Regarding Angels
Do you believe in angels?
I do.
To me, an angel is someone (or even something) that is able to inspire me to do good deeds, to spread more love and happiness. Angels have come to me in the shape of a cat, a parent, a twin brother, a partner. They fuel me ahead, making me replace hatred with love. I've even found an angel in me, sleeping soundly but sweetly, emerging here and now to help other people, and of course, yours truly.
Angels are everywhere--in the air you breathe, in your heart, in your mind. Acknowledge them, and you'll be blessed and loved. They are the instruments of God, always ready to help. Protecting you from harm, from evil influences.
Angels are magical and elemental. So powerful that many times you won't be able to feel their power. They work through tender feelings and love, awakening awareness and loving thoughts.
I know well, because I'm carrying one for almost seven months now.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Another Visit to the Doctor
There I sat, looking confident and arrogant. While in fact I was feeling lonesome. Where was my partner? He did call a few minutes before, saying that he was stuck in a traffic jam.
The waiting room was full, as usual. All of the women there were accompanied by either their husbands or female friends. I was alone, in my black dress, stockings, and leather shoes. Waiting for my turn. Trying to ignore blatant looks from the others. Accusing looks that seemed to say, "Well, look at that girl. Pregnant already, and no husband! What a shame!"
I stared at them defiantly, as if to say, "So what?"
He came to my relief. Fortunately the others somehow lost their interest in me. "Oh. She got a husband. Or perhaps it's the lover. Ah well, who cares." They busied themselves doing another important thing--waiting.
Finally my name was called. Found out that I had gained 12 kilograms during my pregnancy. Starting to feel depressed and bloated.
But when I saw the doctor, she just looked at me critically then said, "Almost seven months, but you're still so small! You should gain more weight."
I wish I could faint then. Now, that would make a statement.
There I sat, looking confident and arrogant. While in fact I was feeling lonesome. Where was my partner? He did call a few minutes before, saying that he was stuck in a traffic jam.
The waiting room was full, as usual. All of the women there were accompanied by either their husbands or female friends. I was alone, in my black dress, stockings, and leather shoes. Waiting for my turn. Trying to ignore blatant looks from the others. Accusing looks that seemed to say, "Well, look at that girl. Pregnant already, and no husband! What a shame!"
I stared at them defiantly, as if to say, "So what?"
He came to my relief. Fortunately the others somehow lost their interest in me. "Oh. She got a husband. Or perhaps it's the lover. Ah well, who cares." They busied themselves doing another important thing--waiting.
Finally my name was called. Found out that I had gained 12 kilograms during my pregnancy. Starting to feel depressed and bloated.
But when I saw the doctor, she just looked at me critically then said, "Almost seven months, but you're still so small! You should gain more weight."
I wish I could faint then. Now, that would make a statement.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
The Beginning--Roi's Request
Where should I start? From the very beginning, I guess. I have always wanted to have a child. Come to think about it, I yearned for the responsibility of taking care of another / others. I have had millions of pets and pot plants (probably more). Some survived. Some died. Such is life.
Some say that I am a very motherly person. True, I like to mother others. I always consider myself as the mommy of my cats. I have several children among my fellow Animangans (human ones, by the way). I try to help them in any ways I can, whenever they ask for my support or advice.
However, when I knew that I was pregnant, I cried. I was afraid. I shared this fear and worry with my partner and my twin brother. My family and his didn't understand. They were ecstatic, especially my parents. This will be their first grandchild, after all. His brother even sent us an SMS:
"So! Turned out that you were able to do the right thing, bro!"
We didn't ask what he actually meant by that. But we could guess...
I was afraid because I thought I wasn't ready. Our original plan was to delay having children for a while, let's say, a year or two. We wanted to get used to living together first, do whatever we felt like doing without worrying about a baby.
The positive sign in the pregnancy test pack seemed to laugh at my fears. Lots of 'what ifs' got scattered to the winds as I returned to my senses.
It was then when I got excited in having a baby.
