My Traffic Life

I am Mae German. 32 years old. Born in Mangatarem, province of Pangasinan. I was taught and trained by Juan Dela Cruz, and I am currently being trained for more by Uncle Sam. Writing since the age of 12. Blogging since 2001. I keep a notebook and a pen in my bag, on my bedside table, and inside the bathroom. Misses a lot. Sometimes even my own voice. Loves to laugh. Sometimes even at myself. I am a work in progress. My ultimate dream is to be a SAHM. That is, if I am bound to have that chance in this lifetime... and I am.

My Traffic Rules

Don't take my words personally. At times, not even literally. This is my journal. You're my reader. My spectator. Applaud. Yawp. Yawn. Smile. Frown. Rave. Rant. Or not. Neither can I see you from where I am standing nor can I hear you.

This is not my life. Maybe just a part of it. But this is me meandering through life. My emotions fluctuate. My opinion varies. If it's too hot in here and you can't take it, leave. If it's dull and too cold, go somewhere else for warmth. I won't wipe the frown on your brow.

My stories, unless stated otherwise, are mostly fictional. Fiction could be based on reality. Still, they are fiction. Don't own it. Don't live in it. It is what it is. Leave it.

Watch out for the traffic light. Follow the rules. Cruise.

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Inang Bayan, this may hurt You.

Friday, 17 July 2009

"She's already here. Why would she still want to demote herself by going back to the Philippines? That's stupid!"

Ouch!

That did not come from me nor am the person whom they were referring to, but it has hurt me the same.

If I do not know better, it would have pushed me to the edge. I'd rather hold on to my position and keep my mouth shut. I was able to endure it in the past, there's no reason not to be able to tolerate it now. From west coast to east coast and back, it echoes. Like a dull saw trying to cut some human flesh, some human chain. I bled.

Maybe I am a little crazy about You but at least I am not vain. I have no battle within. Wherever I am, I am standing firm. I will never look down on You, Inang Bayan. No matter how green the grass is from where I am standing.

But I am sorry, Inang Bayan, I am not going to fight for you. I will not defend you. Not now. Not when those lines are coming from your own children. As the cliche goes, to each his own.

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