why do you care?

(can married men lounge this relaxed and happy? lol!)

When you start hitting the big 3 and people don't see you wearing that bright and polished round thing around your ring finger, they tend to be overly concerned suddenly. Try going to your cousin's wedding and every one on the guest list will ask you the most important question of all - why are you still single, or josh the biggest tease of all time - uuyy, you will already be next! - that gets me sort of vexed all the time.

Can I cringe here already? 

You gotta believe that I am all for marriage. If two people are madly in love with each other and cannot figure their lives apart from one another, then by all means, file for a licence and go to pre-cana. But don't get me wrong: this thing is just not on top of my concerns now. Or I simply cannot do so by now because I still don't have anybody who can splay the colors and hues in my blank canvas. I just cannot marry myself, right?

I just can't seem to get why it is a matter of great distress to other people that I am actually happy and content being uncommitted right now. You see, there's a time element here - the "right now", because I'm still pretty hopeful that somebody might just turn up and turn my world upside down that will make me decide: enough of solitary bliss. Fine if cousin # 1's son will already start going to prep school in June, but it should not be your worry if my firstborn will still be in high school by the time I become the balding retiree. 

I'm happy for my ka-berks who look happy on their pre-nup and wedding photos on Facebook and wish them to sport the same smile while they are well into the married existence. I post comments how their kids look like miniatures of them. But I am also happy planning for a trip in November or saving for a DSLR to pursue the illusion that I can make art, and that I am unsurprisingly, and not abnormally content with my current state of affairs. If I may, I just think being single is way too cool because: 

You don’t fill your brain with dates (birthday, anniversary and the whole nine yards) and other details like favorites (argh!), of which the failure to recall can spark another world war; 

You don’t fight with yourself what to order for dinner - if you want baby back ribs, you get baby back ribs - and not feel guilty about gorging all the fats. You also get to save money since you spend for a single diner only;

You get to watch the movie you wanted to watch and don’t have to drag yourself watching John Lloyd and Sarah Geronimo;

You only have yourself to say if your shirt looks okay or not, or if you already need shaving or not;

You can be lazy and disgusting without anybody making that look all too bad;

You get to hang out with other people and not worry someone will get jealous. You can go to dates with anybody you want and the only regret you will have is not being able to flirt with more people than you should (you sure did not think that was me whining, eh?);

You own your time and you are your own boss (ok, ok. The boss is in the office) and you can go to places you wanted to go to any time you wanted to;

There will  be lesser stress that you have to endure and hence, I am just trying to enjoy bucket loads of freedom while they last. 

There are actually more reasons than what that video goes to list but still, the question and the tease. 

I will be going to another wedding yet again and I am trying to figure a retort that's more polite than - why do you care? You might just have the cleverest phrase. 

quo vadis, cocinero?

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In April of 2011, I took a leap of faith. At that time, I was unsure if the decision to take on a new role and steer my career to a different direction was the rightest thing to do. It wasn’t the sort of plainly testing the waters. I usually start a year getting jitters, the sort that wants me to pack and go into the wild, but there’s a tiny something somewhere at the back of my mind that said “go!” - a certain stirring that I will probably understand at some distant future. I am not entirely the submissive type. I tried pushing walls for want of greater space and bigger horizon but if some things are simply not just meant to be, nothing will come out of your pushing. And so that tiny voice won me over.

I thought I packed enough of confidence and courage when I decided to don another garb and wander in another field. I miscalculated my perseverance levels that at one point I thought of throwing in the towel. But I had no contingency plan in place. I tried pushing walls again but still nothing came out of the shove. Then, that tiny voice was there again – “just keep on”. 

If I overestimated my ability to persist, I certainly underrated the power of love of those who supported in me in my decision to sail outside of my comfort zone. It was not at all a tiny voice of inspiration that kept telling me that everything will be alright while reassuring me that they will still be standing behind if I choose to pull the sails down.

Two years later, some will say that I finally found my place under the sun. Maybe, but I am more gratified by the realization that a path has been set for me, that I have the littlest understanding of the plans laid out by the Hand in the grand scheme of things and so I just need to let that Hand do the pushing of walls.

Some call it birthing pains. Others will say that one has to be put through fire to come out shining like gold. These pains that we go through in every change that we need to endure are necessary steps for the masterpiece in progress that is us. I still recall a professor’s reminder that adversity brings out character. Sometimes, I even grin when I remember that I came close to giving up when I haven’t even seen the bigger picture yet. Those pains, had they really been such a big deal?     

