Friday, November 22, 2013

If my mother had a blog ...

... I could only imagine what she would write about.

She is this gentle soft-spoken lady who doesn't talk much, but speaks when the situation calls for it. By soft-spoken, I mean when she deals with friends and acquaintances or even strangers. But in bringing up her children, she is always assertive and will only raise her voice (or her eyebrow) when the situation becomes too much for both parties.

Of course, growing up outside of the technology era, childhood then was  more fun. No TV means no violent shows or soap comedies or daytime series where teenagers talk back to their parents etc. There were books, meager toys, and actual friends and same-age cousins who came over for playtime. Bringing up kids in those days were relatively easier.

I can imagine my mom writing a post about how her eldest kid excelled in babysitting the other siblings. How quickly they grew up and how she would wish she could hold back time. Or not... especially when the only boy in the family kept her on her toes all day.

She would probably write about the first day of school for everyone. Dad was a teacher then. He was transferred a lot, resulting in some of us growing up in different place, space and time hence the diverse childhood experiences.

My first day of school took place in Simunjan where my dad was the Headmaster. You'd think someone like me would be more obedient, or would love school because dad ran the school. Nope. I rebelled the first week of school. Throwing a tantrum (which lasted for a week) every time mom would wake me up. I can imagine she would post a picture of me hanging on the front door all teary-eyed and sniffly and looking unkempt while dad tried in vain to talk me into following him to school (with the other pupils watching). His gentle diplomacy apparently worked with the older kids, but not on the second youngest.

Lounging on the Throne: A cranky 3-year-old...

If mom had an Instagram, all of us kids would be a living journal then.

She would also probably write about her kids' achievement. Who got what place in class, who got how many A's, who wore what, whose friends bring what toys home, etc. It would be fun to read.

On the offhand note, she would also probably post about her adventures moving towns with dad after every promotion. She would probably hint of wanting to stay rooted or take permanent root elsewhere near home, but never would she write about her dissatisfaction. If she had any. She's the kind of woman who takes things all in stride. Back when she was adventurous then.

Being a teacher's wife and a mother of six -- all girls and just 1 boy -- probably has its own drama and adventure. I don't ever recall her complain about anything in her life. Not her wardrobe, her looks, not even her house which was always in a state of kids-chaos.

I was 7 years old when dad left the teaching profession to become a Pastor. And then the lady of the house followed suit and transformed to become a preacher's wife. I think she was made for her role, her humility and quiet strength just all fell into place. Dad must've been very proud to have her by his side throughout the transition. Even now.

I remember bringing my boyfriend (now my fiance) home about a year plus ago. She was always courteous even while sizing up the man who she suspected was the one to take me away someday. She didn't ask much question, didn't offer much information either, but just sat there indulging us with her quiet company. Sometimes she seemed far away in her thoughts that I was often surprised how astute her sense of hearing was. Mothers.

If she had a Twitter then, she would probably say "Daughter brought home bf today. Possibly the one?" or perhaps "Look who's joining for lunch today! The first time my little girl brought someone home who isn't a classmate or a former playmate" or maybe "Omg I cannot believe my eyes. My baby's all grown up!". I'm ancient, but it's good to read that if she ever did tweet like that.

And now closer to my wedding day, I suppose she would write about the going-ons with her future son in law. Her deepest thoughts on the whole interlada, and if she would agree on the man of my choice, etc. She won't write it all out -- knowing full well I'd be a follower of course -- but if there's one thing my mom is good at, it's saying things accurately without saying anything at all. A strange kind of apt vagueness that few people could read into. Something that I learned from her. Vagueness I mean.

Mostly, she would lay out in coherent words her own preparations for the big day. Giving advice to friends, maybe dispensing tips on weddings etc. Wait... that doesn't sound like her. Perhaps she would just write The 101 on how to let go of your second youngest daughter. [Second youngest kids are usually more cranky and needs more attention than the youngest due to them being in that position. Youngest kids get to have full attention what.]

My mother's daughter...

Sigh. If my mother had a blog, I  bet she would be a very good writer. She would hit her mark right on the spot. She would be vague, insightful, perhaps a tad sarcastic, dropping lots of hints, but always straight to the point... if you know what her points are. All from the single point of view of a wife and a mother. And a very sharp observer.

But, as it is, I am only imagining this. I wish she did, because then she could write a whole book. Those are stuffs of a good story. How can the world survive without stories like hers? To have seen the world and not write about it, to have lived and relived those valuable life experiences and not recount them, to have gone through and so much, and not record them?

Meanwhile, this is a recount of my own journey. Soon I will be someone's wife, and while I am still and will always be my mother's daughter, I foresee that I will have less time to spend with her. I hope by the grace of God, I am in her eyes, the woman she always prayed I would grow to be.

