
But willing, and expectant.
Ready to believe.
Ready to walk through the waves
Or fly
Or fall
Into the arms of the One you trust
Who goes before
Who hems you in
Who builds a hedge around you
So you can finally rest.