Clutter-Keeper

I am a self-confessed clutter-keeper. I have no medical basis but I think it is hereditary. My mom is a clutter-keeper, too and from her, I got this trait– from keeping old Tupperware to towels to dinnerware to old receipts and bills. Like Mama, I just don’t have the heart to throw things away, for sentimental reasons. From my husband’s old love letters, greeting cards, gift cards down to my children’s baby clothes, toys and stick-figure drawings. 

In our closet, I still have the plastic wrappers of Alex’s Valentine flowers, chocolate wrappers, grocery receipts, coins, and old Christmas gifts from friends which I have never used. I have Cae’s and Caehl’s school receipts, test papers, and ID’s. Our hospital/ medical records are in legal envelopes, including billings, receipts and prescriptions. My pocket planners and journals are complete from year 1996. I used to keep credit card bills, cable receipts, telephone and cellphone bills, and all the bills in the world but I have already trained myself to throw them away after a year.

In my kitchen, you would see paper plates and cups, microwaveable plastic containers, even ice cream gallons and leche flan llaneras. Plastic and paper shopping bags? You bet. But only because we re-use it to line the trash bin. Plastic bottles? You bet. But only because we give it to people who would sell them to junk shops.

In the living room, old magazines, Caehl’s books and toys, photo frames, medals, awards, and photo albums clutter the shelves, as well as fast food delivery menus. Old crayons, pens, and markers are all over the library, including giveaway bags, my children’s old textbooks, and birthday tarps. And manuscripts and photocopies of press releases, both Alex’s and mine. My collection of Marian Rivera magazine covers are in a shelf in my bedroom.

In the same manner, I have the tendency to hoard old memories, and keep them in my heart and mind, memories that are good and bad, happy and sad. More often than not they don’t do me good, especially the not-so-pleasant ones. They make me angry. My vivid imagination enables me to re-live, recapture old horrors in my life as if they are happening all over again. Sometimes the stuff that I store are the very same ones who evoke these memories. Calendars, plane tickets, and yes, pictures. This is the part of my being a clutter-keeper that I hate and don’t want to keep anymore. This is the part that I want to get rid of. Because it does me no good.

When I had this depression around nine years ago, Alex would often tell me not to dwell on the past, especially the negative parts. Because it stops me from moving forward. Because it makes me angry. And because it’s not healthy. The past belongs to the past. And to learn from it, and to be wiser, better and stronger, is the best way to deal with it, than mope and sulk. I guess, like the clutter I have since learned to throw away, I will learn to discard this excess baggage and be able to lighten my load someday.

Well, what about the good ones? They encourage me to smile and move on, and inspire me to write entries such as this…and make me hold on to the belief that there’s still some goodness left in this world for us. And despite everything, after all has been said and done, every single moment that happens or happened to you will always teach you about goodness.

~TheGoodGirl

An Empty Jar

Inside my mind

And heart,

There is a library of memories.

The memories are contained in jars,

Categorized into years

And persons.

Like if I want to remember a certain year, I can just take out the jar labeled with that year, open its lid and release the memories. Or if I want to reminisce about a certain person, I will pick out the one bearing his or her name, and again, help myself to the memories I kept inside the jar.

- Memory Jars, Tales of The Good Girl, September 2014

When I opened one of my memory jars a year ago, I consequently released pent-up memories and things that happened which I thought would forever be at the backseat of my mind.

Back then, when I decided to put away this particular jar, I placed it where I would never see it again. I would always hold back each time there was something that would remind me of this year, and of certain persons in my life during this year. I have managed, for the longest time, to confine such experiences to my memory bank’s “black hole”, hoping they will disappear and never come back to haunt me, and hurt me.

I thought they were all gone. I never knew that opening that jar will make me remember and feel again the joys, the thrills, the fears, the disappointments, and the pains. Many times, I would tell myself to replace the lid and close the jar again, and put it back where it belongs – the past. There were times though that I thought the jar would remain open forever. But that was not going to happen.

Perhaps, to close the jar and return it to the shelf is not enough. Perhaps, it would be best if I take out all the contents, or shake the jar and throw everything in it away. That way, even if it remains open, it would be empty. And all the memories inside would forever be forgotten. And I would be finally free.

Thank you for the memories...

~TheGoodGirl

Where words leave off, music begins

You know what music is? 

God's little reminder that there's something else besides us in this universe, a harmonic connection between all living beings, every where, even the stars.
 -  August Rush, 2007

My most favorite scene/s in the movie. So touching. When Louis Connelly (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) and Evan Taylor (Freddie Highmore) met for the first time and played together, not knowing they are father and son.

I have been with Alex for 23 years now, but I didn’t know that he could play the piano so well. Well, I always knew they had this old piano in his brother’s house, but I didn’t know that he had it in him. He is known after all as a writer first and foremost, and not a musician (although he sings).

