The Man or The Woman

To marry him would mean; to follow him back to his hometown, find a new job, adapt to new surroundings, find new friends AND leaving my mother.

I cannot say that I am a good daughter. Its not like I help around the house much, eventhough I know my mother is not physically able. She loves gardening so much (as like most senior folks are). She'll take the hedge-cutter and start chomping off the hedges or the mango branches that starts to grow "out of place". Or the bougainvillaea branches. My, those branches are so hard..... I don't know how my mother manage to chop them off. But then, all of her friends do call her the "Iron Lady". She is not as strong, she is not as well either. Most of the time, she acts, pretends like she is.

I love my mother. What is there not to love? She took care of all her children, makes sure we go to the best schools, best universities, give us pocket money eventhough she is may have little for herself. She makes sure we had a roof over our head. Very comfortable, mind you. Clothes on our back, new ones too. Where did she get the money you ask? She worked long hours, really long hours. She took on extra tasks and she would be working until 1-2 am in the morning, alone at the office.

When we didn't like the schools we went to, or if it was too far. She'd be going to town now and again, to all the necessary government offices, meet the respectives officers so we could move to a better and a nearer school. When we were at boarding schools, she never misses to visit us EVERY weekend. No matter how far our schools were. She even visits us when we were undergraduates. I remember, one time, she was driving back home, alone, from my campus, she met with an accident. She was tired and sleepy. She hit a lamp post. Another time, she helped me move to a new place, driving home, the van's tire burst.

All the things she's been through to take care all of us....

Now it's my turn to take care of my mother.

Do I leave the woman for the man I've known for two years, or do I leave the man for the woman who carried my world for more than 20 years?

An Instrument of Expression

When ideas starts to accumulate, when feelings starts to swivel and swirl there's no better place but to put them all in writing. What better place than in a diary. Giving room to your already crammed mind (and heart). But, you want everybody to know. Know what you are thinking, feeling and experiencing!! Hey world! Hey everybody! This is what I am feeling today, this is what's happening to me, and this is what I'm thinking. Then again, aren't your thoughts a secret? If everybody knows what you are feeling, won't you be vulnerable?

I guess, a blog fulfills the need to express yourself in a diary, where your secrets are safely guarded but at the same time, letting the world know (if a stranger happens to stumbles into this blog, that could count as letting the everybody know. He/she could be considered as a representative of the world, right). A way that seems like you are shouting and yet, its not.

"A: life is hard
B: yeah, compared to what? "

And so the journey begins........