the sound of silence

My soul is tormented without having to hear something.
For goodness sake speak up or a least utter a word or something.
A mumble would be better than nothing.
I can not stand the sound of your deafening silence...
Its killing me after torturing my being.
Speak up be heard lest I get immune and be
cold as silence.

im gettin there

Writing for me is like a mental exercise. It is like im downloading all the rubbish I have in my sub-concious mind to put it somewhere else. I find satisfaction whenever I read my blog. The reason why I am happy reading it is that I find it like a game.

It is like a game where I have to spot my opponent and kill him once I find him. I am not really much of a writer but just an ordinary hobbyist of writing i must admit. Grammatical and typo errors abound. Everyday I try to spot it and almost everyday no matter how many times I read my blog I always catch one, two or several editing job for me. They are my opponents my enemies that I need to down.

Hey don't ever think I am some kind of a lunatic. Maybe I am . Writing for me is an expression just simply put it that way. I get the thrill of knowing that somewhere, somehow, somebody is getting a piece of my mind. I get flattered when my friends says they read my blog, and they like it. It is like an achievement a feeling of natural high comes with that thought.

However even if I am happy with my writing, everytime I re-read my blog entries, I know there is something lacking. Right now I have figured it out. My unhappiness probably is a result of feelings of restraint and inadequacy. I do not exactly know the reasons why I am avoiding some theme that I would like to write. Perhaps, the words is just hiding at the back of my mind or simply I do not want to write it yet because it is not yet the time.

Yes, I am writing and will continue to write, this is a practice for me. Until the time I am ready to write the secret thoughts that lingers in my mind. I am getting there somehow, little by little im getting there.

Migrants smile

In all the major cities I have been to I kept noticing poignant smiles of Filipino. New York, London, Amsterdam, Brussels, Hongkong and almost everywhere you could find Filipinos the raison d'etre is to escape poverty in the country. I am just wondering about the perflexing smile though. As regards to the smile of Filipino migrant workers it is sincere but there is a hidden sense of bitterness. I was expecting a sort of victorious and vivacious smile for someone who had escaped the fangs of hunger and lack of sheer material wealth. But their smile is an evidence to the contrary. It is not a smile of total fulfillment.

Their smile is a concealment of a worse condition than poverty. The misery of not being loved, wanted and cared for. The misery of being away from what you call your own.