Time Check

I notice how every second seems to race with my heartbeat. I notice how the clock seems to give me mini panic attacks all the time. I notice how time seems to run out so fast.

What I do not notice is that, every second lasts the same way, the clock works the same way, and time goes by the same way.

I never want to notice how the clock strikes every hour because I know that I have not stricken out enough items on my to-do list. I never want to notice how the clock stays undaunted by pressure while I disintegrate at every turn of the clock. I never want to notice how the clock feels unthreatened when deadlines are undeniably gruesome.

I wish I could trade places with a clock even just for a second. But I can’t help but wonder, will it ever change how I battle against time—time and time again? I guess not.


At the moment, I feel like I have ticked off the things I need to do for the day but at the back of my mind I know I have more checklists to attend to.

At the moment, I feel hungry that I want to splurge on every piece of junk food sold at stalls nearby where there seems to to be a great celebration over suspension of classes because it is sports fest season, but my pocket seems to be unwilling to take that splurge and my weary mood won’t stand a second amidst the festivities.

At the moment, I enjoy the sound of the tapping of the keyboard that I do while writing down this blog as well as the synchronous ticking of the clock telling me to not waste time away over blogging because I have letters to send out and reports to accomplish, but I am pretty much enjoying myself all rambled up in this piece I am writing so the heck with deadlines.

At the moment, I want to grab my bag, put on my earplugs, touch my playlist on shuffle and let the first song decide how I shall feel the moment, but let me unplug all sockets first and turn off all the lights because it is already way past my official duty hours.


[Image not mine]
Photo credit: http://www.so-many-places.com/2014/11/my-writing-desk/


How you love to hate me now.

Brushing and untangling the threads back then nearly drove me crazy but I stayed, until you pulled that one weak thread and I just snapped. I turned my back and walked away leaving you to believe it was the petty argument I was so upset with. I did not even bother to clarify things or offer reasons at all. I gave you silence because when you pulled  that one weak thread, it was enough to dry me out of words to say. I have nothing else left to say. I do not know what to feel and how to feel anymore.

Holding my weak thread, you continue to have power over me. In my silence, you had all the words to say in order to make me feel worthless and miserable because you could not get me to speak of reasons you would like to hear why it had been (for you) too easy for me to just throw away what we have. In my silence, I did not bother to express that you were wrong to say that I did the thing you hate I did without thinking how it would hurt us both. I did it with a heavy heart. You should know better. You cast the weight upon my heart yourself.

What I did is unforgivable.

You are taking what I decided to end with you to your grave, to your last breath, to eternal damnation. The rage is clear and regret is not visible. You said I killed you. Well you have killed me twice. You got all threads wound up on me leaving me no room to breath. You are unwilling to accept how sorry I am that things would have to amount to this but you left me with no choice because for you, I have no right to leave you. You have left me many times and yet we got to where we were before I mustered my own courage to do it myself that time. It is true that I did not even give it a second thought. I did it carelessly. Well I have been careful and caring for a long time, but the burning threads had to stop. You have scarred me way too deep.

It easier to ravage the rubble than resurrect it.

The threads are unmanageable. It takes a long to time to untangle, but it takes a split second to coil them, tear them, destroy them or throw them away. You are unwillingly to restore peace because of what seems to be a crime that I committed against you. You think you are the only one who is in pain here. You have all the right to destroy me because what I did to you is unacceptable. You have my weak thread, so I think you can do whatever you want. So if you think living with the wreckage will make things better for us, then burn the ashes further. I have nothing left to offer. There is nothing left in me for you destroy so you are only wasting your time.

I don’t know you anymore.

You said you are the same person I used to know but I taught you just how you are supposed to treat me by the feelings I accused you of making me feel. For you, my wrecked feelings are accusations and never real. You don’t believe in me. I now understand why it is easy for you to hate me as much as you love me. Do you even love me after all? Well it does not matter now I guess. Even if I wanted to take back the things I have said and undo the things I did, it would never change the truth I have seen surfaced out from you that I have not known before, and I would not want to risk being faced with the scary stranger I am facing now ever again.

