Caught Up in the Lies about the Happily Ever Afters…

Don’t tell me, that you’d NEVER imagined yourselves as those god DAMN dumb-blonde (no offense!!!) damsels in distress, that waits, in those stupid all-too-high-to-be-reached ivory towers, waiting for rescue…

Caught up in the lies about the happily ever afters, that, is what those god DAMN, STUPID fairytales are trapping us by, they’re showing us, that wow, there are, those stupid knights in shiny armors, riding on their god DAMN stallions, from “yonder” (Wherever THAT may be!!!).

not my picture here…

Caught up in the lies about the happily ever afters, and we can’t, SNAP out of that, because we ALL want to have a smooth-sailing life, we ALL want those wonderful things those fairytales promise us: the one true love, kissed by the prince, waking up, and, he’ll, ride us all, into the sunset, but here’s the thing: there’s only O-N-E prince charming, and how is he going to get “divided” EVENLY, among ALL of those princesses (Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, Little Mermaid, etc., etc., etc.???)? They DON’T!!!

Caught up, in the lies of those happily ever afters, you’d be, better off, to just TAKE that DOSE of POISONOUS knowledge (hello, that, is what the apple is, remember, the Fruit of KNOWLEDGE???), and just take a BITE, then DIE from it, it’ll be, a much quicker, and less painful way to D-I-E…………

not my drawing on a chalkboard here… 

Taking My Younger Sister’s Hand, on Coming of Age

Becoming the older sister, look how you’d matured, child!!! Translated…

Since when we were younger, my younger sister and I were, complete opposites. One of us, outgoing, the other, shy; one is hurried, the other, takes her time to slowly get things done, and, this sort of polarity that we have, caused me to tell my mother that I’ll love my younger sister, but because we weren’t on the same page, we’d often, started fighting again, and, we’d gotten, disciplined, together, by our parents afterwards.

not my photo…

And one day, the whole family headed out to a nature activity, and I don’t know if it was because the adults’ reminding me to or not, I’d, taken my younger sister’s hand, and walked the entire way, and the very first time, I’d found that her small hand felt, so very soft and so tiny, feels so good in mine, and, I’d become, a sort of, addicted, just, held on to her hand. What’s weird was, that day, she’d, complied with me too, and, as we walked, and our hands were, separated, she’d, found her way back into my hands, or that I’d, silently, found back her hand to hold, and on that day, we were, extraordinarily harmonious with one another, there wasn’t even, a single spat, I’d even gotten commanded for being a wonderful older sister to her too.

But, because neither one of us felt comfortable, with this sort of show of intimacy, later on, we’d never held hands and walked, for as long as we had back, when we were, children again. What was I trying to accomplish back then, to prove, that I’m, a good older sister? That I have, the responsibilities of being an older child, or, did I simply, like the feeling of, holding hands with someone? I can no longer tell, but, one thing was for certain, afterwards, I’d no longer saw my younger sister as “someone I’d had to share my parents with”, but instead, she’d become, “my younger sister”.

not my photo still…

So, holding hands, resolved whatever was going on, fighting to get the parents’ attention, getting the best of goodies, and everything that was, going on from before, because holding hands is a way, to show someone that you cared for them, that you loved them even…

Photos of the Whole Family

Finding some common ground, a shared interest, that way, you could, relate to the in-laws better, translated…

I have, a personal photographer, every time we’d gone places together, we’d be so very in synch, and quickly, posed, and, a good angle, a great photo was put out. Any time when this coworker was around, she was able to, capture everybody’s moments down, the lovers interacting sweetly, the happy times shared by the family, the group photo, with everybody in the pictures, grinning, ear to ear, looking spirited. And, whenever we’d showed her our gratitude, she’d always, brushed it off, stated, “This, is my hobby, I feel very achieved, to be able to, help all of you, capture these moments.”

