Words and Thoughts

(In which timeless works never cease to give me inspiration to think and feel.)

***

I’ve decided to start searching for prospective universities wherein I might take my Master’s degree. And since I have planned to take further studies in literature, I have also decided to re-read some literary works as refreshers. They sure refreshed not just my memory regarding my literary subjects but my understanding of life as well. And then, reflections.

"A Piece of String” by Guy de Maupassant

Maître Hauchecome picked up a piece of string in the market and it changed his life entirely. His enemy, Maitre Malandain, saw him picked up something from the floor. And to hide his shame, having his enemy saw him pick up a piece of string, he quickly hid it under his shirt and pretended to be still looking for something. Later that day, Maitre Fortune Houlbreque lost his pocketbook containing five hundred francs. Maitre Malandain testified that he has seen him pick the pocketbook up from the street and hid it. Everyone believed Maitre Malandain. And even when the pocketbook was returned, no one believed Maitre Hauchecome no matter how many times he tells the truth. Everyone thinks he had the pocketbook returned by an accomplice. And since then, people made fun of him. He still uttered the same story to prove his innocence until he died.

***

The society has a lot to do with Maitre Hauchecome’s death. Just as he thought he was vindicated when the pocketbook was returned, the event triggered the most detrimental of his days. How dangerous is the tongue of an enemy! How destructive and deadly! That’s the power of lies. When someone’s reputation has been put to question, it can never be fixed.

“Barter” by Sara Teasdale

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

Whenever I read this poem, I think of nothing but good things about life. It reminds me that there are simple things in nature that gives happiness to those who has the senses to enjoy it. Life is a barter. You give something to get something. Hmmmm… And what can I give to get love, peace and happiness?

“Sixteen” by Maureen Daly

It’s about a sixteen year-old girl who has been swept away by a young man one winter night. Even though they’ve shared just a few moments, she thought that they’ve had something so special that when he told her he’ll call, she believed and waited. Now days passed by but the telephone never rang any calls from the man. And she ceased waiting.
***
A word of promise. Alright, so promise is a heavy word. Then let’s just use ‘statement’. When someone tells me “I’ll call you”, I wait. Sure. But who will not be disappointed when that statement never became an action, when it’s supposed to be an action? I wondered. Why do people keep on saying things they can’t really do? Do they think it’s better saying something they don’t really mean and make the other person believe than not saying anything at all? Okay. Let’s put a period to my bitterness and get back to reading.

“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.

Many have analyzed this poem and they came up with various interpretations – negative and positive. What I understand about this poem (of course, not that I am more reliable than them or something) is that it refers to choices. (Wow! So original!) Whatever difference that “choice” has made to the writer’s life, I don’t know. But as for everyone, it is when we make our choice that we embrace whatever consequences it would cause us. Otherwise, there is no use making that decision.

Sibling Argument

(In which “abusive” and “irresponsible” needs to be defined for my younger sister.)

***

It was a lazy day. I woke up at eleven in the morning and had lunch. I watched SOP Rules while waiting for 4PM when I was supposed to go out and chat with someone over the internet. Then the clock stroke 3:30. I decided to wait for some more time before preparing to leave. After a moment, I saw my younger sister sneaking inside the house, careful not to wake up the dog as she entered. Everyone in the house knows it would be “rumble time” if Doggie wakes up. But she failed. And in the minutes that followed, Doggie was barking his lungs out to welcome the newcomer, eager as hell to get a hug.

After that cute encounter between young master and beast, my sister turned to me and asked, “Have you finished the paper works I’ve assigned you?” in a manner that made me look like a secretary being questioned by her boss. And the paper works she mentioned referred to the research project she needs for her vocal recital.

“Yes, I did.” I answered, like how a responsible secretary does it – minus the “Ma’am.”

“Okay,” she said and went upstairs to change her clothes. When she came back, she handed me some papers.

“What are these?” I asked.

“”Well, you’ve finished doing the research for the foreign composers’ biography and some information about their works. Now you have to do the same thing for Filipino composers and their works. I’ve photocopied some information from encyclopedia. Use them as reference. But don’t copy the exact words.”

“What? Are you serious? This isn’t an easy job –“

“I need it now. I’ll type it when I get back to the dormitory tonight.”

“I can just send it to your e-mail tomorrow. Besides, I need to go out in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s easy. You can finish it in no time! Wait. You’re going out on a date? Hmmm… I can ask Papa’s permission for you.”

“I’m not going out on a date. And this is not an easy job. If you really believe it’s really easy then I guess you can do it by yourself.”

“That was my idea. But my professor reminded me not to copy it in verbatim so I decided to have you do it.”

“You could have just told me to do it this morning!”

“But you were sleeping! What do you expect me to do?”

“You used to wake me up just to ask me where my facial wash is! Did you really think I would appreciate your respect for my sleeping time in this situation?”

Silence.

So I started scanning the biographies and song information and I couldn’t help but get enraged. Hey, with all those music jargons and stuffs, who wouldn’t? Not to mention you’re being rushed to understand and summarize all those?

But I managed to start writing some paragraphs only to be more angered by the complexity of the next pages. “This is insane,” I whispered angrily.

My sister noticed my apparent irritability and said, “Fine! I’ll do it! You can leave now. Go!”

I didn’t. And then after that, what? I’ll be the bad girl? No way. So I tried my best to finish it but failed to write something about one female composer. I gave up. I went to my room and fell on my bed, my head spinning like crazy. It felt like I just came out of an Algebra class. I checked the time and it’s already 5:10PM. Aaaarrrggghhhh!!!!

Then I fell asleep. Damn, I was so tired.

I was awakened when I heard someone walking up the stairs. I opened my eyes and saw Mama standing outside my door. She was holding a bag of food. I instantly noticed that it’s a bag of my favorite pancit palabok!

"From your sister,” she said.

***Sunday February 22, 2009***