I have said sorry already. For you. For everything. End of thread.

Of Daily Miracles and Simple Joys

Reason to Believe
Daily miracles. Simple joys. These are my reasons to believe that there will always be something to be grateful for and I must have still done something good to deserve the small things in this unfair but beautiful life that push me to go on and live another day.

I believe in angels in disguise.

They usually appear before us just when we think we can never surface out from being buried too deep by daily circumstances. They may come with a word, a story, a consolation, a solution, an opportunity, a smile, a hug, a chance. Then this gives us reasons to believe that God is stronger than our fears and pains. We are all responsible for everything that happens in our lives and although they happen for a reason, sometimes we do not think and respond correctly and accordingly to the divine plan and we end up lost somewhere. Whenever we are gotten lost, troubled and held down by certain circumstances, it is pure bliss that we are never alone even if we make ourselves believe that we are. Angels are with us always all the time. Daily miracles give me reason to believe that I will get by even if I am split second away from losing it.

I believe joy is cheap and priceless.

Simple joys make a treasure out of desires too huge and complicated to attain and sustain. Simple joys can be a warm cup of instant coffee your daughter or son mixed for you, a long afternoon nap with your toddler after watching a favorite movie, a 5-minute chair massage experience for P10 that you share with your children like it were child’s play, an ice cream sandwich that you take delight on with your kids because it is chocolate after all and it does not have to pricey, a snuggle toy you get from a pick-and-drop game for a singe try…We sometimes think we need all the money in the world to experience joy but sometimes we just have to value the time we get to spend with the ones with love in order to have moments to cherish after all despite have less than what we should enjoy and deserve. Simple joys give me a reason to believe that as long as I have time to give, the opportunities to share joy is infinite.

There is no room for hopelessness and discontent when you have reasons to believe that miracles happen on a daily basis and joy does not have to come with a price.

With daily miracles and simple joys, who am I to demand much from this unfair but beautiful life?



The Enigma of Learning

When we ever learn that learning is best when one is ready to learn?

Year after year, scholar after scholar, theory after theory, research after research, design after design—the transition is endless in the pursuit of learning.

My favorite principle will always be, a learner shall learn whenever the learner is ready, so no amount of extrinsic motivation, proven and tested strategies and profound teaching styles will ever get a learner to learn what he has to learn if the learner is not ready to learn.

Truly, this is a challenge. For one, one can never really figure out if it is the most teachable moment already; second, one can never really tell if learning has transpired despite ready evidences translated by well-though of assessment tools and standards.

Every person has a unique learning style. In a teacher’s perspective, it is sometimes to convenient to put labels on students as to how they learn in order to match the teaching styles the teacher employs. In a learner’s perspective, it is a spontaneous pursuit to learn through ways a learner knows how given the teacher’s role as facilitator of learning. It could be any style at all, but it all boils down to the strongest principle most scholars should pay attention more and that is, getting the learner ready and figuring out if the learner is ready.

As a teacher, I rely on cooperative learning and differentiated instruction in order to accommodate the various learning styles of students. As a learner, in this life in general, I could not entirely rely on learning my life lessons by collaborating with others because despite a little help around the corner being nice, I could rely on no one but myself to realize what I should be doing and doing right. True enough, just as differentiated instruction caters to individual differences, I could never make the life of someone else as a point of reference for the decisions I make. I could be wrong and I could be right about my judgments, but the most important thing is, they are my judgments and I am fully accountable for what they make out of me.

It can never be denied that we learn from lectures,visuals and reading books. It can never be denied that we learn in a group or from one person. However, all these styles may only work if we are ready once and for all to take in what we have come to learn the first place.

Are we ever ready to learn then?

