"Lead, Kindly Light."

My Thursday involved back-to-back meetings and I was relieved by lunchtime when I was able to spend part of it in quiet meditation and then mass. The priest quoted part of St. John Henry Newman's poem, and I'm sharing it here below:

Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,

Lead Thou me on;

The night is dark, and I am far from home,

Lead Thou me on.

Keep Thou my feet;

I do not ask to see the distant scene;

one step enough for me.

Burnout is imminent. Are you in that zone too? If yes, let us acknowledge our exhaustion and rest our minds for a while from thinking about our bottomless to-do lists. I just had a small bite-sized Cadbury fruit and nut chocolate bar as a treat. That may be my favorite chocolate (or among my topmost), mainly because I remember that my late mother liked it (aside from Nestle Crunch, which I may have written about before). It's delicious, of course, but I like that when I consume it, I'm sort of sending a silent shoutout to my mother. She was intelligent, beautiful, feisty, funny, humble, and a really good mother. I feared her, but I depended on her. I just had my birthday on the Feast of St. Thérèse of Lisieux and I've officially outlived my mother. I realized just how young she was when she passed--a temporal landmark for me. I feel that I'm currently experiencing a milestone in life. I didn't have a huge celebration, but we did get Japanese takeout and a panna cotta cake from this French bakery that I've been curious to try. Unfortunately, said cake taught me that dairy sensitivity can be developed later in life. I digress. Oh, in birthday-related news, my husband and I gifted ourselves with musical instruments during the recent Long & McQuade used equipment sale. My husband's birthday preceded mine by a month and he was really planning on getting that acoustic bass for quite some time. The classical guitar I got is an impulse purchase triggered by midlife crisis. 

That's it for today's rambling about Life. Now that I'm at this temporal landmark, I'm grateful to see as far as the next step. I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough for me.

what in the underworld heatwave?

This will be one of those non-introspective posts meant to express mind garbage. Indulge me.

It’s hot and muggy outdoors so the plan was to stay at home for the most part of the weekend. I still haven’t finished James Rollins’ Subterranean, because it was getting gory…as in human-decapitation-by-jagged-toothed-spiky-creatures level. Spoiler alert. I still like it and just needed some mental breaks. I’m avoiding nightmares involving being chased by ancient reptilians in tight underground caves.

So last night, I decided to browse through available romance ebooks from the public library via the Libby app and found one that had an interesting description. I will disappoint you by NOT revealing the title, because it was *insert this post’s title + fanning myself*. maybe I’m embarassed—I know I shouldn’t be, because the author writes well, but the sides of my face are now very warm. The book’s heroine was an autistic econometrician (well, you could Google that and you’d simply find out, eh?). So many relatable aspects about her character, that…that…it’s as if someone picked my brain. I’m not on the spectrum, but share some characteristics. You know what? Fine. I’m embarassed that you, my imaginary/ non-existent, possibly bot readers will look down on me for having enjoyed a steamy piece of prose. I just finished the book. Read it in less than 12 hours. 🤓

So there’s that. I will now publish this post, go to the fridge and pour myself a glass of cold sparkling water.

me, a geriatric millenial/xennial

MySpace facts, I quote tweeted. And this blogger page is another HTML DIY…not from scratch, rather a fiddling under the hood, if you will. 😄

mental escape by succumbing to free enterprise

 

It has been a full year of drastic disturbance in routine and I have journeyed through a mental and spiritual vortex. Although my ordinary domestic life is undeniably a cause for gratitude, this cage of uncertainty has yet to show some promise of full emancipation. Technically, even without the pandemic, uncertainty is there but the magnitude of uncertainty is exacerbated by the pandemic. Add to that the opportunistic powers that be in certain parts of the world that have conveniently used the pandemic as justification for despotism.

What does a vignette-filtered selfie of my newly purchased chunky hoop earrings have anything to do with this post? Or this royalty free picture of a lipstick bullet...?