I still cannot say that I already found my end of the rainbow. Life is ever a journey and this jittery pair of shoes will not just stay in one place yet. But I'm glad I took that leap. It pays to listen to a tiny voice sometimes.

must-watch movies - part 1

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Movies are my favorite past time. Whenever I needed reprieve from the mayhem of a cubicle or just in the mood for lazing, I ring friends’ numbers and ask them about what movies to watch before the earth swallows me whole. I always get good recommendations and many I suggest to other friends too. Good movies are too precious not to get the popular viewing that they deserve. These are my top picks of flicks that are worth a good 90 minutes or so of your time (and would still want a second or third viewing despite anything that Rotten Tomatoes has to say). While my picks may not cause a stir in you (you, spoilers!), I would like to make an unsolicited endorsement just the same. Recommendations are welcome. And loads of porcorn, too.

(While movie-makers will continue to make good films, I'll be adding to this list from time to time. Just saying.)

Legends of the Fall. This Anthony Hopkins and Brad Pitt starrer is a sweeping family saga at the backdrop of tragic romance to an epic scale. Good, just good. 

Big Fish.  A gripping glance at father and son relationships. This is currently one in my top 5. Yeah, I can be that sucker for these dramas.

Finding Neverland. A depiction of JM Barrie’s inspiration for creating the classic Peter Pan tale. Johnny Depp is a well-liked actor too.  

Casablanca. Personal top pick for a romantic flick. Just watch it. Undoubtedly an immortal.  

Bridges of Madison County. A song has this line for its lyrics: it’s sad to belong to someone else when the right one comes along. This is pretty much about it. Makes you think. Love indeed has a greater meaning. 

Three Idiots. A story about friendship that will stand through time. Anybody would want that, eh. Got me chanting “all is well!” for a while.

The Lion King. My very first favorite animated movie. A rich storytelling that is highly relatable. This will be loved by both young and old, father and son. Hakuna matata somehow became a personal mantra.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. A charming melancholy you wouldn’t want to erase from your silver screen experience. We’ll that’s just me talking.

Into the Wild. An inspiring, haunting odyssey to self-discovery. This non-fiction’s poignant end elicits both comfort and conflict.

Sideways. Funny and moving and surely not about wines. It will stir you sideways.

The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises. Probably, the two best Batman movies of all time. The fact that Christopher Nolan created both poses no further skepticism. A smart story-telling and way above being just comic-book movies.

In the Mood for Love. This Wong Kar-Wai classic is a gripping tale of suppressed longing. Gets you into the mood for love with its unique visual rendering.

Little Miss Sunshine. A moving, unpredictable comedy makes you revisit that inherent desire to win.  In the end, it will win you over to better yourself.

In Bruges. A surprising gangster film that reinforces your belief in change and second chances. Colin Farrell's comedy is a revelation.

Amelie. The poster says Amelie will change your life and it will. An illuminating movie bliss that says fantasy may just come to life. A delightful comedy. 

Chocolat. A light drama about defying conventions. Chocolat is just so sinfully delicious you cannot resist.

Fight Club. First rule: Don't talk about fight club. Second rule: Don't talk about fight club. So, let's just start reeling. A classic. Soap, anyone?

The Departed. Violent, exciting crime thriller that will not depart from you for a while.

Life is Beautiful. Life is beautiful and this movie is, too. Both poignant and sweet.

Pan’s Labyrinth. A smorgasbord of a film. Fairy tale plus drama plus conflict and violence plus myth and magic. Not a movie for kids but a sure great watch.

(500) Days of Summer. A clever and zany romantic story. Sweet and endearing, I have 500 days to fall in love.

Up. Masterful and full of life, Up will carry you to that direction. A lovely love story you’d want to share to your children and grandchildren. Oh-uh.

The Royal Tenenbaums. A quirky comedy about disappointment that never disappoints. Delightful and offbeat to a certain degree.

Children of Men. A futuristic thriller about man's struggle to recoup its ability to procreate. Disturbing and riveting both in the same way. What if...

The Shawshank Redemption. A prison drama which is a compelling testament to hope and human spirit. A moving, redeeming delight.

Cinema Paradiso. A nostalgic film about friendship and love. It felt like Dead Stars turned into a movie. 

Lost in Translation. A light tale about coming into terms with disillusionment and dealing with dilemma. Warm and dreamy and funny.