First Three Months
Long before I was pregnant, I vowed to crave for easily obtained things. Maybe like chocolate or Ramly's corn ice cream.
I had cravings to eat many kinds of food--Japanese, Chinese, Sundanese, Western, even Padangese. Then out of the blue I had this craving for KFC's oriental bento. It was quite hot, but I added more chili sauce. The result was predictable--I got sick. I threw up, feeling light-headed and weak.
Thankfully on the third month, I was able to eat normally again.
The Following Three Months
I ate ravenously. That was to be expected. I began to notice slight differences in my body. I couldn't wear my old bras. Too tight. Changed it to one and then two size bigger. My belly swelled, causing me to look like all those poor people suffering from malnutrition. I began to have depression. I asked questions like this to my loved ones: "Am I still beautiful?" or "Do you think I'll be slim again?"
Fortunately, they were honest. This is what they told me: "You are still beautiful!"
I felt relieved.
The Last Three Months
Haven't experienced that yet!
Where should I start? From the very beginning, I guess. I have always wanted to have a child. Come to think about it, I yearned for the responsibility of taking care of another / others. I have had millions of pets and pot plants (probably more). Some survived. Some died. Such is life.
Some say that I am a very motherly person. True, I like to mother others. I always consider myself as the mommy of my cats. I have several children among my fellow Animangans (human ones, by the way). I try to help them in any ways I can, whenever they ask for my support or advice.
However, when I knew that I was pregnant, I cried. I was afraid. I shared this fear and worry with my partner and my twin brother. My family and his didn't understand. They were ecstatic, especially my parents. This will be their first grandchild, after all. His brother even sent us an SMS:
"So! Turned out that you were able to do the right thing, bro!"
We didn't ask what he actually meant by that. But we could guess...
I was afraid because I thought I wasn't ready. Our original plan was to delay having children for a while, let's say, a year or two. We wanted to get used to living together first, do whatever we felt like doing without worrying about a baby.
The positive sign in the pregnancy test pack seemed to laugh at my fears. Lots of 'what ifs' got scattered to the winds as I returned to my senses.
It was then when I got excited in having a baby.
First Three Months
Long before I was pregnant, I vowed to crave for easily obtained things. Maybe like chocolate or Ramly's corn ice cream.
I had cravings to eat many kinds of food--Japanese, Chinese, Sundanese, Western, even Padangese. Then out of the blue I had this craving for KFC's oriental bento. It was quite hot, but I added more chili sauce. The result was predictable--I got sick. I threw up, feeling light-headed and weak.
Thankfully on the third month, I was able to eat normally again.
The Following Three Months
I ate ravenously. That was to be expected. I began to notice slight differences in my body. I couldn't wear my old bras. Too tight. Changed it to one and then two size bigger. My belly swelled, causing me to look like all those poor people suffering from malnutrition. I began to have depression. I asked questions like this to my loved ones: "Am I still beautiful?" or "Do you think I'll be slim again?"
Fortunately, they were honest. This is what they told me: "You are still beautiful!"
I felt relieved.
The Last Three Months
Haven't experienced that yet!
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Sylvia's Life and Mine
Watched Sylvia today on DVD. It was like reopening old wounds. The tragic story of Sylvia Plath was quite similar to mine. The despair she felt, the anguish, the anger and the need of solitude and silence (read: death). The bitter hurt she felt when her man cheated on her, favoring another who seemed fresh and beautiful. How her writing consoled her through difficult times. She poured her energy and feelings to her writings, making them immortal and powerful.
In the past, I too found hope and consolation in my writings. My poems were filled with rage, hatred, dark emotions and vengeful words. I was humiliated, stripped from my dreams and self-confidence. My eyes were dry, because the tears I shed coursed within my heart. I had to act as if nothing was wrong. Every morning I had to convince myself:
"See? The sun is still shining! The world didn't end when he shared his heart with another. I'm still breathing. I bleed inside, but I'm still alive."
