and UV resistant
your dishes are safe with me
visited *loading* times
1. I dreamt this morning that I saw four planets in broad daylight: Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn.
2. Not with my naked eyes though, nor with a telescope. The images were "projected" through a dish, like a satellite dish - something shiny and fancy, into the day sky.
3. I had to stretch, stand on tiptoe and crane my neck in order to see the planets. I was thrilled. I remember calling on my mother so that she could see them too while I was at it.
4. She did not want to take a look, it seemed. When I went back to watch again, I found that the dish had been broken into pieces.
5. Now I smell of burnt fried garlic.
6. I'm craving something vinegary.
Intense, intense, intense! That's all I can say. The guy plays the piano like a man possessed. His passion is evidenced in the way he strokes the keys, how his sweat-slick hair tosses as he moves, how his eyes gently roll back as a note fades out...
Today I went to see my mom in the school where she teaches.
(It’s the same school where I grew up, where my mother spent most of the nine months that she carried me in her womb, the same school I began to wander around in, if not home, as soon as I could walk (at 10 months). It’s the same school where my parents, aunts and uncles met their would-be long-time friends. It’s the same school where all of my siblings and most of my cousins learned their alphabets, numbers and more. It’s the same school where most people I know from this town went.)
When I went in, I was surprised to find that the flooring on the corridors of the intermediate building (where I spent the last three years of elementary school) had been tiled. It used to be plainly cemented I would assume, with years of having it waxed and scrubbed making it the red-smooth/slippery-shiny floor that I knew.
It is just the most recent of the changes this school has seen since I left more than ten years ago. New classrooms have been erected on the grounds where we (classmates and I) used to cultivate beans, peanuts, mustard greens, okra, eggplant, tomatoes and radishes; a multi-purpose covered court has been built on a fraction of the open field where we used to play; the former ninety-degree intermediate building has been made into a square, enclosing the old quadrangle whose stage that used to head north now heads west. A number of my former teachers, great teachers, have retired. New teachers have been called to fill the vacancies. I’m sure there are more changes, big and small, drastic and subtle. How does one condense 10 years in a paragraph?
As I walked on the tiled flooring feeling weird (and for a second "feeling" the tiles underneath my flip-flops for fear that I might slip), I caught a hint of the perennial scent of freshly-sharpened pencils in the air. It was the same scent that used to greet me in the early mornings, also the scent that used to walk me to the school gates in the afternoons. And through all the changes, tiles and all, I knew that this was still the same school that for 12 years was my second home, the nurturing womb outside my mom’s. And for that, I feel safe and cared for whenever I’m there.
120 jumping jacks on an otherwise lethargic night can make one pass out and dream of Mozart.
What's that tune? It sounds so familiar.
First thing this morning I went through my meager collection of classical music and learned it was Piano Sonata #11 in A major (last movement) I had dreamed of. I won't attempt to read anything profound into it. I'll just take it as a sign of sorts that I should go see that piano concert I have been trying to decide on, by all means, with or without company. Fifteen days to go.
today
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