Almost Famous. An engaging tale of director Cameron Crowe’s experience as a rock journalist. A very endearing film I wanted to jump right into a bus after watching this. Well, almost.

The Way Back. This movie, which was inspired by real events is an epic story of endurance and will. Uplifting.

More coming soon.

(The photos are not mine, obviously.)

letter to my 16-year old self

I was skimming through a friend's blog, and stumbled upon a post the idea of which was inspiration to this entry. Mine's a a tad serious, but this is as close as I can get to writing to my 16-year old self.

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April 7, 2013

Skinny under-cut,

Hurrah! I can see you pounding that frail chest for getting that haircut like your gang. You are one of them now. Darn, it was hip to be shaven underneath that bob. For once, you were not afraid of Mamang’s scolding for looking like an “adik-adik” although your gaunt frame can already be mistaken for one. You will be getting off high school and it would be great to look “cool” in your class photos. You wouldn’t want to be that odd one out. After all, that day will be your day, your favorite teacher would say teary-eyed. First advice: don’t be so touchy. You ought to look tough. You should swag that hairstyle to character.  

After the bravados have calmed down, you will worry but still hope that by sheer miracle, you can go to college. That will not come unfounded and you will feel down. Reel on it a bit. You will ask high heavens why you and your family, of all people, were made to endure these strains. But do not wallow in self-pity. I know it’s easier said than done and that not too many people will understand. Second advice:  do not indulge in too much despair and discouragement. Not going to college like the rest of your class is not the end of the world. Gather yourself up and gear up for battle. If life is a battle for survival, start doing 50 push ups tomorrow morning. Just kidding. Read books, do the chores, cultivate your backyard, open a sari-sari store – just do something worthwhile. You will learn a lot that you never will at any university.

I know you’d still want to be an architect, or an engineer, or an accountant. You might even heed your uncle’s advice and be a teacher instead. Use your time to pick one course. Third advice: weave a dream even if you will do so while on top of a sampalok tree watching over your flock of ducks or atop the carabao while herding it. Be grand with your dreams, it’s the freest thing to do. Do not lose hope that dreaming is all that life can ever give you. Maybe one day, all the universe will conspire to get you that desire.  

Be intent that one day the gods will hear your prayers and you will go to a university. Ain’t that great? That university! You will meet a lot of great people there and some will become your greatest friends. You’ll find the best teachers not only in class but in life’s lessons too. Life will not be easy, money can barely cover the essentials, but trust that when the universe conspires, you will get a P100 loan from a classmate, which can put you through a week. Again, do not lament. Take pride in the thought that God gives His toughest battles to His bravest soldiers. You are not one lame duck.

Do not be too stiff and uptight. I know the going gets tough often but do not think that you carry all the burdens of the world to not have fun. Life is not always a struggle - remember that. Fourth advice: enjoy your youth. Goof around, party even a little – just don’t do drugs. Street-smart is a lot cool so learn the ways of the street. But always remember that “smart” is part of the adjective. Send that love letter, laugh hard, learn the guitar and sing your heart out. Compose poetry. Join organizations and meet a lot of friends. Just have some fun.

You will go through tests on and off campus. The grades that the teachers will give you may matter but it will be the trials which will measure the strength of your character that will build and define you. Do the right things the right way. You will make mistakes but do not commit the deliberate ones. Fifth advice: there are no short cuts in this life. You wouldn’t want one fault or two to haunt you for a long time. Regret is not a very good company and guilt will not let you sleep sometimes. It’s true that we will hold on to the lessons more dearly if these were learned the hard way, but try to avoid this pain as much as you can. You don’t want to coil with this extra baggage. Be practical but do not be foolhardy or just plain rash.

Do not shed off your sense of family. They will be the closest network of persons who will stick with you through thick and thin. Do not be too hard on yourself but keep in mind that you are “kuya”. Remember that Mamang has to rest one day from pulling the odds to make both ends meet, and just enjoy the beach or the casino. Or just wherever she wishes to be that will make her happy. She greatly deserves that. 

When things seem to get hopeless and out of meaning, which they sometimes will, remember that there is a greater force that puts everything in its proper order and place – bumps, cliffs, thunders, snakes, thorny bushes and all. Just look up for directions.   

This is getting long and I might already be getting to your nerves. Okay, okay. You already know these things, but a gentle reminder won’t hurt sometimes. These will do for now. But if you don’t follow some of the things I say (I know you can be stubborn sometimes), I will shrug the blame off you. But I hope you will take me seriously.