Daily Prompt:
Learning Style
What’s your learning style? Do you prefer learning in a group and in an interactive setting? Or one-on-one? Do you retain information best through lectures, or visuals, or simply by reading books?

7 of 366

What is it with 7 and luck?


I’d rather be grateful than lucky.

Yes, I talk to the universe and all, especially when an awful fist of luck knocks me out like a domino falling, hitting me hard one blow after the other…or when nothing seems to be going my way no matter which way I go…or even when everything is dead blank and pitch dark yet and still the stars are too flicker on me…mostly, during the times I have to have something to blame and I could no longer force the blame on myself or to anyone. Yes, I do talk to the universe when I feel that I am the unluckiest earthling alive. It would seem like I am believer of luck. I may seem to be. But luck has never been kind to me. I even doubt if it ever exists.

Maybe when the universe is being less of a bitch and is starting to force a ray of good luck upon me, I am really not lucky at all.

Luck is too random to believe in and the universe is too bitchy to be nice to a random and insignificant earthling like me. But there is a stronger force, greater force behind the universe that makes me feel grateful instead. I am ever grateful, oh yes, I am, that as days fall off, I may falter but I don’t end with them.

Today marks the 7th day of my new year. With or without luck, I am grateful. With or without stars, I am grateful. I am grateful because I am alive to count up to this day that is about to end.

Tomorrow is another shot at winning fist fights with the universe.

Bring it on.


Some people live beautiful lives and they take pleasure in being wanderers. Some people live unfair lives beautifully and they find joy in being loiterers.

The first time I encountered the term ‘loitering’ was when I was a grader. All over the hallways of my school back then were reminders stating “NO LOITERING ALONG THE CORRIDORS” and student leaders took the rule seriously by dragging to the office of the Principal whoever was caught staying along the corridors. I have always thought loitering as illegal, a bad thing to do, a violation. Today, loitering to me is salvation.

To loiter is to stay in a place for no reason at all…to lag behind…to stop idly delaying something…It isn’t a crime at all as I used to think of it when I was a grader. At the moment, loitering is saving me from overthinking, stressing over and worrying about fickle matters.

Days have been passing me by and each passing day I seem to lose a part of me to frustrations when I am fully aware that there is a great deal of joy I am putting away just so I can bleed over the wrong decisions I have made in the past. I carry the weight of the past around allowing it to slow me down to where joy truly is and weighing me down instead of being strong enough to afford a simple smile. Short or long, the days have left me depleted, drained and devastated. Until one day, I decided to walk aimlessly. Then I decided to keep still. That was then I knew what I have been missing.

Walking aimlessly may sound like I have gone nuts or something. But the real score is, I have been walking around, sometimes chasing, running and leaping for things I would never have the power to control, and I have never given myself the opportunity to see myself in the very things that I just allow to pass me by, like the days that were supposed to have been spent with a better purpose than just having to get it over and done with. As the passing days consume me, I do not even recognize myself anymore. I have lost me.

So I have stopped and stared at familiar and unfamiliar places alike, hoping to find myself again. There are pieces of me everywhere and I have been too busy brooding to notice that even broken pieces show a beautiful story. I am everywhere, and I have to be a loiterer to be able to attract back to me the wondrous pieces I have thrown out because I do not want to be reminded of how unfair life is (truth is, life is really unfair, but someone told me that life is unfair but is still beautiful, and I believe him). In stopping by without purpose, stepping back a bit, staring while in senseless stops, I have seen once more how beautiful this life can be.

Even though I cannot promise myself that I will never have to lose my way again, I know that I can never be completely lost. Even though I cannot promise myself that I will never have to slice pieces of myself up, I know that I am not beyond repair; I can be fixed. That is the salvation from being a loiterer.


Some people live beautiful lives and they take pleasure in being wanderers. Some people live unfair lives beautifully and they find joy in being loiterers.


So just let me stop and stare.