Tag: 2013

Keep walking

Tina 3 Comments

I started walking down this road again, just recently. I mean that literally, as in walking down an actual road that exists in one of the cities I frequent. I avoided it in for a while because I had to let go of one of the reasons to go there, and well…frankly, it just felt weird and painful to go there again. I picked alternate routes for a while, until I had a long talk with a friend and she told me:  “You should start walking down that road again. It’s just a road, you know.”

Image from we heart it
Image from we heart it

So I decided to start passing by there again. It is just a road, after all. Plus, avoiding it meant I had to spend a little more when I head home after a visit to that city, so convenience and practicality won me over.

The first time I was there I was with some friends, so it wasn’t that bad. The second time, I was alone but it was a holiday so it wasn’t too bad, either. The third time, however, I was so nervous that I speed-walked all the way, and I got so stressed as I got home because I walked in almost panic. Crazy.

What’s the big deal about this? Sometimes I wonder if I am doing the right thing with all that, with making that first choice to avoid, and then changing my mind and going back. It’s just a place. But I’m the kind of person who put too much importance on things like these sometimes, like how I put importance on a type of scent because it reminds me of a trip, or a certain scrap of paper because it came with a gift. I’m sentimental like that. Other people think it’s weird, I know, and I’m pretty sure they’d think I should purge or something, because why am I being such a masochist, anyway?

But the thing is…well, I don’t know, really. I guess this is still me wanting to be brave, to say to the little things and circumstances: No, you will not defeat me. I will not fear you. So I plow on, and walk, because how else can you go down that road if you don’t walk?

And I actually like walking. It can get a bit tiring, but I get something every time I walk. Endorphins, what have you. So…I keep on walking.

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Stories to Tell: That Space in Your Heart

Stories to Tell Guest Blogger Leave a comment

Stories to Tell

Stories to Tell is a blog series where I invite guest bloggers to share share their story.
I think stories are wonderful things, and we all have our own stories to tell.
It is my hope that in sharing these stories, we will remember that we are never alone.

* * *

My first guest blogger is a friend I met through one of my blogs. She asked me not to reveal her name, so I shall leave it at that. Thank you so much for sharing your story. :)

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I watched my family grow old in two-dimension. For the past ten years, they have made their home in a place of ice and snow and days that hardly end, while I stay in the limbo of Manila’s dusty and humid streets, occasionally drowning in an August waterworld. But distance does little to hide the years, even when I pretend that everything happened just yesterday. Wrinkles appear almost overnight, flattened by computer monitors. The frozen sunlight in a photograph glints off a strand of white hair. I begin to measure growth spurts in pixels.

ice caves

This life wasn’t entirely by choice; I aged out when my family flew. At first I was excited at the idea of living alone, something that I was never really allowed to entertain while my parents were still here, despite a six-month experiment that gave me a temporary cosmopolitan address but depleted my savings. Now suddenly I was getting everything for nothing. I could stay out as late as I wanted. I didn’t have to pay rent. I could have friends and guys over. I was working in a company where we drank mojitos in the middle of the day. I was traveling and crossing off countries on my bucket list. It was far from a hedonistic lifestyle — after all, I worked overtime and was paying off two insurance policies — but it felt all terribly grown-up to me, in the way that teenagers imagine grown-up life to be.

In those ten years, I would spend holidays with friends and relatives, even an ex-boyfriend’s family long after we had broken up. Desperate times. Christmases are worse. Finally, I had to admit: I was alone.

And I was lonely.

I realize that there is a space in your heart that no one but family can fill. It is the space reserved for Sunday breakfasts after church and dressing up in old nightgowns. It is the space reserved for shadow puppets during brownouts and arguments over TV programs. It is the space for eating arroz caldo when you’re sick and inventing secret languages and outrunning the traffic police on your last night together. It is the space for everything silly and bitter and happy and tragic that sees you from childhood to adulthood.

Sometimes I find myself in my grandmother’s house or in a train bound for new places, always feeling grateful that I have escaped the city. But in every return, I remember that I am alone. The house in Manila never feels smaller; there is, after all, only me in it.

It will be a few years again before I will see them — all of them. In that time, hairstyles would have changed, dress sizes would be different. Names and opinions and attitudes might not be the same. I’m always afraid that growing up — growing old — means growing apart and I wish I had just a little more time to know everyone better.

So tonight, if you are with your family, hug them. Kiss them and tell them that you are okay. Ask what you can do. Love them in simple doses, in grand gestures, in ways that are both tangible and immeasurable.

You are very lucky.

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If you wish to be a guest blogger for my Stories to Tell feature, head over to this post to find out how. Looking forward to reading and sharing your stories! :)

What’s your story?

Tina Leave a comment

It feels a little weird opening this little thing again. Hey guys, how have you been?

I’ve been doing a lot lately, and will be doing a lot again, in the next few months. Sometimes I still get that surreal feeling when I remember some things, and then I snap into the present and find myself…well, okay with where I am. Thankful, even.

But enough of the cryptic stuff. Let me share something a friend sent me in an email one time:

There are so many things people will tell you […] but the greatest thing, in my opinion, is that it is something that is uniquely […] your own. It’s a chapter in your life that is absolutely dependent on your humility to learn and grow.

I like that, how our stories are uniquely our own. How each of our stories may look the same, but it isn’t completely the same, too. But the cool thing about our stories is even if it is uniquely, beautifully our own, we can learn a lot from other people’s stories. Our stories are different, but it connects us to one another. It reminds us that even if we have to go through some of our stories on our own, we are still not completely alone.

And I want to highlight those stories. So say hello to my latest blog feature, Stories to Tell.

Stories to Tell is about your story. Share your story — about family, friends, pets, strangers. Love, heartbreak, grief, happiness. Doing everything and doing nothing. Searching and finding and losing. Your favorite things that will always make you happy, or the things that used to make you happy but now don’t. Your most favorite person in the world. A life-changing trip. Places you want to see. A letter to your past, or future self. It is my hope that in showcasing these stories here, we all find something in them, and we remember that we are not alone.

I’ve invited several friends to be my first guest bloggers, so you will read their stories here in the next few weeks. If you’re interested in being a guest blogger for this feature, send me an email at hello[at]tinamats.com (or use this form) with your story, following these guidelines:

Stories to Tell Guest Feature: ((Oh, and a little disclaimer: All stories will be screened, and I claim the right to refuse to post stories on my blog if they go against my beliefs/values, and/or if they are disrespectful to other people. Let’s all play nice, okay?))

  • Max of 1000 words, and a title for your story
  • Stories can come in any format – essay, poetry, creative nonfiction, or even art.
  • Feel free to include photos for your story.
  • Please include a bio (50-100 words), with any links you want me to add (your blog, your Twitter, etc). If you want to be anonymous, it’s okay, too. I’ll just try describe you without revealing who you are. :D

I’m looking forward to reading (and sharing) your stories. :)

Oh, and I’ll be back soon, I promise. With stories to tell, too. :)

David Mitchell