Come on, you will do just fine. So no worries, okay?

Future you,

Skinny-still but clean cut

P.S. I was just trying not to dampen your high spirits when I let you have your swag with your haircut. But trust me, you wouldn’t want to see that photo ever again with that under-cut that looks neither cute nor hip. It is awful and nasty you’d want to burn that print into ashes. Maybe, this is just the spoiler in me. And o, do not be so anxious about working at Zamboanga’s canneries just so you wouldn’t be a bum. Who knows you’d even be hobnobbing with the proprietors one day soon. So for now, it’s time to give that carabao a “HOO!!!”

closure

(This is an old piece from more than a couple of years ago. Still hoping against hope, I never got around the courage to publish. I guess it's time to take that step forward and stand by what I decided to name this piece.)

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I told myself not to put this thing down until it’s clearly and finally over. I’ve always known to hold on tight until the end of the line, that I either wait and make up for my late entrance or continue chasing that butterfly until it finally lands on my palm. I believe I was perseverance personified - I persist in my pursuits. But it’s different this time, and I realized, when it comes to things that we feel inside, some of our perspectives shift.

Pinker was the last indulgence of my late bloom. At one point, the idea of her was the summation of everything that I’ll ever look for in a relationship. She was that one thing that got me planning and thinking hard about the days to come. I have known a few who were pretty and smart and fun while God-fearing, but her entire wrap was simply a glow above the rest.

We were formally introduced nearly two years ago although I had her number much earlier than that, thanks to a mutual friend who insisted I start communicating with her, which I nonchalantly replied yes. I never did. I was eyeing an old acquaintance who I haven’t had communication with for a long time, and whose episode with me, later I will find out, will be short-lived. Later I knew, the same friend told, that Pinker was also already with someone else.

I was trying to get my faith founded when I had the chance to meet her again. I had nonchalance still since that was only a few months after that short-lived romance. And she was still with that somebody. I became active in my service, squeezing time between work and church and going home and spending time with new-found acquaintances. It counted months and I was finally living my life. Then one time, an elder in the community much like a mother to me, gave me her number, which like the first instance, I half-heartedly said yes but also never used. She was free this time but I haven’t had the urge to chase again then.

Finally one time, I happened to ask about a scheduled out-of-town community congress which I wanted to attend. I can’t recall why it had been her when I could have easily asked one of our elders. All I can conjure up now was that I learned about the congress through her announcement. It ended up me not attending the congress but it would be the start of exchanging little niceties with her.

Those little niceties began to build up. Oddly, I'd feel discomfited during our next meetings. Where it had been easy to cuddle a conversation before, I found myself grappling on how to start one. That was when I felt a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and heard a band of thunderbolts through my ears. Torpedoes hit me hard on the spine which all the way cramped me to my tongue.

Shortly, I knew I was not singularly hit by her lightning. Reckoning, I placed that I was last in line but I continued to set my pace still, surprisingly, doing things I never did and never thought I would. Then I realized, my pace had been, pardon my French, too damn slow.

Then the communication stopped when I learned that she finally made her choice. I don’t intend to delve any deeper into this. Saying she made the right one will be self-incriminating. But what I had for her bordered on deep respect and from what little I knew, she picked up the good man that she deserved.

I tell those I confide with that acceptance had been easy. I guess, that too, was half-hearted. It was harder than I thought when it hit me at point-blank. The last conference had been especially trying but I excelled in letting it stream unnoticed.

To break free, I joined another community. I continued meeting other acquaintances but none could keep up to the manner and measure of what I had and held for her. The same elder told me in one instance that God is still cooking up something for me, that He gives only what we deserve and that is only the best. I said I’m no longer looking, I screwed up my chance to take on my best. I cling to what she said last – I should be thankful for the feeling and the experience. I add, I should be thankful for the time she decided to spend with me and for keeping up with me on some late nights although I would not have been the best reason for keeping her awake. I assure her, with the sincerity of my intentions, that those nights got me looking forward to the new day.

A friend recently e-mailed me Mark Macapagal’s article in The Manila Times which talked so aptly about timing. No amount of preparation nor intensity of feeling could bring you that one desire if it’s not the time. I get the idea.

I stopped arguing with myself if I should put this thing down. I already stopped thinking about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. The load of these questions are getting heavy and it is time to put it off. Pain is too strong an emotion for me now.

