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This Beast Called Rage

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Blow one’s top Go berserk Let off steam Mad as a wet hen A bull in rampage These are the idoms in my writer’s tickler that fall under my scribbles on anger. Alongside are words evocative of the same meaning – rage, indignation, wrath, ire, fury. For the past weeks, I have been brooding over this negative emotion that has caused many an earthling to make brash decisions and actions that have damaging consequences. It has also caused needless grief and heartache. I have encountered people who often display this emotion – at school, at work, at home, in the grocery store, in the parking lot, in the restaurant—practically anywhere. I have also observed that its display is not confined to a particular class or age group. When piqued, kids fight back. When scolded, teens lash acerbic words. When bored or ignored, wives nag. Fathers spank. Bosses shout. Employees backbite. Soldiers shoot. Still, others kill. Where did this ticking time bomb of emotion originate? Why do we experie...
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Inner tempests

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So much has happened this week. I have been bombarded with yokes one after another--all trying to weigh me down. Business hangs in the balance. Office life has turned mayhem with all shameful squabbles and issues challenging the soldier in me. Mundane concerns try to knife healthy passions. Businesswise, we have not received any good news from Jing's "business partners" whose transaction we hoped would change the entire landscape of Jing's businesses.We have been waiting and praying since June all along keeping our faith that everything would turn out as we hoped. Well, the waiting is still on, but one thing I am thankful for is the fact that the process we as a family went through and still go through is making us appreciative more of God's timing. How He has taught my hubby to wait patiently and trust everything to him is what delights me inwardly these days. Patience is a virtue that does not happen overnight and this was one area I was so pissed off with...
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I Remember... The Kiddie Years

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… I was an insecure kid. I hated my dark complexion and my thick, curly, unruly hair. I was green with envy whenever I saw girls my age with baby-soft, milky-white skin and silky-straight hair. … I was frustrated with my dimple-less cheeks. Once, in my desire to have dimples just like my best friend Eric, I used the tip of an inkless pen and daily pressed it against my right cheek. (For a time, I could see that my constant pressing produced a hollow. Unfortunately, I couldn’t bear the pain I had to endure daily for this beauty regimen, so I threw the pen and the idea of a bedimpled face out of my mind.) -- I wanted to be a majorette and dancer like my best friend Lala, a singer like my lady-like classmate Jolica, and a declaimer like my cutie childhood chum Eric. … I was as thin as thin could be. The irony was, I never believed I was. I even resorted to reciting a poem during a nutrition month celebration when I was on the third grade, proudly delivering the following lines: ...
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