Within the Sphere of Me

I like anything black except Black Widow-like spiders, especially those that have white pin-striped backs that have long spindly legs splayed across a fraction of an inch-thick of gooey-sticky web which manage to strategically hang right smack into your nose when you take a stroll in your backyard.

I love cats but cannot stomach rats —even stuffed toy rats.  Most of my ex-boyfriends managed to give me stuffed animals and creatures, which, when I remember how they broke my heart, makes me want to classify them lower than such.

I am obsessed with chocolates dipped in rock salt but do not wish to dip my fingers in anything bitter.

I love looking at green vegetables because of the wonderfully refreshing visuals these leafies create; but everything ends there.  Veggies are to me like kryptonite is to ManongSuperman.

I do not particularly like sleeping, but I always feel sleepy.  I only succumb to my cushy bed when I couldn’t bear keeping my eyes open any longer.

I have never been scared of ghosts.  I even relish seeing one and was even mistaken for one countless times, especially when I don my white camison and walk towards the john in the middle of the night with only the light from a streetlamp near my window as my only source of liwanag.

I love to listen to music and turn up the volume a couple of unmanageable decibels when my fave song gets to be played.  If I were to be a disc jock once more, I’d refrain from out-talking my playlist, contrary to today’s jocks’ style of being so totally obsessed with talking that the music gets to be drowned by their twittering brainless mutterings.

My body can no longer tolerate that much caffeine, and I have become a bit depressed.  I have outgrown my fondness for milk 29 years ago and would only touch it if it were soy —but with the most recent melamine scare, I couldn’t even sniff the yummy, creamy stuff.  I miss those times when coffee gurgled happily in my bloodstream and tainted the crevices of my mind.

I can now live without my usual make-up and fire-engine red lipstick.  If I get stranded on a deserted island, I can get by without cell phones, make-up, even a few little luxuries.  I used to be so obsessed with whatever material trifle I could ever lay my hands on, but after going through terribly difficult times, I can proudly say that I have started to conquer some of my frisky Midianites.

I relish being loved and being romantically and passionately involved, but now I can manage to wait for whatever it is that God would like me to have.  I managed to pester him with brainless wishes, and not a single one of them came true.  He however has blessed me with gifts I never expected and asked for and I am starting to appreciate the mysteries of His affection.

I am complicated but fairly simple.  I am fond of making things complicated and get entangled in my own trap as I go along my stubborn way.  Of course, I manage to trace my steps back to where I am supposed to start my journey and then head off once more, but this time with a firmer resolve not to heed my heart alone.

My assumptions are wrong most of the time and I am happy when I get to be corrected by my loved ones.  I hate to be corrected by people who have nothing to do with my life.

I love my age and I always tell the truth when they ask me how old I am; anyway, you are only as old as you think.  AND you are as young as you look.

I love to eat breakfast fare for dinner and do not particularly like eating very early in the morning.  But I do adore eating after midnight if ever hunger pangs keep my eyes and sanity awake.

I enjoy singing and dancing, much to the dismay of my family and much to the disgrace of my ancestors.  Someday, I will quench my thirst for ballet by enrolling in a course and arrest the senses of my friends, family and boss.

I always wanted to test my limits —the only things I haven’t quite tried literally are bungee jumping (’though I underwent a similar experience when I tumbled down several flights of stairs last month), flying (’though I can feel my brains being blown away by the wind when I zone out after a particularly hellish day at work), fishing (’though I constantly and figuratively fish for compliments hehe) and playing those games I used to be good at when I was a kid (jackstone, shatung, Chinese garter, kitkit, climbing fruit trees, bahay-bahayan and cooking while play-acting).

Funny how when we think of the things we love and are addicted with, we get to be transported to our own selves, amazed at getting to know ourselves a tad more than we used to.  We discover the beauty of our own soul that unfolds with every secret longing we hold close to our hearts, opening our minds to the possibilities that nothing is impossible, and that not even the bitter taste of ampalaya can keep us from fulfilling our gustatory passion for life and all its mysterious yet flavorful experiences and challenges.