Recently, I incidentally chanced with her again, which by some twisted stroke of chance, the second during that week (I’ve been trying to avoid a meeting - more for myself, but I guess a little for her too. But it’s a real small place we’re both in). Yet it helps unknowingly. It had been nice having to talk to her again even if the talk was way beyond the concerns and borders of feelings. I swear I still felt the thumping of thunderbolts but I knew the swarm of butterflies were already cramming somewhere else, not that I’ve driven them away. From what I gathered, she is very happy. I should be happy for her too for I’ve been praying for that since.

I realized then that  there’s one thing that I should do – pray for my happiness too. And maybe tomorrow, with this published, I’ll start changing passwords.

the father's day club

The idea came nonchalantly during that SSS (Say Something Substantial) prologue during my freshman religious studies course. One by one, all forty one of us stood in front of the class, our feet fixated on a one square foot marking the professor drew on the floor, intently warning not to let loose of a toe outside, and decanted fragments of ourselves to people who were merely strangers back then. One by one, the stories poured out and I found myself listening to some narrations that were as if mine, as I understood the chronicling which climaxed to that all too familiar throb and longing.

I lost my father when I was nine. He was the former chief of the local police when he was gunned down by a perpetrator still unknown to us until now.

As the sole breadwinner for a family of six children, the cupboard was turned upside down after he was gone. Difficult may not have been an exaggeration of the life we went through without Papang. I will not want another retelling.

During the course of that SSS, I came to know other classmates whose stories were closely allied with mine. We were four in the class. We met another one year the after although her story was a bit different from us while the sentiment was the same. I hope they would forgive my lack of authority to recount these fragments which my memory can conjure now:

Z's father died by accident; a land mine was detonated on the plantation he was working at. H's and R's succumbed to illness. T's is a complex storyline and I digress to even set a backdrop. Z, H, T and I became good friends, but then again, all in that class had been. But I suppose, we understood each other better because of that nexus that linked us. We exchanged stories about how things were when our fathers were still around (all of us lost our fathers when we were young). We smiled at bittersweet memories but the tears we left to dry on that SSS floor. I know that we were made different by our circumstances and losing our fathers early in our lives etched some sense of maturity early on in our minds. Although I know that those experiences fortified us, there are still times that we needed some ounces of strength that we know we could have gotten so easily from a father's love and encouragement. These times often hit a raw nerve. But we get to live by the strength of the love from the people who were left and given to us.

These experiences also made us more bonded with our Mamangs or Mamas. On several occasions, we talked of our wishes and plans, not only for ourselves but for our mothers, the only parent left to us who also took on the uneasy task of fathering. But I will devote another write-up for that. Too bad, a get-together with our mothers still did not happen but someday I hope it will.

Over the years, the paths of life have brought us to our spots under the sun. We seldom see each other, although some, I often do on a social networking site. We still struggle with other battles that life throw at us, but I know the lessons learned and stength gained from our experiences plus the love and guidance of our fathers, wherever they are, will pull us through.

When I joined a Catholic community, I met many others who share the same story. In my previous cell group, I used to have four brothers who tell the same tale of throb and longing. I know at one point or another, everyone will join us in this club. When that time comes, I know you can always come to us to shed some of the pain and we will not mind. We shed some of those many times ago. But for now, I'd say, hug your father tight while he can still hug you back. For when the time comes, all you can do is wish even for a short moment when you still can.

To all fathers out there, whether we see you or not, Happy Father's Day.

sidestepping the bucket

I am not about to make a review. The film was released sometime in 2007 and attempting to make one is already three years late at the very least. I am one of the late catchers of the movie (pardon me, but I have just seen Good Will Hunting) and since I'm a real sucker for melodramas (for one, Big Fish is now my favorite film), watching this flick somehow touched a raw vein.

What would you do if you only have three months to live? What would you do differently knowing that your hours are counted, your lease at life reaching termination?

The questions dawned on me as soon as John Mayer started blaring in the background. Suggestions like suddenly becoming benevolent and virtuous would be feigned responses and I'm afraid I'd be damned all the more.
There will always be that part that will tell you to start acting a little kinder and be a little bit more pious and it's perfectly okay. But if trying to earn a fast track access to the golden gate gives the reason to that action and not the drive to do good because it's something that I haven't tried and should do, then it only beats the crap out of me.

