Palilalia

Words are all I have, which is why I sometimes do not have enough of them to express substantially my point, so I end up saying “actually” or “technically” over and over. In the same way, at times,  I only have  a word or two to deliver my exact point, like “exactly” or “precisely.” These verbal tics, annoying as they seem, turn out to be the excellent choices for conversation starters and terminators after all. 

What would I ever do without them? 

We have all been in boring and not so boring classes in high school, and the only thing that has kept us entertained is drawing sticks on our notes to tally a word that our teacher would say over and over again. As we grow older, we realize that some old habits die hard, and we continue to build fences on memo pads whenever we are trying to make it out alive of a staff meeting or conference, because the one presiding seems to end each statement with the same word. 

Sometimes, we wonder, there are over a hundred thousand words in the dictionary, but why do people have to keep on repeating but one?

What is more interesting is, to some people this tic manifestation is categorized as a disorder. While parents of children with autism worry over their children’s pathological speech behavior, here I am, merely making a complex deal out of my self-diagnosed palilalia, as my own form of withdrawal from being annoyed with myself, because denial and anxiety get the best of me whenever my mind stalls for a better way to enunciate my thoughts. While it is a disurbing language disorder to some teens and adults, we belong to that portion of the class perhaps who take this disordered speech patterns of our teachers or colleagues as a thing to make fun of. 

Why is that?

Amidst burning issues and challenging situations, we do run out of better words to say and take diction for granted, to a point that we trigger the red light for language check. Still we scald our tongue with words like “crap” and “damn” (I have to filter the real words for these two) over and over again, meant or half-meant. I guess this is the same feeling when we say “okay” or “alright” though we never mean them, because these are all we can comfortably say to avoid having to explain ourselves or telling the truth about our feelings. This is the same as well when we say “I was like” or “you know” when there isn’t really something like it or no one really knows, but we say it repeatedly anyway because we “literally” have nothing else to say. 

Are we better off running out of words to say then? If I do, what do I say?

Non-linear Thoughts

I am starting to believe my brain is a briefcase of graphic organizers.

How I wish I could sort my thoughts in compartments and mentally label them, each time I have to challenge my own reasons behind decisions that I make by every turn of the clock.

 How I wish I could trace back the dots I connect in my mind in a trail of wise guesses and second guesses just the same, each time I demand from myself the validation of my own principles. 

How I wish I could cross over timelines in my brain and relearn or unlearn the tricks and trades of banal existence, each time I look for better options than the ones that I thought were already the best.

How I wish I knew how to declutter my brain, because I am beginning to feel that this mind map I carry with me is not only divine but also deadly. 

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.

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.

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So just let me stop and stare.

 

Midday Dreams

Am I the only one wishing I could sleep and wake up with an opportunity to live life again, skipping the shitty parts, and even the great ones that eventually lead to shitty parts still?

I feel like this when it is cold and it is too hot to go outside either that I’d rather put up with the cold, but the roars of laughter I should be sharing with the ones doing them annoy me that I wish I were not here the first place.

The thing is, it is almost 3 pm, maybe I just need coffee.

Interactions 101

Grade 7 Science has opened my eyes to many things I have taken for granted about relationships. I never had this kind of connection with Science until I attended a class as part of my functions as supervisor of teacher performance.

Miss Lyn opened the lesson on “Interactions in the Ecosystem” with the question: what do you do in order to interact with the other members of the class? what do animals do if in their own environment? Answers ranged from talking, listening to protecting and killing. Then, the parade of concepts about how organisms interact in the ecosystem proceeded. From the the leading questions, to the concept-forming questions and the synthesizing and valuing questions, I gathered my own thoughts about a few of these interactions:

Mutualism, the art of “give and take”

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Being with someone-sharing innermost thoughts and feelings, contributing to the the other’s emotional and spiritual growth, nurturing passions and whims- is not a one-way street. However, living and keeping up with giving when taking is bliss, sometimes clouds the connection. When a person graces you with attention, concern and care, sometimes you feel overwhelmed that you forget that you have the obligation to make the other person feel the same, not exactly the same way but in the way you know how. Sharing mutual feelings allows us to be inventive and imaginative as to how we can reciprocate joy whenever we get the feeling from someone’s efforts to amuse us. Mutual understanding also breeds respect and trains us to be sensitive, in a way that we avoid words and actions that we know shall cause us pain and dissatisfaction if we were given the same treatment. Mutual understanding values connection even without words spoken, making love more heartfelt because you may be able to make someone feel precious even if you don’t need to say anything or more.