And, every time, she’d sighed about how the photos she’d taken had flaws, and if she’d gotten a good shot, she’d gotten, so overjoyed and excited for a very long time. With such a selfless coworker, we’re all, very honored by her presence in our lives.

not my photograph…

Before she married, she’d become, interested with photography, the very first time she’d spent the New Years with her husband’s family, it was, very cold and unwelcoming, and she’d wanted to, help lift up the spirits, and on the second year, she’d mentioned that she could do a family photo for them, and her husband demolished the idea, “Don’t get ideas into your head, our family is traditional, just follow the older ways.” But, she’d not, given up, she’d tried, persuading her honest, kind, and down-to-earth mother-in-law, and, as the mother-in-law heard, that she would get a chance, to dress up pretty for the photo op, she’d agreed to the idea; after the New Year’s Eve supper, she’d had the help from her own mother-in-law, as they’d gathered everybody up, for a family photo, and because it wasn’t, a ritual yet, everybody else, was low on compliance, and, it took her, a very long time, to finally, complete her mission, and, her husband started, nagging her on how she’s just, finding troubles for herself, making her a bit upset.

After the New Year’s, she’d found the best of the photos she’d taken, enlarged them, framed them, and gave her in-laws, her eldest and youngest brothers-in-law separate copies. And, as everybody saw that everybody was present in the photo, they’d, cherished the pictures so, they’d all thanked her, especially as the in-laws saw how everybody had, gathered together, they’d started, grinning ear to ear, and, she’d flashed that look of victory toward her husband too. Ever since, her husband’s family got into the habits, of having a family photo each and every year, and, with the births of the next generations, the family got larger, and larger, and that became, the pride and joys of her in-laws’ lives. And my coworker had even, put her careful thought, and photographs the families of her eldest and youngest brothers-in-law with their separate families, and enlarged, and developed the photos, and given to them, and made the extra copy for her in-laws too, told her mother-in-law, “When you missed your children and grandchildren, just look at the pictures, an d, you can, spend sometime, missing us, your daughters-in-law too”, it’d made, her mother-in-law laugh really hard.

an occasion for celebration…

And, just like that, my coworker, didn’t use her excellent cooking skills, she’d still, managed, to gain her in-laws’ love and trust, and, gained her status in the family. Turns out, that so long as the daughters-in-law have a skill, they can, make something of themselves, in the families of their husbands’ too.

So, this is, by the careful thought of this woman who’s someone’s daughter-in-law, and, at first, everybody wasn’t used to the idea, but, with the results from that first photo op, this woman had become, the designated family photographer, and she’d made her mother-in-law happy too.

Taking My Parents’ Hands

On the interaction between the parents and child here, translated…

Every time I’d seen the younger generations, taking their parents’ hands as they’re crossing the roads, I’d always, stopped, and took a moment, to watch this beautiful scene, thought to myself: isn’t that, the most beautiful picture of human nature there is?

I’d recalled my mother saying, “every time I’d walked across the streets, when my son or daughter-in-law held my arms, protected me as I crossed the streets, or take up my hands, reminded me, to walk closer to the inside, it’d given me this surge of warmth inside, felt, that I’d been, blessed for my entire life.”

intimate moments shared…

Such a simple and small move, how, can it bring, such a deep-rooted feeling? There must be, something that’s worth digging deeper into.

My son lives away, once I’d gone to visit him, it was, a cold, and wet morning, he’d come to the train stations to pick me up, as he saw me, he’d first, patted my shoulders, then, extended his left arm to get my suitcase, then, with his right hand, he’d held, my left hand, and, the series of “small moves” made my eyes misty, and, I’d gotten, warmer, all of a sudden.

a simple gesture that gives off so much warmth here…

And on that same day, I’d, discovered, that my son, is matured, not only that he’d gotten taller, but he’d known, how to care for his loved ones, and, I’d felt, this gratitude, and gotten to understand how my own mother had felt too.

As children, we would naturally, give our parents a hug, kiss them on the cheeks, or, slouched in their arms, but, with the coming of age, we’d become, physically, distant to our parents, even tried to “hide” ourselves from them physically. As parents, thinking about how close they are with their young, and comparing to how the kids had, drifted farther, and farther away from them, I’m sure, that the parents would feel, a ton, of regrets.

not my photo here still…

I’d needed a reminder, to take my parents’ hands more, and hoped, that I can have, close, bodily contacts with my own children as well, that is truly, beautiful, kind, and wonderful.