I wish I could die of a broken heart. But it just wouldn't do. For if I died, what would it accomplish? Would the man I once loved dearly care, or even feel some kind of remorse? I didn't think he was capable of that. When he cheated, did he think of me? Did he care if that would hurt me? Whatever happened to old promises like, "I will never hurt you, Dear", "I'll always be with you" or "I'll take care of you forever"? Swallowed by time? Consumed by love for another?
Unlike Plath, I decided to live. To be happy.
I will never forget the sorrow I felt. But I have to admit, it does amount to something. For because of this incident, I am stronger now. And a lot happier, married to the man that I trust with my heart and soul.
I thought the pain in the past wouldn't matter. Not much, anyway. But watching Sylvia...
And guess who gave me the DVD?
Certainly not my loving, gentle partner.
Well, it's over. I've watched the movie, the damage is done. I cried over it, but there's nothing spectacular with that. I've always been a crybaby.
Plath, where ever you are now, I hope you are happy.
You deserve it.
And I hope Ted Hughes will rot permanently in Hell. (If he isn't now.)
Watched Sylvia today on DVD. It was like reopening old wounds. The tragic story of Sylvia Plath was quite similar to mine. The despair she felt, the anguish, the anger and the need of solitude and silence (read: death). The bitter hurt she felt when her man cheated on her, favoring another who seemed fresh and beautiful. How her writing consoled her through difficult times. She poured her energy and feelings to her writings, making them immortal and powerful.
In the past, I too found hope and consolation in my writings. My poems were filled with rage, hatred, dark emotions and vengeful words. I was humiliated, stripped from my dreams and self-confidence. My eyes were dry, because the tears I shed coursed within my heart. I had to act as if nothing was wrong. Every morning I had to convince myself:
"See? The sun is still shining! The world didn't end when he shared his heart with another. I'm still breathing. I bleed inside, but I'm still alive."
I wish I could die of a broken heart. But it just wouldn't do. For if I died, what would it accomplish? Would the man I once loved dearly care, or even feel some kind of remorse? I didn't think he was capable of that. When he cheated, did he think of me? Did he care if that would hurt me? Whatever happened to old promises like, "I will never hurt you, Dear", "I'll always be with you" or "I'll take care of you forever"? Swallowed by time? Consumed by love for another?
Unlike Plath, I decided to live. To be happy.
I will never forget the sorrow I felt. But I have to admit, it does amount to something. For because of this incident, I am stronger now. And a lot happier, married to the man that I trust with my heart and soul.
I thought the pain in the past wouldn't matter. Not much, anyway. But watching Sylvia...
And guess who gave me the DVD?
Certainly not my loving, gentle partner.
Well, it's over. I've watched the movie, the damage is done. I cried over it, but there's nothing spectacular with that. I've always been a crybaby.
Plath, where ever you are now, I hope you are happy.
You deserve it.
And I hope Ted Hughes will rot permanently in Hell. (If he isn't now.)
Friday, April 16, 2004
Restless Me
I'm actually afraid to be in front of Tanthalas (my PC, that is). Because once I'm here, I have this tendency to continue writing and writing and writing and..., you get the idea. I love writing, yet I know my body's limitation. I have to rest.
But if I decide to go to the bedroom to rest, a bundle of cloth always manages to tempt me. Sighing, I usually succumb to the temptation, sewing the cloth to form a baby's blanket. Or, a book I just received today, written by Terry Pratchett, entices me to at least admire it.
My mind is restless, thinking of many things at the same time.
Ah. Time to meditate again.
I'm actually afraid to be in front of Tanthalas (my PC, that is). Because once I'm here, I have this tendency to continue writing and writing and writing and..., you get the idea. I love writing, yet I know my body's limitation. I have to rest.
But if I decide to go to the bedroom to rest, a bundle of cloth always manages to tempt me. Sighing, I usually succumb to the temptation, sewing the cloth to form a baby's blanket. Or, a book I just received today, written by Terry Pratchett, entices me to at least admire it.
