An Invitation To Go Home

I remember when I was a kid, on sixth grade if i’m not mistakenly remember, I got a birthday party invitation from a friend. The address was: APT Gandaria. My cousin, he’s about 10 years older, drove me to the party. We were unable to find the location as the phrase APT was such a mystery. After three times got lost into the wrong neighborhood, we finally solved the mystery–APT stands for Apartment. Back then apartments were not as many as today, so we were not aware/familiar with the acronym. That was an invitation that was like a mystery.
After attending more birthday parties during my pubescent age, I learned that there are other kinds of invitation-work interview. My first work interview was in 2009, I was an undergrad, looking for extra money so I applied to a study center on campus to be a secretary. I remember I was nervous, so briefed myself about possible questions and what the best answers were. I was a bit stammered in the beginning but then got my confidence. I ended up working there for two years. That was an invitation that was like a life lesson.
I got so good at working interviews, as time goes by. I’m almost always able to steal the interviewer’s heart and they end up recruting me. But, there were times when I failed as well. And these times were the best lessons:sometimes it’s not because you’re not good, it’s just because you’re not meant to be there. After trying to figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life, I work my way through, and still am. And you know how time flies, right? How you got so deep in your own little circle, building a life you think was righy for you. Until one day, everything you have done to create your own life and happiness just collapsed in front of you. Yep. Just like that.

And here comes a new invitation. A call for going ‘home’. In your exhaustion, your desperation, you need someone there to tell you everything’s going to OK. Someone who hug you, who lifts you up. And when you get older this circle of friends is getting smaller. And your bestest friend is just so far away from you.

I pray. I realize that it’s just not possible for me to handle all things by myself. That it’s just impossible to understand why good, hard working, honest and caring people will still end up falling apart and ‘losing’. I choose to believe that there’s this greater power that control chain of events and all I can do is to just surrender. So I pray. I go back home, collecting the pieces of my broken heart, finding myself, accepting the bitter truth that I just… have to start all over again. It’s not easy. But being grounded, finding the center of your life again is truly a blessing. And it’s just come to my understanding, which is probably hypothetical or even a paradox, that no matter what your problems are, they’re just temporary. They’re just reminders of what other important, more urgent matters you need to do. And then, sooner than you had expected, you’ll get back to normal. Things starting to change and it all comes back to you.

This is an invitation to realize what is truly essential in life.

via Daily Prompt: Invitation

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F.E.A.R

A a beautiful post from Nikita Pandya about fear really struck me in the heart and inspired me to compose this writing.

I always imagine myself as courageous woman. I always have this image of myself being able to stand up for every one in need, defending those whose rights have been abused. But I guess, that’s just an illusion. I was not brave at all.

The point where I finally got the nerve to stand up was when I confronted my angry father, who had his fist clenched and punched it to the wall right next to my left ear. I did not blink and I certainly did not try to avoid that fist. I looked him in the eye, and challenged him. I said, ‘Go on, do what you want to do with me. I am not afraid.’ After that we had an endless and pointless argument for about an hour.

I went back to my room and suddenly I started crying. I called my husband, at the time still my boyfriend, and couldn’t say a word. I just cried. He listened to me crying until when I was finally able to control my breathing, I said, “Dad tried to hit me again,” and he said, “Okay. Now what do you want me to do?” and I replied, “Nothing. I’m going to hang up the phone. I love you.”

I think it was the bravest moment in my life that I have ever experienced. When I was a kid, when my father would swing his arm to hit me in the face or wherever he can land his hand upon me, I would not dare to even look him in the eye.

I guess growing up makes me stronger. I guess moving away from the family gave me a different perspective and suddenly I am not a child anymore.

But I am still not fearless. I’m still afraid of things unknown and uncertain. I certainly still afraid of failure. And, oddly enough, I don’t want to lose that feeling. Fear has made me stronger. I’ve known fear for almost my entire childhood. We’re sort of best friends. Without fear, I wouldn’t be able to prepare the worse case scenarios. And therefore, I wouldn’t be able to strategize my steps forward. Fear makes me human.

 

I walk side by side with fear

I acknowledge her being there

Watching me, taunting me

 

It gives me goose bumps

It makes my voice tremble

It discourages my faith

 

Sometime I got beaten

Most of the times I won

 

Fear is not the enemy

Fear is the motivation,

The drive,

To keep on moving forward,

And to dare

Always.

 

The Perks of Being A Wife To A Rockstar

The perks of being a wife to a rockstar is that I get to make other girls envy me because most of the girls worship boys who can play music instrument and are in a band. These girls tend to think those boys are cool as they’re the centre of the public’s attention and popular, etc. I don’t marry my husband because he’s in a band or to get famous. I marry him for all of the classic reasons in liking a person–he’s kind, comfortable in being himself and eventually makes me feel comfortable being myself around him–and most importantly because he has passion and determined. We dated for eight years before we finally got married and in those years I was blessed and able to achieve even greater things than I am alone. So that’s WHY I marry him.

The perks of being a wife to a rockstar is that I’m also his assistant. In my case, because he’s often forgetful this role is extremely important… for the sake of our relationship. Part of this job is to help him decide what to wear, what not wear, and recently I even helped him decide which guitar he should take on stage. The latter don’t usually happen, because that’s his area of specialty. He is the guitarist, not me. But yeah, tonight before the show I asked, Why not use the explorer? He replied that this is just a small gig. But just before he left the house he carried his explorer. HAHAHA! I also get to arrange his schedule, sometimes, and when I have a Continue reading “The Perks of Being A Wife To A Rockstar”