keep the fire burning...

When we were born in this world, we didn't know anybody and anything else. We knew only those who took care of us. We were easily amazed with how the leaves move when they are blown by the wind. We were so amazed with the drops of water that falls from the sky from time to time. It was called rain. Hmmmm, rain, a new word. We used to think that they were tears of crying angels. When we first uttered a word, it was something huge. When we first walked the earth, we felt so proud. Our parents made us look at it as a great achievement. I wonder why firsts are always so memorable, and when we do it again, it is not as big as the first one. Our first day at school, our first kiss, our first real love. It was all beautiful.

It feels good to be happy. What's good about being a child is you see things differently. You see beauty in a rather dreadful world. It's like seeing a toy out of an rusty, empty tin can. We felt happy even if we saw things that we didn't know were bad. Innocence. It's the joy of being a kid. Hakuna Matata.


There are times in my life that I want to turn back time and go back to my childhood. I remember, when I was younger, I wanted to grow up so fast so that I can do what I want to do, without my papa and my mama's consent. But now it's as if I regret that I wanted that. When I see children and when I see their childhood, I feel like going back to mine. It was a time when I need not worry about grown up things, a time that I need not worry at all. As a child, I dreamt big. It made me happy, dreaming made me happy. But as I grew up, I learned a lot of things and in the process, I met a lot of people, some of them have become close friends, even.

Labels: childhood, children, dreams

I'm reading a book. It's called Living, Loving and Learning by Leo Buscaglia, Ph.D. This book is too optimistic for me, albeit, there is something in the book that keeps me flipping its pages. I've read only a few pages, but I feel that I have learned a lot. The power of words is really amazing. It can either make or break you. It is for this reason that I think before I utter a word. But anyway, there are still times that you have to say words that can hurt people because you have to, but you have to make sure that what you are saying is true.

It is a fact that in order for man to learn, he has to feel pain several times. Sometimes, the pain is nothing, and sometimes, he feels a pain so great, that he just wants everything to stop. It is entirely up to him if he will get out of it, no matter how big the pain he feels, or if he will just bury himself and feel the pain until he dies. It will be his choice if he will be strong or will be weak.

There are a lot of different ways of coping with pain. Either ways, you will need the help of another, a greater power at times. What makes a man human is the pain that he has to feel throughout his life. But what makes a human a person is the love and the care that he feels deep within him and the love and the care that he has to share.

"I think the loving person must return to spontaneity - return to touching each other, to holding each other, to smiling at each other, to thinking of each other, to caring about each other... Hugs are good, they feel nice, and if you don't believe it, try it."
- Leo Buscaglia, Ph. D.

Labels: life, Living Loving and Learning

I didn't want to change my very first blog so I decided to add another blog instead. I admired this template so why not use it. Fire has always fascinated me and I love the color red, a perfect combination. I'd like to think I'm fiery, so I guess it applies. I love to talk, but when I talk, it is only my mind that speaks. When I write, my mind and my heart join forces. Writing was never my passion, or so I thought, but I've always kept a journal. I call it my big black notebook, because it HAD a black cover and it is big. My big black notebook is the only witness to what my heart really speaks, so its like my companion through thick and thin. When I get so happy, so brilliant, so lonely, so frustrated, so weary, so furious, I pour it all out to my trusted companion. It is my therapy, writing, I mean. I still have my big black notebook with me, minus the black cover. I have never shared it with anybody else, until now, though I was left with no choice when they decided to prowl over the pages without my knowledge. I used to get so angry when I find out that somebody has gone through its pages. There were three people who have seen what's written on it, and these three people I had to forgive, because they are the three most important people in my life. What is left of my big black notebook are a few pages, some torn. I am not giving my companion up, and neither am I giving my first blog up(I have an active blog before this, so technically, this is my second blog) It's just that I feel that I need another blog with a different feel to it. I feel that this will be my serious side... hopefully...

Labels: big black notebook, rants