“… and go rejoicing to the end of it, the tale that’s told for no other reason but companionship,” — Jack Kerouac
I might not like the book where I got this quote from, but it is hard to resist that those words are too tempting not to blog by. After all, the most ecstatic moment that I’ve ever experienced in blogging was when Beverly (The Mystic Horse Chronicle), had the courage to tell her own story because of my “powerful post” and another blog that I was referencing. It took her perhaps more than 60 years (yes, sixty) to finally open up. Truth to be told, her written words are breathtakingly beautiful. It’s the kind of beauty that comes from acknowledging, not dismissing, pain.
In short, I couldn’t feel more humbled than to have part in encouraging someone to share deep matters-of-the-heart revelation. I know how meaningful it is.
And that’s why I blog in first place, more than a decade ago. That’s why I share bits and pieces of life stories, both significant yet insignificant at the same time. That’s why I brave myself to continue filling this space in the hope of keeping you (and myself) in company.
Here, in Words Afloat, I am not going to set a strict limit on what I write. It is my personal blog, as personal as it can be. It’s a musing blog. It’s a life chronicle the way old time blogs used to be. You may find different types of post which you might choose based on your liking:
- Postcard: brief posts that encapsulates a specific moment
- Diary: longer form that includes chronicling the day, my thought processes, or both
- Books: posts about books, public library, etc
- Fieldnote: free-form notes related to my role as a researcher on food and the likes
Last but not least, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy. Please share your story. Looking forward to hear from you.
What is the best feelings in the world?
A couple of weeks ago I talked about one of the best feelings in the world. It is to genuinely feel happy for other people.
Another best feelings in the world, in my opinion, is a heartfelt hug. I didn’t notice the lasting impression and blissful sensation of a heartfelt hug until later in my life.
It was early 2013, I was in my late twenties when I first realized that this is one of the best feelings in the world.
“Those who really have a difficult life, never mention ‘difficulties in life’,” my late friend once told us in a small forum of five.
This quote always reminded me of one of my best friend. Despite tremendous difficulties in her life, she always, always consider herself lucky.
She was born on February the 13th. People tend to associate 13 with bad luck, but not her. She managed to flip the bad omen into luck. Or, perhaps it was the way she see things, her point of view, a constant perception to rewrite her hardships into stories of sweet revenge.
Such as these word of hers:
Sometimes I regret why my legs are short, but then I smiled remembering how far I’ve gone.
Last week, I stumbled upon one of my junior high school friend. She didn’t change a bit. She looks exactly the same like when I saw her the last time, around 15 years ago. She still got the same child-like face, with a small pair of eyes, small nose, small lips, small straight and soft hair in a ponytail. Her petite figure could easily made people think that she’s a school kid.
As she walked down the stairs of the oldest mall in my hometown, I greeted her.
Are you afraid of dark?
Last night, you did not sleep at all. The same thing happened the night before. And the night before. And the night before. It is basically every single night. You never sleep. At night, that is. Then in the morning, I have to turn all lights off. It irritated me, the way you have to turn on every single lamp in the house. It doesn’t make any sense. At least for me. But perhaps you are different. For as long as I could remember, since little you are always afraid of the dark.
Laura Parrott-Parry in In Others’ Words raised a very important subject on her post, Law of the Wild. She talked about the guilt-feeling of rape victims. It seems that a lot of victims are putting blame on themselves, at least partially. Yes, you got it right. The victim is blaming themselves and they mean it. “Down to the very core of who they are.”
This is, to say the very least, problematic. Or downright insane, to be absolutely blunt.
But what’s going on in the victims’ mind are way more complicated than what other people may comprehend. This is not to endorse the victims’ self-blaming. Nor to let rapists get away feeling less guilty.