My mind is restless, thinking of many things at the same time.
Ah. Time to meditate again.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Pink Are for Girls, Blue Are for Boys
Oh, come on!
That would be my reaction. I've been perusing the children and baby's sections in several shopping centers for a while now. And it makes me sad to know that they all don't have many choices when it comes to colors. For newborn babies, the available colors are either white, yellow, occasional green, and the most famous of all: pink and blue.
Yes, yes, I know. Boys and girls have differences. But must we stress that ever since the moment they are born?
When my brothers and I were born, my father took pictures of us. They put me in a pink blanket, my brothers in blue. Perhaps it was done to simplify matters. I mean, as a visitor you don't need to come into the baby's room, open the clothes, to find out whether the baby is a girl or a boy.
It seems like a natural thing to ask. Normally, if you hear someone is having a baby, you'll have several questions in mind regarding:
1. the baby's gender.
2. the actual time of birth (day or night? What time? As if it really matters to all.)
3. its weight.
4. its height.
5. whether it was a normal or a caesarean delivery.
6. the condition of the baby and mother: are they okay?
7. (add your own questions here)
Back to the colors. It appears to me that any baby is doomed to wear certain colors. Who knows, maybe a baby's preference is black. But (s)he won't have a say in it. (S)he'd be stuck wearing either pink or blue (white, yellow, green) until (s)he has reached a certain age where (s)he is allowed to choose.
Who decided that girls should wear pink and boys blue, anyway? Why do some people believe that it is strictly forbidden for boys to wear pink? What if they happen to like the color?
I visited many places before I was able to buy a baby's suit in another color: purple. And for the heck of it, I also bought a pink suit.
Oh, come on!
That would be my reaction. I've been perusing the children and baby's sections in several shopping centers for a while now. And it makes me sad to know that they all don't have many choices when it comes to colors. For newborn babies, the available colors are either white, yellow, occasional green, and the most famous of all: pink and blue.
Saleslady: Is your baby a girl, Ma'am?The saleslady decided to leave me at this point. Wise move.
Me: It should be a boy. (So the USG said, I added silently.)
Saleslady: Then why are you holding pink clothes?
Me: Well, why not?
Saleslady: Boys ought to wear blue, you know.
Me: (amazed) And who says so?
Yes, yes, I know. Boys and girls have differences. But must we stress that ever since the moment they are born?
When my brothers and I were born, my father took pictures of us. They put me in a pink blanket, my brothers in blue. Perhaps it was done to simplify matters. I mean, as a visitor you don't need to come into the baby's room, open the clothes, to find out whether the baby is a girl or a boy.
It seems like a natural thing to ask. Normally, if you hear someone is having a baby, you'll have several questions in mind regarding:
1. the baby's gender.
2. the actual time of birth (day or night? What time? As if it really matters to all.)
3. its weight.
4. its height.
5. whether it was a normal or a caesarean delivery.
6. the condition of the baby and mother: are they okay?
7. (add your own questions here)
Back to the colors. It appears to me that any baby is doomed to wear certain colors. Who knows, maybe a baby's preference is black. But (s)he won't have a say in it. (S)he'd be stuck wearing either pink or blue (white, yellow, green) until (s)he has reached a certain age where (s)he is allowed to choose.
Who decided that girls should wear pink and boys blue, anyway? Why do some people believe that it is strictly forbidden for boys to wear pink? What if they happen to like the color?
I visited many places before I was able to buy a baby's suit in another color: purple. And for the heck of it, I also bought a pink suit.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Maternity Syndrome
I used to scoff at this so-called maternity syndrome. How often I encountered mothers, young and old alike, stating that whenever they went to the shopping center, their feet would automatically drag them to the children's section. That they'd spend more money and time for the sake of their children, sometimes neglecting their needs. I sneered. I jeered. At that time I thought that:
1. they were lying.
2. they were being overdramatic.
or
3. they were stupid.
