Saturday - December 17, 2005
Women on the brink of bad videoke.
She makes light of it, but a girl in the office has
parted ways with someone whom she thought was "it," and now drinks almost every
night and is too agreeable to smoke breaks. Last night she had a death grip on
the Magic Sing videoke. I like her; she is sprightly, and smart, and her sarcasm
is tempered by smileys. I don't think she'll work out for a regular Filipino
male on the lookout for "sweet, simple and sincere." She has too many interests
of her own, and I would hate to see those submerged in laundry and demands for
more frequent fawning.
I've had my share of bad breakups. They have almost always involved tears and the trivializing of edged kitchen utensils, which no doubt contributed to my sister's opinion of me as unstable. There are times I wonder if it was all just source material, life in a deliberately hysterical key, to be replayed in a few lines of poetry, or perhaps an ink drawing with blood-clot smudges.
Those men certainly seem inconsequential now. If women spent less time in pursuit of seersucker love and white picket fences, and more on cultivating their own intellectual and emotional genius, then we wouldn't need such snidely-condescending classifications as "Women's Literature." Romance has its place. Preferably a small one, well-maintained but not lavish, at the corner of Common Sense and Self-Esteem.
I've had my share of bad breakups. They have almost always involved tears and the trivializing of edged kitchen utensils, which no doubt contributed to my sister's opinion of me as unstable. There are times I wonder if it was all just source material, life in a deliberately hysterical key, to be replayed in a few lines of poetry, or perhaps an ink drawing with blood-clot smudges.
Those men certainly seem inconsequential now. If women spent less time in pursuit of seersucker love and white picket fences, and more on cultivating their own intellectual and emotional genius, then we wouldn't need such snidely-condescending classifications as "Women's Literature." Romance has its place. Preferably a small one, well-maintained but not lavish, at the corner of Common Sense and Self-Esteem.