this used to be my playground...

Growing up, we have that graphic bible books that we've outgrown. I remembered those days where we (my siblings) snuggled our small-framed bodies to each other just to share those books and (that) one small book about the monkey and the turtle.

So...

When I am lost or out of sight, I am just in any place or aisle with books. Bookstores is my playground. I’m a late bloomer though… when I was a kid. I don’t have that pleasure or leisure to visit a bookstore, nor the money to spend on books.

I was introduced to a library when I was already in high school (as the school had its own library). Unfortunately I don’t have, again, the pleasure to spend my free time hugging all those books in the library as we needed to help out in household chores. I only visit the library on a per need basis

But I do not like libraries. There is that feeling of suffocation when you walk through a quiet, quaint, dim lighted book aisles… THOUGH the scent of old books is exhilarating especially when you run your fingers through it-- caressing them cover after cover while you wander from one aisle to another.

Back in Philippines, I spent the most unholy hours of my Sundays in National Bookstores. I don’t read that much but the urge to browse was there. I have that causeless happiness (of) being in the midst of books, I get lost, and become invisible.

Here, Barnes & Noble offered me a different playground experience. You may not understand it but I can spend my whole afternoon in Barnes & Noble and leave the bookstore smiling, frowning, sad or even mad! LOL!

And now, I have a new playground! I might say goodbye to my old playground as I will be spending most of my free time in the aisles of any Pharmacy around.

Comments

I won't remember you....

I won’t remember you. I never remember anything that hurts me. Harsh huh! Acknowledging the pain and feeling it is one way but the easiest way there is when you have pain is to suck it up and forget about it. I did that. Done that. I learned to be cynical and stoical. I never remember anything that hurts me. When my father died, I only cried the day he was laid to rest. I cried hard in 2013 when I left my mother in a hospital bed without all her senses and memories…and the day she died. Crying helps. Instead of avoiding our feelings, we can simply feel them and forget about it. However, when events and circumstances overwhelm one to the point where they are an emotional wreck --- there’s always a medicine for it! So, Mrs. M got her dose. She passed away. It was sad. She was a happy soul. Someone just hurt me. I won’t remember you. ...

Sunday's child...

I may not have a fair face, but I am a Sunday child. Forty-something years ago, on a wee hours of a Sunday, my mother had a 10-pounder. I was born from an unfortunate situation of my parents who were in dire need to uproot themselves from the very place they called home since their childhood. Most of my siblings were born and grew up in the same hometown. So growing up in a very different environ caused havoc to some of my older siblings --- who are unable to see the tin line between leaving and living. On the other hand, I did not realize the difference between us and them (my older siblings) even they kept teasing me and the other two younger siblings "Moros". I remembered how I was schooled by my older siblings about the sun, the moon, the stars...and why the sky is way up high. I've learned how greed can cause you hunger and misery from the story of the monkey and the turtle . I even learned the eye-flipping story of the pin...

so who's on the floor?...

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and so it goes...

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