Parasitism, putting up with the users

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What kind of relationship makes a parasite out of us? It might be the relationship when you make someone believe you care but that is only because you derive benefits from the relationship. Casual favors are tolerable, but making another person sacrifice his or her own happiness just so you can enjoy your capriciousness is a painful thing for the host, and a shame for the parasite. The sad reality is, we tolerate parasites. Our home crumbles, our skin itches, our society is infested, because we do not do anything about the parasites. We are too kind to parasites and look past their schemes. Hosts should never be applauded for their martyrdom, knowing they are being used, complain but give in to the users. Is this even something we can call relationship if we love parasites so much we can’t let them go? Hosts, unlike preys, actually have a choice not be aggravated but they choose to be undermined. Their idea of a relationship is controlled by their over eagerness to be selfless even if this would mean stripping them of their dignity and freedom. Could we blame them?

Predation, antagonism at its finest

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It seems that when we care for someone, when we are in a relationship that secures us with the satisfaction of belonging, predators are not a thing to be scared of. How many of us have been victims of this kind of interaction-hunted, eyed on, grasped and struggles to be consumed?  We know that sometimes making a commitment entails risk and dangers, especially when our oblivious heart yearns nothing but to be cuddled and cared for, but we continue to make ourselves open to be preyed on. Then, when others hurt us, we can’t do anything else but bleed. Do we curse the predators for being mean? Well if we force ourselves to be in a relationship that has taken parasitism for granted and evolved into an interaction that has made the parasite a heartless predator hurting the host that has turned into a weak prey, then maybe we should rethink how we see relationships. Pain is inevitable, but allowing yourself to be devoured is a different story. Nobody has the right to hurt you if you don’t give them the power to. But sometimes we choose to be hurt. Endless why’s flood our senses, but we refuse to give them answers.

So what kind of relationship do we have? Are we enjoying cloud 9 with mutualism? Are we enduring the sense of sacrifice that comes with parasitism? Are we resistant to pain caused by predation? Or maybe it is mutualism reduced to parasitism and evolving to predation?

Everything I need to learn about relationships I learned in Science for the 7th grade.

Make Up Transformations

Today is the first day of September. Today I realized I have not been wearing what I am supposed to be wearing. Today I realized I have been flat, bland and emotionless for the past months. For the past months I have been hiding behind smiles and sarcasms without regard for how beaming or sour I appear to people I face. For the past months it might not have mattered to me, but it might have to those who look up to me and those who don’t and are dying to have my face off theirs.

For the past months I wore nothing but my ordinary face, but today I decided to have my make-up on.

This would be the ultimate test, the great action research, the insightful experiment: will a touch of crimson on my lips make me sound more interesting? will a stroke of eyeliner make me look more sincere? will a dash of powder make me glow with optimism? will make-up transform anything in me?

I could only guess.

Dim Sum Break with Confucius

Time for another Odd Trio prompt: write a post about any topic you want, in whatever form or genre, but make sure it features a slice of cake, a pair of flip-flops, and someone old and wise.

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Confucius came to have breakfast with me this morning, with a slice of cake and a pair of flip-flops.

“I read the Fault in Our Stars and I find the Augustus Waters’ metaphors very inspiring that I have come to show you a couple metaphors, too,” Confucius greeted me, beaming at the slice of cake and the pair of flip-flops.

“I know your question even before you ask me about it. For a change, why don’t you give me an answer and I will tell you if you have the right question,” he continued as I offered him too pick anything from the dim sum platter.

“So a slice of cake, and a pair of flip-flops. They are metaphors, huh?” I started talking, struggling for the answers I need to give him so I may know if I am asking the right questions.

“I need a break, I know, wise man.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And a slice of cake and a pair of flip-flops are just the things I need.”

“Is that right?”

Sometimes talking to someone very old and wise makes me impatient, but I knew what he was trying to lead me on.

“Life is too delectable to go solo on a sweet fix. A slice of cake will do, and a slice means others have their one slices too. We all deserve something sweet, then we might as well share the pleasure this life gives us.”

“I am listening,” he mumbled through the steamy sweet buns.

“Wearing a pair of flip-flops is the best feeling after walking on a plank in high heels. Sometimes going flat makes us feel the ground better and appreciate the roads we journey more.”

“I am listening,” he told me, this time, smiling with eyes closed as he took pleasure devouring a couple of spring rolls.

“I am glad you came with a slice of cake and a pair of flip-flops,” I thanked him, as I popped a fried dumpling into my mouth, smiling through bits that fall off each time I chewed.

“Did you like the metaphors?”

“Did I get them right?”

“I don’t think that is what you want to ask,” Confucius grabbed a fortune cookie and started to leave his seat. he gave me wink and then he disappeared.

“I know right,” I smiled at an empty space. I got a fortune cookie myself, more interested on how it tasted than what the piece of paper inside would say.

“I should be wise enough to know what to do with this life. And I need more than luck to do this.”

 

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http://www.dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/odd-trio-redux/