ariellalisan.org – Homeward Bound

IN THE last two years, I barely had enough time for introspection. I have been occupied with so many things that I did not notice my emotional and spiritual hunger.

My time had been spent on adjusting to my job and adjusting to life at home. I’ve been away from home since 2003 and it had been quite stressful to be living in a new environment at home.

I had a difficult time facing up to the new challenges. I’ve been living outside my comfort zone for most of the time and I am always treading new grounds. The responsibilities are greater and failing is never an option.

LAST NIGHT, I was trying to figure out what went wrong with my life. I seems like entropy is working at an increased rate and I am now wallowing in a huge mess.

But I couldn’t figure it out. What I came up with instead is a list of things I hate about growing up and grown ups. My inability to fit in is what I think caused all this mess.

Four Things I Hate About the Grown Ups’ World:

HE SAYS I should be part of Introvoys. No, it is not because I can sing well. Definitely not. It is because when he asks me to sing, I only sing the first few lines of the song and he would always prod me finish it.

My conversations with Ken on the phone does not only keep me sane. They also make me realize some of life’s little lessons.

One recent insight I got from him is about beginnings.

Yeah, I am man of beginnings. I am always enthused with starting new things, trying out something new and something different.

He lived to uphold the rights, especially of the weak, corrupted by the abusive rule

He lived to opposed oppression as caused by development aggression

He lived as an intelligent critic to all wicked

He lived to protect the environment

He lived to stand for what is right

He lived to value life

He lived

He was killed

— Lui –

WHEN I came home this afternoon the news on TVPatrol SocSKSarGen mentioned the name, Eliezer “Boy” Billanes and I my attention was glued on the report.

LAST NIGHT, in this same internet shop, I happened to sit beside a middle-aged woman and a little boy. I figured they were chatting with somebody. I thought they were talking to the woman’s husband who might be working abroad. But I was wrong.

It was the child, about 12 years old, who was typing the messages for the woman. There were some English words that they couldn’t understand, which I volunteered to translate for them.

Later on, they received a message from the person on the other end of the line that said: “Show me your ass.”