Why stupid? Because they seemed to prioritize their children first. How silly, I thought. I made a vow that once I had children on my own, I'd still prioritize myself. I'd still buy things for me, me, and me, and take care of myself properly.
God's sense of humor is sometimes warped... yet I have no reasons to complain. Because I'm laughing at this moment.
For now I begin to understand. I spent quite a lot of money today, for baby's equipments. And they all looked so cuuuu~~uute! The socks, shirts, pants, blankets, etc. And I know that I am doomed. Every trip to the shopping center will involve me perusing the baby's section.
Is maternity syndrome hereditary? Or maybe infectious?
Now, that's a scary thought!
I used to scoff at this so-called maternity syndrome. How often I encountered mothers, young and old alike, stating that whenever they went to the shopping center, their feet would automatically drag them to the children's section. That they'd spend more money and time for the sake of their children, sometimes neglecting their needs. I sneered. I jeered. At that time I thought that:
1. they were lying.
2. they were being overdramatic.
or
3. they were stupid.
Why stupid? Because they seemed to prioritize their children first. How silly, I thought. I made a vow that once I had children on my own, I'd still prioritize myself. I'd still buy things for me, me, and me, and take care of myself properly.
God's sense of humor is sometimes warped... yet I have no reasons to complain. Because I'm laughing at this moment.
For now I begin to understand. I spent quite a lot of money today, for baby's equipments. And they all looked so cuuuu~~uute! The socks, shirts, pants, blankets, etc. And I know that I am doomed. Every trip to the shopping center will involve me perusing the baby's section.
Is maternity syndrome hereditary? Or maybe infectious?
Now, that's a scary thought!
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
Women, Men, Why Stress on the Differences?
I was raised in a family that believe in improbable things. When I was a child, I believed that girls and boys were essentially the same. I thought girls and boys were equals. I still do, even though many people seem to shake this faith of mine.
It depends on the power of the individual. A girl can be smarter than a boy, and vice versa. My family does not really believe in stereotypes and cliches. Like, boys aren't supposed to cry. Girls are more emotional and not dependable. Boys are stronger mentally and physically. Loads and loads of nonsense that have been pumped into our society for eons. Things that, unfortunately, many people seem to believe.
When I was in junior high school, there was an extra class called Electronics. You could choose to take this class or another one, which was Book-Keeping or some sort (can't really remember). I was more interested in Electronics--the gadgets fascinated me. Turned out that the teacher was a chauvinist pig. He blatantly told us that girls weren't supposed to excel in this subject, saying that every person--especially a girl, had a limitation. Arrogantly he thought he could judge how intelligent a student was. Once I got nine in a test. He lowered the grade to eight, saying that other boys who were supposed to be smarter than I was (or so he thought) got 8.5. It was ridiculously unfair.
On practical tests, I usually managed to outdo the others. Several other girls also excelled in this subject. Yet he always gave better grades to boys.
In my opinion, teachers like him ought to be branded and flogged! Even until now, I still feel remnants of anger. I've been a teacher myself. And I disagree strongly with him. A teacher should encourage the students to move forward. Not chain them with an invisible shackle called gender.
I can say that he is a victim of social conditioning. Realize it or not, it works. Even now.
I wonder. Why do people tend to stress on the differences instead of the similarities between women and men? Many times I read articles and jokes that stress on the differences. Maybe some people find this funny. I don't.
How many times I find people saying that women and men are equals.
I wonder if they really believe in it.
I was raised in a family that believe in improbable things. When I was a child, I believed that girls and boys were essentially the same. I thought girls and boys were equals. I still do, even though many people seem to shake this faith of mine.
It depends on the power of the individual. A girl can be smarter than a boy, and vice versa. My family does not really believe in stereotypes and cliches. Like, boys aren't supposed to cry. Girls are more emotional and not dependable. Boys are stronger mentally and physically. Loads and loads of nonsense that have been pumped into our society for eons. Things that, unfortunately, many people seem to believe.