But for the past months, he would spend a lot of time on the keyboard, we have this electric organ at home which we bought for no reason at all. Alex would play pieces such as Beethoven’s Für Elise, and Mozart’s Einekleine Nachtmusik, and Rondo Alla Turca. I could hear his music from our bedroom. Sometimes it lulls me to sleep. I feel calm and comforted. And loved. But sometimes it wakes me up. Especially Rondo Alla Turca. Dad, don’t play so loud, I couldn't sleep, I would tell him. I need to sleep!

His playing must have inspired our son a lot. Caehl would Google the pieces his dad plays. And he either watches YouTube videos featuring the song/s, or just listen to them. When Alex would play fast, he would tell me, “Daddy is playing the fast version.” Then he would imitate his dad. Caehl even downloaded on his tab an app wherein he is simulating piano-playing.

One time, I heard the opening bars of Für Elise, then it stopped. I heard our helper talking to Caehl. From my room, I shouted, “Who was that? Was that Caehl?” I thought it was Alex. I was amazed. My son could play. I sing (I used to be a Glee Club officer), but I don’t play any instrument. I once took informal guitar lessons when I was a kid, but simply put, I don’t have the talent. The closest I could get to being “classical” was when I had this dream, sort of like travelling back in time, I was standing behind Johannes Brahm on the piano, with his back to me, composing his now famous Brahm’s Lullaby. I was there, I swear I was there. Just a little side note: I later learned that it was dedicated to his friend, Bertha Faber, when the latter gave birth to her second son. Brahms had been in love with Bertha and "constructed the melody of the Wiegenlied to suggest, as a hidden counter-melody, a song she used to sing to him." How romantic.

Then summer came. I don’t know who had the idea first, but it was a good one to enroll Caehl to piano lessons.

His lessons are almost over, three more sessions to go before their recital. His teacher said he is a fast learner. On Day 1, nasa page 20 na siya ng book nila. Alex accompanied him one time and he said Caehl seemed to be enjoying it. During our discussion, his teacher said she thought Caehl would quit, as he would sometimes throw a tantrum, especially when he couldn’t “master” it. “He is a perfectionist,” she said. He would play over and over again until he is satisfied. Hindi pwede sa kanya yung “Pwede na yan.” And typical of Caehl, he would just have to know the rationale of everything he does and studies. He would have to understand the reason behind everything. And he would enjoy it more. So sometimes, in the middle of the session, they would stop to talk, and then resume.

As I have said, this time I won’t take the credit. It's all Alex’s. And I thank God for his music. And for this gift. It’s a beautiful thing. And I am grateful that Caehl accepted the gift of music, too. I can’t get over this wonderful feeling. That we are able to have him experience it. That we are able to share this with him. I write. Alex and I are writers – but as Heinrich Heine put it: "Where words leave off, music begins."

In the movie August Rush (2007), August Rush said in his opening voice-over: Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind... in the air... in the light. It's all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do... is listen.

Thank you for listening.

~TheGoodGirl

The Perfect Ending

I'm just a writer, Emma. 

I don't know what to do to show you how much I love you. 

I only have words. That's all I have.

~Alex Sheldon, Alex & Emma, 2003

For the longest time, I have been working on a story.

I haven’t been writing fiction for quite sometime now. But I had it. The five key elements were there - character, setting, conflict, plot and theme. And most importantly, the inspiration behind it, the heart and soul of writing that story was never lost.

But admittedly, I encountered difficulty inasmuch as I didn’t want it to end. Not that I didn’t know how to end it. Thing is, I already had a perfect ending in mind. But for some reason, I didn’t want it to have an ending. It was ongoing, and I wanted to keep it going. There were times that I thought tapos na ito. Tama na ito. Ayoko na. Yet every day, may nangyayari. I would add something. Or I would change my mind. I would have a change of heart. Baka pwede pa. How I wanted it to go on forever. Never mind that it was supposed to be a “short story.” I just didn’t want it to end.

Sooner or later, I knew that I had to write -30-. The struggle was on. Sometimes I could be stubborn. Sometimes I could be so persistent. All the signs were there, yet I kept on ignoring them. Hoping that one day, that perfect ending, that beautiful and happy ending would materialize. Baka naman pwede pa, I kept on wishing. Konti na lang, konting push pa. Baka makuha sa kulit. Even in my daily prayers, I would ask the Lord to give me more time. Dear God, You do know that I never give up. I won’t give up on this. Maybe in this story of mine, You would allow me to go on. Never mind the heartaches, never mind the strain. I just wanted this story to go on forever.

Yet one morning, I woke up to find that the end is near. The story has to be concluded. I have to wrap it up. Otherwise, it would just go nowhere. It is in fact going nowhere. Its beauty will soon get lost. Hindi na baleng matapos na in all its splendor, kesa naman pilitin ko pa, papangit lang.

And so, I am writing -30-. It’s time. Finally. I have now reached the end, and I have to write the ending it properly deserves. My story is finished. While the final chapter was not what I had originally in mind, and I didn’t see it coming, it has all come together. I couldn't put a happy ending, otherwise it would come out “pilit”. Sorry if it’s not the classic ending (I or) most readers would prefer, but at long last, I let the main character overcome her major conflict and put that conflict away - in the dark recesses of her mind.

The End.

~TheGoodGirl