tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50750062024-03-14T11:19:29.018+08:00{caffeine_sparks}sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.comBlogger1007125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-31715988227396923482018-01-25T18:04:00.001+08:002018-01-25T18:04:25.732+08:00More on WritingEnglish was almost always reserved for more cognitive tasks. Tagalog is for the deepest emotions - love, rage, sorrow. But since 2013, when I started writing my thesis - obviously written entirely in English, I felt as much as I thought. I wrote that thesis in a lot of pain. I used to cry. In 2018, as I meditate on a paper I intend to submit soon, I cry. I wanted to ask the people in the room sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-32306198252188488062017-07-12T10:44:00.001+08:002017-07-12T10:44:31.246+08:00WowHello neglected blog. It's been two years! Waaaa!!!sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-46263045316245377202015-07-20T09:56:00.000+08:002015-07-20T09:56:31.104+08:00Like MomI don't know how I can get to be more like my mother. She is, borrowing from the wise words of D, the hero in her story. The chips have long been down, but my mother has no patience to indulge in self-pity. She has accomplished much in her lifetime, but I have a feeling her strong sense of self, has come from when she was very young. She has no qualms about holding court, when need be, no sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-72879167153068077192015-03-29T09:49:00.003+08:002015-03-29T09:49:59.450+08:00ConfusedYou want me, but on your own terms. I can't have you on mine. You want me, but at a distance. You keep me at arms length, but won't let go. You were threatened last night, when I told you I felt different, that something had changed. But you're not ready for this to end. You said you were happy with how things are. I tried to resist sleeping with you. But I didn't put much of an effort. You were sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-37951388401366414572015-03-16T11:28:00.003+08:002015-03-16T11:28:41.688+08:00Love on a SundayWe spoke for three hours yesterday. I hadn't realised it took us that long to muddle through. Well, there was that thirty minute pause to make love. It was the most adult thing I had ever done in a romantic relationship. To muddle through, together. We haven't reached a solution. And if I were to play cost-benefit analysis I am at the losing end of this, however one may look at it. I woke up at sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-3926213380235095142015-03-12T13:01:00.002+08:002015-03-12T13:01:28.133+08:00Another ImpasseWe may be pushing each other's limits. For now, a reprieve. I may go home after all of this is done. There is no reason for me to stay. I do not think he will stop me. I am a temporary shelter in his storm. Once it eases up, he should be able to move in. I am sad and this is delaying the inevitable. I will finish my thesis, and perhaps, be finished with him.sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-58472687321033530502015-03-04T09:01:00.003+08:002015-03-04T09:02:05.432+08:00Public/Private Beings
- From Anti-Social Family, Michele Barrett and Mary McIntosh
Been thinking about this, after a conversation with D, who says he has to put on a different persona at work. Asshole in the office, puppydog at home. Why can't we all be puppydogs regardless of the space we inhabit? Why do we have to be cutthroat at work? Why must we expect to have our emotional needs met only in the privacy of sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-10740963415598258492015-03-02T13:30:00.001+08:002015-03-02T13:30:22.551+08:00Peas in a PodWhy did you call, you fucker? Despite the communications embargo? Disturbing my equilibrium. Rational? Logical? You're no more rational nor logical than me. We're exactly alike, you and I. Something urgent, you said. I thought it was some emergency. But you called just to say you now know what I meant last night and that you miss me. Fuck you, asshole. And I love you.sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-13251382634005113322015-02-25T12:51:00.000+08:002015-02-25T12:51:09.020+08:00A Man to FollowI had never really ever been with someone who I could look up to. All my serious relationships have been with men whom I inevitably led, who followed me. This may be because this was the dynamic in the earliest relationship I have ever witnessed - my parents'. Mom led, dad followed. I asked for you, that fine Saturday in IKEA. I summoned you from the ether, and you came, the day after, exactly assparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-86955178067634844392015-02-22T14:53:00.002+08:002015-02-22T14:53:33.718+08:00CaringIn the toilet while brushing, D. hovers behind me...
Him: *Asking a whole bunch of questions about how my Sunday is going to go*
Me: You're being weird.
Him: How am I being weird?
Me: Why are you asking these questions?
Him: I'm showing interest in what you do. Not doing that is weird.
