Serene and ephemeral as a little smiling sunshine

As quietly as the hummingbird came to visit for a drink, the fog slowly rolled in and transformed the view into mysterious scenery.

Soon the fog enveloped the whole city and only the reflection of the sun is glistening from the windows of the tall building.

ephemeral (40)The ephemeral nature of fog, lasted for half an hour as it quickly descended, it evaporated when the sun suddenly starts to appear.

This ephemeral moments are precious that will remain in my memory for a lifetime.


The Hidden Meaning of My Name

Question MarkMost Filipino’s first name is Maria. Thank goodness we have second name and that is what I go by: Perpetua. I like it since it’s unique.

With an aide of this this site, there’s more meaning to my name. It’s so much fun. Try it here and do share the meaning of your name in the comment box. Have fun! :D

This is the meaning of my name and I am blushing.

You are influential and persuasive.
You tend to have a lot of power over people.
Generally, you use your powers for good.
You excel at solving other people’s problems.

You are friendly, charming, and warm.
You get along with almost everyone.
You work hard not to rock the boat.
You are easy-going attitude brings people together.

You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel.
You’re always up to something.
You’re very intense.
You definitely are a handful, and you’re likely to get in trouble.
But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun.

You are a seeker.
You have a lot of questions about life.
You tend to travel often, to fairly random locations.
You’re most comfortable when you’re far away from home.
You are quite passionate and easily tempted.
Your impulses sometimes get you into trouble.

You are a very lucky person.
You just hope for the best in life.
You’re sometimes a little guilty of being greedy.

Quiz source: 

If I were to remove myself from Facebook, would anyone notice that I was gone?

Social Media

I used to get phone calls all the time and talk forever
I would pride myself as a conversationalist
I still am.

Phone conversations are now limited to volunteer work
Without them there would be none
Calling the older generation to keep in touch
But not the younger ones
Because I don’t know how to hold a conversation through texting.

The world of social networking has taken over the art of conversation
Texting has taken over the original use of what a phone does
I often wonder if I were to call someone if they would recognize my voice
If I were to remove myself from the world of Facebook
Would anyone even notice I was gone?

If they are my Facebook friends
Would they know how to reach me
Call me at work or at home
Find out how I was doing?

You think they would, most likely they don’t
So who deems worthy of being your “friend” on Facebook
If they don’t even know how to get a hold of me aside from FB?

So in retrospect, am I worthy?

I have to move with the times of social networking
Facebook is a great place for it
To find out and ‘know’ what is going on with family and friends.

Who got married? Who graduated? Who’s who?
Who’s going on vacation to where? Who got a new job?
Who had a baby? Who is sick? Who just died?
Who needs a prayer? Who said the prayer?

But when I think about it, how did I ever manage to do it before?

So much has changed
I truly miss having what I had before
I want to see you in person. I want to touch you. I want to hear your voice.
I want to receive a hug. I want to give you a hug. I want a good laugh until it hurts.
I want to see you smile, I want to see you cry. I miss my friends, I miss my family.
I miss human interactions.

Facebook fills a void
It’s sad that I cannot reach through the screen
I am grateful for modern technology
It’s thrilling to have instant gratification
But I keep going back the time when the phone rings
And it’s not someone soliciting
A friend calling “Hey! What’s up? I’ve been thinking about you.”

Facebook is like a room full of people
Everyone is talking, no one is listening
Full of selfies, look at me, you really like me
I’m tired of all the likes
I don’t like to be like anymore
I’m tired of those emoticons.

So I left Facebook. Nobody noticed that I was gone.

Image source: Anonymous Art of Revolution via Carolinafrica

Wretched Writers Welcome

I am changing 3Ps to 3Ws (Wretched Writers Welcome) by joining Bulwer-Lytton since I am not much of a writer because English is my second language. In this site, maybe I might win the Dishonorable Mention Award should I join their contest. Hey, at least it’s a winning instead of dreaming the impossible dream of being Freshly Pressed.

This is not just for me. It’s for you, too. Yes! You! You have until April 15 to join.

It’s really quite easy. All you have to do is write bad convoluted sentence. Here’s a sample from Linda Vernon and she was the 1990 winner.

linda vernon 1990 winner

Why is English hard for Filipinos. These are some of the reasons:

  1. We think in Filipino (whatever dialect we speak) then translate it in English.
  2. Grammar. It does not exist.
  3. Our sentences are short with long words. Think about that!
  4. We have weird wacky sense of humor.
  5. We tend to repeat ourselves. We tend to repeat ourselves.
  6. There is no pronoun in our language. No her, no she, no he, no him. We are all ‘it’.
  7. We are direct to the point. No beating around the bush.
  8. Vocabulary is poor because we can’t find a Filipino-English dictionary to help translate the word to proper terminology. Google is useless.
  9. We have more than 100 dialects, therefore, no such thing as Tagalog language. We call it Tag-lish: combination of Tagalog and English. Or Span-log; combination of Spanish and Tagalog.
  10. We speak with our hands, eyes, eyebrows, nose, lips and all that facial expressions.

I could go on but I must focus how I can beat Linda. Or maybe you can.

A dream: losing myself in another possibility

A Dream

A Person of Limited Palette
I would love to have lived out my years
in a cottage a few blocks from the sea,
and to have spent my mornings painting
out in the cold, wet rocks, to be known
as “a local artist,” a pleasant old man
who “paints passably well, in a traditional
manner,” though a person of limited
talent, of limited palette: earth tones
and predictable blues, snap-brim cloth cap
and cardigan, baggy old trousers
and comfortable shoes, but none of this
shall come to pass, for every day
the possibilities grow fewer, like swallows
in autumn. If you should come looking
for me, you’ll find me here, in Nebraska,
thirty miles south of the broad Platte River,
right under the flyway of dreams.

“A Person of Limited Palette” by Ted Kooser from Splitting an Order
Posts by David Lose

Photo of A Dream acrylic on canvass by Chris Langstroth