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite from Pexels

...I've been distracting myself with material womanly pursuits related to my upcoming transition to pre-mid-life (the big 4-0) this fall (a crisis). Not the unreasonably expensive kind of pursuits, of course...I have spawns to nurture. Related to that is my current self-directed crash course in 'modern womanhood' by Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamo from the famous Ru Paul's Drag Race. I have yet to see episodes of Ru Paul's Drag Race because I don't have a Hulu subscription (and Hulu does not exist in this country). I'm familiar with the show because a famous Filipina queen named Manila Luzon was a contestant in seasons past. I discovered Trixie and Katya via the show UNHhhh through the magic algorithmic suggestions of YouTube. I also began reading their book "Trixie and Katya's Guide to Modern Womanhood" and listening to their podcast "The Bald and the Beautiful".   I know it's Lent and it's probably not a good idea to regularly immerse my ears in unapologetic libidinous statements from drag queens--yet, the depth of their perspectives on the realities of life such as procrastination and being women in 2020--I'm hooked. I think my general fascination and admiration for drag queens stem from my innate yearning for the pinnacle of my self-confidence. Plus, the loud guffaws that emanate from my diaphragm caused by Trixie and Katya's combined wit feels good. Laughter is always great. Daily laughter is fantastic. 

In tying the images above with all this rambling: I now have three hoop earrings in small, medium, and chunky medium (those are not real size names...just to convince you of the distinction). I bought two red lip colors that I will only wear when I don't have a virtual meeting and when I don't have to see people who are not my husband or children (they were slightly uncomfortable when I tried it once *lol*). Not even to take a photo of myself with the aforementioned lip colors. That's a couple of minutes of applying precise red lip liner and lip color---to go down and do the dishes and work on the computer. Maybe drink cold brew with a reusable metal straw too. I don't care if you're literally 360-degrees-rolling-your-eyes right now with the ridiculousness of what I just divulged. I'm not harming anybody. And please, if you ask me...well, are your lipsticks cruelty-free? Don't ostracize me if the cheap brand lip colors I bought probably aren't cruelty-free. So I may have indirectly contributed to harming some living creature, even though it might be an insect. Fine. I'm ridiculous, out-of-touch, anxious, exhausted...I should probably go on a 'virtue signaling' streak---but that's becoming mainstream...*insert maniacal boisterous unladylike laugh*

Unleash the craziness out from the brain through the fingertips. *chef's kiss*

inspiration and the human condition

Picasso's Woman with Yellow Hair

Whatever emotional state we are in, searching for things that complement that state is an instinctual behavior. We search and listen to songs that further uplift us (if we are happy) or exacerbate our sadness.  Picture that scene on Bridget Jones's Diary where Bridget was lip syncing to Celine Dion's All by Myself or that Jesus Christ Superstar song that goes "look at all my trials and tribulations, sinking in a gentle pool of wine, don't disturb me now I can see the answers till this evening is this morning, life is fine..." Others express their reality through some form of art.  Whereas physical exertion is the usual culprit of exhaustion, an overworked amygdala (seat of emotions in the brain) may also result to fatigue. Wouldn't it be nice to be Spock for a day--absolute logic.  

I once posted about coping mechanisms including eating Nutella-dipped rippled potato chips...however, I find inspirational words  (a la Pinterest) to be the most effective. I read this specific passage from escrivaworks: "After losing those human consolations you have been left with a feeling of loneliness, as if you were suspended by a mere thread over the black emptiness of the abyss. And your cries, your shouts for help seem to be heard by nobody. You really deserve to be forlorn. Be humble, don't seek yourself don't seek consolation. Love the Cross -- to bear it is little -- and our Lord will hear your prayer. And calm will be restored to your senses. And your wounded heart will heal. And you will have peace."

So let's all watch "I'm walking on sunshine" and be happy. :)

Have patience and endure

Van Gogh's The Shepherdess

There are days when a poet speaks for you...like Maya Angelou:

"Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise.

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise.

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise.

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise.

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise."

I should probably eat rice. A lot of it right now.

Gratiam

In the Philippines, utang ng loob is obligatory.  When one receives a gift or favor from someone else, the beneficiary is obliged to either return the favor or be subservient to the benefactor. As in the case of a homeless person being given shelter by another.  In many circumstances, many people take advantage of this debt of gratitude by using it as a means of exploitation.  Examples include Cinderella, Sarah the Little Princess, or when someone owes someone else.  But I suppose the worst case would be child labor or any form of slavery.  Especially when it isn't the debtor who actually pays, but someone else in place of. 

I'm hoping to find rainbows-unicorns-we-all-live-in-a-yellow-submarine inspiration to erase all this melancholia. Darn it hormones.

How about we change the topic and appreciate the resemblance between Justin Trudeau and Prince Eric? Where's Sebastian the crab and his back up singers?