When I was in junior high school, there was an extra class called Electronics. You could choose to take this class or another one, which was Book-Keeping or some sort (can't really remember). I was more interested in Electronics--the gadgets fascinated me. Turned out that the teacher was a chauvinist pig. He blatantly told us that girls weren't supposed to excel in this subject, saying that every person--especially a girl, had a limitation. Arrogantly he thought he could judge how intelligent a student was. Once I got nine in a test. He lowered the grade to eight, saying that other boys who were supposed to be smarter than I was (or so he thought) got 8.5. It was ridiculously unfair.
On practical tests, I usually managed to outdo the others. Several other girls also excelled in this subject. Yet he always gave better grades to boys.
In my opinion, teachers like him ought to be branded and flogged! Even until now, I still feel remnants of anger. I've been a teacher myself. And I disagree strongly with him. A teacher should encourage the students to move forward. Not chain them with an invisible shackle called gender.
I can say that he is a victim of social conditioning. Realize it or not, it works. Even now.
I wonder. Why do people tend to stress on the differences instead of the similarities between women and men? Many times I read articles and jokes that stress on the differences. Maybe some people find this funny. I don't.
How many times I find people saying that women and men are equals.
I wonder if they really believe in it.
Monday, April 05, 2004
General Election
I wish... every day is general election day. So I can laze around, sleep, play computer games and do whatever I feel like doing, with him next to me.
Yes, even a lazyhead needs excuses to be lazy...
I wish... every day is general election day. So I can laze around, sleep, play computer games and do whatever I feel like doing, with him next to me.
Yes, even a lazyhead needs excuses to be lazy...
Thursday, April 01, 2004
The Encounter with an ATM
There is this situation. You want to pay your bills and get some cash. You spot an ATM nearby. Aha, what a coincidence. It's even empty! So you saunter towards the machine, pressing the necessary buttons to execute your demands.
Then the ATM is stuck.
You bite your lower lip, trying again. It works. You breathe in relief. But somehow you press the wrong buttons. You try again. And again.
You feel panic is starting to take over. Stifling it, you manage to do a transaction. Two more to go. Two more errors. You begin to swear under your breath.
You realize that this is taking too much time. What do you do, then? You have several options.
a. Abort the transaction. Leave immediately. You can find another ATM later after you've calmed down.
b. Grit your teeth and try again, no matter how long it takes. It's an ego thing.
c. Burst into tears and ask for help.
What will you choose? I chose the option b. It took a couple of minutes (maybe more) but finally I got everything done. When I left I just realized that a bunch of people were queueing behind me. They threw nasty looks at me, the evil eye thing. I had already shielded myself so I wasn't affected. I hummed a song, walking happily. The negative vibes they sent affected themselves. People who are annoyed just loathe to see other people being happy.
Yes, that time I was feeling selfish. I have to admit, it felt great.
There is this situation. You want to pay your bills and get some cash. You spot an ATM nearby. Aha, what a coincidence. It's even empty! So you saunter towards the machine, pressing the necessary buttons to execute your demands.
Then the ATM is stuck.
You bite your lower lip, trying again. It works. You breathe in relief. But somehow you press the wrong buttons. You try again. And again.
You feel panic is starting to take over. Stifling it, you manage to do a transaction. Two more to go. Two more errors. You begin to swear under your breath.
You realize that this is taking too much time. What do you do, then? You have several options.
a. Abort the transaction. Leave immediately. You can find another ATM later after you've calmed down.
b. Grit your teeth and try again, no matter how long it takes. It's an ego thing.
c. Burst into tears and ask for help.
What will you choose? I chose the option b. It took a couple of minutes (maybe more) but finally I got everything done. When I left I just realized that a bunch of people were queueing behind me. They threw nasty looks at me, the evil eye thing. I had already shielded myself so I wasn't affected. I hummed a song, walking happily. The negative vibes they sent affected themselves. People who are annoyed just loathe to see other people being happy.
Yes, that time I was feeling selfish. I have to admit, it felt great.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)