So, this, would be from the intimate (not that kind!!!) interactions one had with one’s own child, and the narrator is transferring the experience she’d received from her own son, onto her own parents, because, it is, extremely important, for the parents, to HUG their children, and if you do that regularly, surely enough, as your children got older, and you became aged, they will surely, hug you more too.

The Spring Fog, a Poem

Translated…

She Came

Brushed by the Shoulders, Silently,

sunrise over the forest…

Like the Times that Passed, Quietly By

Turning to Look, Her Skirt, Swayed, in the Breezes

The Cheeks of the Spring Slightly Wet, and Somewhat Cooler

Wearing the Layers and Layers of Muslin Made with Fog

The Whispers Came, from the Serene Silence

From the Million Branches, a Small Palm Came Outwaking up & getting breakfast…not my photo here still…

Tilted its Head, in an Attempt, to Grab a Hold of the Birds’ Calls that Passed Between the Trees

Standing Still in the Fog

Hearing that Light Murmur, Passing into My Ear, Covered by My Hair

Thin as the Smokes Rising, Light, as the Cherry’s Dreams

And, I’d, Become a Part of the Fog Too

With the Wings that Spread, Across the Hilltops, Passed Through the Valleys

Flew Towards, the Light, Slowly, Waking Up, in the Distance

The imageries here are so vivid, it’s, as if, you were, right there, in this natural place of beauty, waiting, with the birds, for the sunrise, isn’t it? That, is the amazing imagery that a great poet can produce for her/his readers.

The Boy Who Sat Next to Me in Elementary School

Translated…

Awhile ago, I got invited to a LINE group composed of my elementary school classmates, there were, seventeen on the list, and, what jumped into my view, was the name of that boy, the boy that sat next to me, the boy I fell for, for the very first time in my life.

not my photograph…

His grades were average, not too shabby at all, but, he’d always, scored, lower on the placements compared to me; the arts, the music weren’t his strong suits, nor were they, mine, but he’d always, asked me to do his music and arts assignments for him. I recalled, that it was, on a Monday, I was wearing my sneakers which I’d scrubbed very clean to school, as he commended me on how clean I’d scrubbed up my sneakers, he’d stated, “I will give you my sneakers to wash then”. At the moment, I’d become, speechless. And, even if we had a brand new seating chart later on in the semester, we’d not sat next to one another, he’d still come to me, to have me help him with his art assignments.

not my cartoon…

He’d appeared, to be, such a troublesome boy for me, and, I’d acted like a lot of the plots in the stories, scolded him out front, but deep down, I’d, developed, this sort of an affinity toward him. And, although the feelings that I’d carried, didn’t amount to anything more later on as we aged, but when I recalled those days when I was “summoned” by him to help, it’d still, made me smile.

And so, that, is how, when we were younger, we’d expressed our likings toward each other, because we were so very young, and uncomfortable with, verbalizing how much we liked one another, so, we’d started, throwing off hints here and there, hoping that the one we liked have the same feelings for us, and this, would be the memories, of a close-to-first love that this woman is now, recalling here…

Not Being Able to Say Goodbye to Dad…

not my photograph…

Time, to count UP all the regrets, piled up, over the years here…

Not being able to say goodbye to dad, I didn’t, make it back in time, for his memorial services, not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t, I got, tied up.

I’d, started a family of my own, and I know, that dad understood the importance of family to me, as he’d, instilled the values into my mind already. Not being able to say goodbye to dad, that, is the regret, that I still carried with me, ‘til this day, and, I’m thinkin’, that I will, NEVER be free, from the tortures of my own guilt, for not being able to say goodbye to him, one last, final time.

not my photograph…Not being able to say goodbye to dad, it’d happened, because I got too caught up, too lost, lost my focus on the most important matter in life, and, not being able to say goodbye to dad had made me learn a lesson, a very, very, hard way: that I needed, to drift my focus of my own life, back to the family, and, it took some time, to change the workings of my mind, sure, but, I’d, successfully, rearranged my own priorities now. That, is probably, the gift, that dad, gave to me, right after he’d, died…

Not being able to say goodbye to dad, how’s that possible? You were, around him, you were, the SOLE caretaker of him! How can you allow him to, die alone, on his own???