Me: *stoic face...brush brush...melting inside...love love love*sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-10469373545287076802015-02-21T15:26:00.003+08:002015-02-21T15:31:14.638+08:00A hint of somethingI seem to be going retro. Its the only reason why I have conflicted feelings when you display these little hints of something. You clearly like to boss people and in your subtle and sometimes not so subtle way have them do what you want. You've tried this with me a few times, and each time of course you would get the typical response from a female whom no one bosses around. I think you realised sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-84017991228891591092015-02-21T13:36:00.000+08:002015-02-21T13:36:03.980+08:00Making liveYou were visually and audibly upset. It's as if someone had punched you in the gut. We watched death unfold in front of us in the cinema, a husband's anguish as his wife passes away before his eyes. I sat there, impotent. All I could do was stroke your arm, your chest. I did the best I could to comfort you after, sitting on your couch, touching each other as we sat waiting for J to finish cookingsparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-86341315882669622732015-02-20T10:59:00.002+08:002015-02-20T10:59:36.048+08:00The L WordYou said it glibly, spontaneously, a "spur of the moment thing." I don't know why you said it. Maybe you were genuinely happy. I felt strange about it. I told you not to say these things unless you meant them. You said yes, "but I really like you." Did I force your hand that you felt a need to say it? Was it because you were afraid I would hie up and leave?sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-76013335987488579302015-02-17T12:22:00.001+08:002015-02-17T12:22:08.176+08:00InevitablySo many things you said last night. This word is the one I will remember. You said you didn't mean it, or you didn't use the correct word. It was when I asked you what I could possibly do to hurt you. You asked me the same. I said if you betrayed me, if you proved me right all along, that you were not an exception. What I could do to hurt you, you said was if we broke up. That was inevitable, yousparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-91178463976182570322015-02-14T12:06:00.001+08:002015-02-14T12:06:56.757+08:00An impasseYou lay on the bed, last night, patiently waiting for me to settle down. I told you numerous times to leave me, to leave. You stayed. Your courage is highly commended, despite you being scared, as you said. It was an evening of tumult. From when I picked up on your frustrated Friday afternoon mood to you arriving over an hour later than expected. I was discontent. The discontent was not just fromsparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-48977259502195514382015-02-14T09:00:00.000+08:002015-02-14T09:00:00.998+08:00Hommage A conversation with a friend the other day has got me thinking - there are so many things that you learn implicitly in training to be an academic. Nobody tells you what you need to learn - I wish they did so everything is spelled out clearly. You are being disciplined without you even understanding the logic behind it. One that nobody really tells you about is how 'academia' means your peers. (sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-90351947967052493052015-02-13T08:00:00.000+08:002015-02-13T08:00:06.262+08:00ProfessionalismEveryone talks about how every graduate student has to behave 'professionaly.' Unfortunately professionalism is the last thing you will observe in some scholars sometimes. I try to imagine some of these behaviours in a corporate setting and undoubtedly they would have been seen as not only unprofessional but downright rude and callous. If you want a harmonious environment where people are able tosparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-29650301226423915172015-02-12T12:54:00.001+08:002015-02-12T12:54:35.333+08:00Wishy washyI'm not used to him being indecisive, so when he is my reaction can be whatever is the opposite of generous. Last night he had casually brought up the idea of me joining him and his friend at CQ. I suppose I reacted sanely to the spontaneous idea - it was late and I was exhausted due to a long day, lack of sleep and a run on the treadmill. In the end I went, after we had a heated discussion (as sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-31999268485956523232015-02-10T09:25:00.004+08:002015-02-10T09:25:52.064+08:00Little girl wants her lolly*Phone rings. He doesn't usually call so early*
Me: Hello?
Him: Hey, what are you doing?
Me: Nothing
Him: Where are you?
Me: Home, working
Him: Ok, good
Me: Why are you calling?
Him: Nothing, I don't want you throwing another tantrum, accusing me of ignoring you
Me: *laughs* So you're punching in your time card huh? Reporting...
Him: Yeah
Me: Well I appreciate the effort
Him: Right. I will hear sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-73858512157697275412015-02-06T16:22:00.001+08:002015-02-06T16:22:51.307+08:00Passion, ReasonA common complaint from all the men I have loved assumes that passion cannot coexist with reason. Or where one manifests itself the other cannot. Where an issue, an argument, a point of discussion between lovers concerns affairs of the heart, I hear 'But you are so smart!' or 'Can't you be logical about this?' or 'Why are you being like this? You're doing a goddamn PhD'. As if doing a goddamn PhDsparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-13979079843222770582015-02-05T09:46:00.000+08:002015-02-05T09:46:25.361+08:00Someone NewI've started seeing someone new. Someone who matters. I made a wish and *poof* there he came the day after. The universe will give you what you want when you need it I suppose. When it is something promising you can't help but oscillate between hope and fear. It has been nearly three weeks thus far. This oscillation has not gone away.
I watched him bathe this morning. For ten or so minutes I sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-32288037576518192372015-02-01T21:18:00.002+08:002015-02-01T21:18:35.022+08:00Hello again old friendHello abandoned blog. It's been a while. I feel a need to ask for forgiveness, for having forsaken you, for having forsaken my internal dialogues. I have not been writing. I am all out it seems. I refuse to think anymore, having thought and thought and thought so hard these past few months. I am all out, you see. Perhaps, if I were to continue the internal dialogue in my head, the writing will sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-45283667020579504452014-02-05T18:28:00.002+08:002014-02-05T18:28:56.192+08:00AlatSix weeks have come and gone and I have not produced anything. I wonder at my reticence. Did the initial push burn me out so quickly? Or maybe I have turned so cowardly? Must find fortitude. Be brave Sparky. Break new ground. Touch your fucking data. Do something with it for god's sake.sparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-68347715058573593192013-10-19T09:50:00.002+08:002013-10-19T09:50:43.849+08:00Endingsparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5075006.post-53804261913421557892013-08-26T14:17:00.001+08:002013-08-26T14:17:43.769+08:00To make government transparentInteresting set of events today, which got me to think about 'transparency.' If the problem is that there are thieves operating in shadows who betray the core tenets of our social contract, then the solution is to remove objects which cast said shadows. To make transparent means to see everything, to the extent that this is possible. To make transparent means to install mechanisms of surveillancesparkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14176802456964956777noreply@blogger.com1