This is a dedication to you Mommy, the Queen of My Heart. <3. I thank God for you everyday. *sniffs sniffs*

NOTE: COUNTDOWN TO THE BIG DAY Pt 1
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Next: Now if DADDY had a blog...

Monday, November 11, 2013

Rereading those old posts ...


PRE-NOTE: I found an old blog post dating back in April 2008. Back then while still new in the blogging world, I wrote a few amateurish posts. Correction. I wrote a few self-pitying posts all in the name of ranting with the hopes to unload negative vibes off my soul. I’m a little  embarrassed to share, but shame is sometimes an important emotion to feel, I believe. It’s corrective, like guilt. The key is not to let the guilt and shame overwhelm your ability to improve yourself and your behavior. 
 


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The Worst Kind Of Fool...

… Acts without thinking, gets lead by the heart, rushes in deciding, enjoys the bliss way before the damages start to sink in, waits too long until it’s too late to turn back, blames herself for the unavoidable circumstances, and finds it hard to find in another person what she has always found in someone else.

The worst kind of fool is always misunderstood. Nobody takes her seriously, especially when she’s hurting. Nobody tries to reason with or understand her, they just be. 

The worst kind of fool heals harder and longer, if at all.

If I am a fool, I’d be all that. But what kind of a person would go through a life-altering experience and not be moved by it? What kind of a fool would die trying to find a silver lining in the midst of a brewing storm? What kind of a fool acts like nothing has happened when her very being has been destined by what she has seen, done and where she has been?

To all the worst kinds of fools out there… it is better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all. If it doesn’t break your heart, it is not love.

Tomorrow is another new day. Take each step in faith. For I believe that everything happens for a reason, for if it didn’t, it won’t have happened. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day to better the kind of fool I am.

Cheers.

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POST NOTE: Did I really write all that? Don't ask me what. But I feel like it sounded raw, like a fresh scar from a wound not quite closed yet but itching all over wanting to bleed.  I looked back at what I've been through years ago, and it's reassuring to know that I am still a whole person today, albeit a little jaded. But that's what life does to you. And I thank God everyday that I am able to look the world in the eye right now and say I have been the worst kind of fool and that has made me smarter. And Blessed.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Coffee Girl, the quarter of a story...

When I started with this blog, I had half of an idea of what I wanted to write about. I barely remember why after filtering many possible names to call myself, I ended up with Coffee Girl.

Half of the truth behind the name was that this isn't the first blog I ever owned. This is the fourth after the rest were opened and shut down and opened and shut down one after another. And with each blog came a different heading, a different theme, a different idea, and a different name. After the bleak repose and the drama that came with it, the storms eventually calmed down. Coffee Girl came, slowly blossoming, and most importantly, stayed.

Of all the names I chose for myself before, this one is the least likely to live up to its name. Truthfully, I love coffee but so does a million other women in this world. Friends and peers of the fairer sex who took a daily dose of caffeine to enable them to look the world in the eye one challenging day after another. None of us can have that exclusivity. If at all, we all have that right.

What's in a name? I don't have a real agenda. But whatever and whoever has touched my life has made it into these pages. Their stories and mine connected, has been turned into words. Sometimes it makes sense. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I write incoherently, but surprisingly some readers get me. Sometimes I take aim and miss and sometimes I shoot straight into the air at nothing for reasons unknown or reasons not made known, or no reason at all.

It's the 5th day of November. This is the last month of my life as a single woman. I've always known someday that this part of my life will unfold and that path will be laid in front of me. Ask me if I am scared. Ask me if I am excited. Ask me if I am ready. There are no well-prepped answers for some of life's greatest mystery. The thing to do is have faith and take the reign and enjoy the ride.

Coffee Girl loves coffee, but lately she has revolted. She used to love writing, but now she hardly updates this blog, and apologizing for every remiss. She used to love country music, but lately she stopped Googling for good new songs. She used to love romance novel, but even the last book she bought a year ago stays untouched. She used to love the outdoor and getting sweaty with nature, but her snickers stopped stepping on mud after trekking back from Kinabalu Summit. Has she changed all that much? Perhaps.

Are those good or bad changes? Coffee Girl sees more of the world now, taking trips outside of her comfort zone, stuffs she thought she'd never do or never had the chance to in the past. She takes more care of herself now too, and caring for another. When it comes to evening things up, the lady wins after all. I mean, doesn't love do crazy things to people sometimes?

Writing a blog was the best decision I ever made. It opened the world for me, and the world open up to me. Who's to say what other good things will come out of this?

I don't know where I am actually going with this entry, but when I started, I had a whiff of an idea that some things need explaining. As I reach this line, I believe that some stuffs shouldn't really be explained. Some things are just bigger than what's right in front of you.

I run by a name, but this name isn't mine. This isn't about coffee. This is about life.


Yours truly,
One of the many true blue Coffee Girls.
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