I'm the gravely-ill Carter (Morgan Freeman) now and since I probably won't meet an Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson) in my sickbay, I can only do things that are well within my measures: no exhilarating skydives and jet-setting voyage around the world. Not exactly around the world like around the world but a French villa, the Egyptian pyramids, an African safari, the Taj Mahal, the Tibetan alps (was that Tibet?) and the Hongkong skylines is pretty much it. But I'm more than sure that there'll be the drama. And no less potent.

Here's probably what I would do on a more pragmatic and palpable sense:

First, I'd finish my pending credit recommendations and file for an indefinite leave. This will take me a couple of weeks most probably plus the goodbyes. Seven years of your life is still seven years. Never mind that it's been less than perfect, but when you breathe the same puffs of the air-con machine and smell the same dead-rat stink, people around become tinges of the ugly and lovely, the gloomy and ecstatic, the despondent and optimistic blobs on my shirt. And the stain would probably remain unbleached beyond the passing of another seven years.

Then, I'd go home and hug my mother tight (aww!). I'd kiss her every morning and my sisters and niece. Hug my brother every morning and my nephews. Cook them breakfast, lunch and dinner. Clean their rooms, wash their clothes. I'd probably abandon my repugnance to ironing for one day. I'd be a very loving son, a tender brother and a gentle tito.

I probably can't spend time getting a girlfriend. Not that it's too late and desperate but I can't be sadistic to my grave. But I'd probably write down that love letter in my head and send it. It won't elicit for a reply. If that's deemed pathetic then I'd be pathetic to my grave.

I'd show up at community meetings, probably accept an invitation to lead opening worship or talk a talk. Show up at two-round sharings and reunions. Give hand to the charity works.

By that time, I'd probably be as poor as a rat so instead of a jet I'd travel on a frigate of a book like a poem from my primary years. I'd finish my copies of Milan Kundera, Chuck Palahniuk and Arundhati Roy which I still haven't touched after grabbing them from the 'sale' rack. I'd probably learn about the sensitivity of Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea in the after-life.

I'd pen down an entry to the Palanca. I know I will not win, but the mere thought of having sent one is already a prize far bigger than me. I was sorry I didn't get enough of confidence to e-mail that article to the Youngblood until Inquirer thinks I'm no longer 'young' enough to send one.

I'll send long e-mails to pals far and wide. In it, I'd apologize about my failure to reciprocate or even deserve the brand of friendship I have been accorded. It will be brimming of gratitude.

By the time I finish crashing out these items, the sands may have been emptying the upper bulb fast. But before I get all corners covered, I'll stand in front of my father's grave as a tough guy who filled his cup full.

Then, I won't be able to try the world's highest bungee in New Zealand or witness the majesty of Sagrada Familia for myself. But it's okay. I'd probably can't write a book and talk to Paulo Coelho in person and it would be alright. I'd probably bring my cavities to my grave with the warts on my back and I can't give a damn. I'll be the tough guy who filled his cup full.

The movie talked about a survey with 94% responding that they wouldn't want to know when they would kick the bucket. If I'd be Carter and gravely-ill, I'd probably list myself among the 6%, but it would be a different tape if I'm my ass-kicking self right now. I'd probably spend half of my last ninety days calling on to the heavens why me and why now.

I woke up this morning reminded that the visit to the dentist would be over the weekend. I'm glad I can still lay out plans for travel in August and never mind that I'd be hitting the storm (because there'll be a long weekend in August and on no other periods after P-noy became a spoiler of the holiday economics). I'm looking forward to watching the many movies I missed and finding the classics on the 'sale' rack in the bookstores. We don't know what will happen tomorrow but still we wake up and make plans – that's hope. Some of these plans may seem out of our league but still we continue to believe that someday we'll get them – that's faith. While not achieving those plans may wound and break us but still we find reasons to lick the cuts and bruises and be swathed in the strappings of love. These fill my cup.

Then my list will probably be longer than the seven items or so spelled out above. Like Edward Cole, I'd probably get a tattoo. Or do a Carter's extremely weak 'laugh until I cry, help a complete stranger for the good or witness something 'majestic'. Good or nasty, I couldn't care less.

There would be many things that I'd do differently. To add to John Mayer's refrain, I'do what I need to do and change what I need to change. And then when I'm a tad better, I probably won't use 'probably' so often again in a write-up.

"Say"

Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations

Say what you need to say ...

Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only . . .

Say what you need to say...

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
It's better to say too much
Than never say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open

Say what you need to say...