My Weblog

Conscience

     At age nine and growing up in Besao, a village nestled at the side of the Cordillera Mountains in Northern Philippines, my friends and I would gather in the evenings to exchange stories, or just chat, gossip and plainly just have fun childish stuff. Having nothing else to do in those times and side of the globe - no video, no TV, no movies, it was just about the only fun thing to do. Nothing biggie either, we just sit on some polished stones used as pavers in someone's front yard with our sheets or blankets wrapped around us - climate was never hot that I know of in those days-and enjoy the evening.

     So one evening, it was full moon, my friends: Anna, Patricia and Nena gathered at the yard of this vacant house. The usual thing, chatted, laughed, gossiped, giggled and wildly dreamed about life. I recall, perhaps we were not into boys yet, as I don't think we discussed boys, and crushes, and the mystery of sex.

     In the midsts of all the hoop-las, this girl Nena fell asleep and snored like a pig. I remember asking my self how could she sleep through this. I myself wanted time to stand still. I was having fun. And she was sleeping.

     Time came when we had to each go home as the following day was a school day and we knew better not to spend all night having fun-we could easily do so.  To punish Nena, we decided to not wake her up and leave her.

     At home, I could not sleep thinking of her. There's this bolt in my head to do something. So I got up and walked back to the place. It was still moonlight, the sky was clear and the air was fresh. It was weird, almost had an aura on me.

    When I reached the place, Nena was in the same position we left her - vertical, her head against the galvanized iron wall of the house, snoring. I woke her up and told her what we did. She was a nice girl, did not get mad. In fact to this day, remembering her, she has a lukewarm personality-not the kind who can get upset. Or perhaps she was mad but kept to herself.

     Of course I was able to get to bed and sleep after wards.

     Years rolled on like sea of oats, and we all became adults, with children. I left the place after becoming a nurse to live somewhere, same place I remember we talked about that evening. Anna became a successful businessman and later on as an adult went back to law school. Patricia got married early, never left the place and had eight children.

     Whatever happened or happening to us? Patricia died early, I believe at age 43. Anna died before she reached 50 and never had a chance to pass the bar. Nena is successfully living with her family at the next town and working as a government employee. And for me, retrospectively, I am glad my conscience bothered me.

     Now, here's yours truly putting our story...in print.

Today is the day...

Today, I got an email my blog is being suspended, and I realized I discontinued the credit card I was using, but I quickly jumped back with another horse.

Today is labor day, I suppose I should labor, I neglected my blog, a blog I write for myself and for lost souls. Speaking of lost souls and almost lost souls, where are you? I did not hear from you for so long, are you in Georgia? Golly, so long... more than a month. Phillip at least called me and we talked about poems, and publishing, and painting, and sketching.

Today, our neighborhood is mourning the untimely passing of our former neighbor and friend Joe. May He Rest In Peace. He passed away and it's still speculation as to how. Some said he had a heart attack, but we are not sure. And their home phone only takes messages. But it's one of those, he's talking to you and next minute he is gone kind of thing. His passing, though I have seen deaths many times (in line with my work) once again made me review my mortality. I told my husband, what one should do-that's what I do anyway, talk to your soul and tell it to live longer. Line up goals or things you want to accomplish for your remainder of your life and let your soul know. I tell my soul: "please let me live so I can finance my son finish a career, so I can raise funds for the Igorot scholarship, so I can make sure my siblings are not being taken advantaged of due to their being easily prey to unscrupulous people, so I can write a book of howtos, so I  can go to University of Iowa and take up MFA, etc." I talk to my soul every moment. Try it, there's no nothing to lose and will only help your longevity

Today is a busy day, catching with the bills, sorting them out and writing checks. I am overbilled and I hope, the house, we are trying to sell will sell but I doubt it. Real estate problem anywhere, nothing is selling. And it's a vicious cycle here in South Florida when it comes to real estate, taxes are high due to the rise in property values the last two years, insurance are sky high due to hurricanes, and now that housing values declined, them taxes remain high, they don't decline. It's so unfair.

Today, I recall this lady in her high seventies, just had a face lift in 2003, a tummy tucks in 2005 and enthusiastically told me the name of her "very able" plastician. "Her belly was flabby" she said so she had a belly up. How much did it cost you, I asked. "$7700" she said. I said, "man, I have  a chance then." "Sure" she says. Then I remember my friend Nancy, who had a tummy tucks and showed me her belly, it felt like a board. Weird. To a lover, I wonder how he'd feel making it out with a board. Golly, it's okay, I think, I'll keep my soft ball.

Today, I mopped my floor and felt like I tread milled at "4" for an hour. I really mulled it. And soon as the floor was dry my husband says "I'll take the dog for a walk" and while he was leashing it, it peed on my clean floor. Man, you can't win. So they say.

More next time.

Poetry Reading

As always, it was fun seeing you all, poets, at the Poetry Reading at the Wellington Barnes and Noble this evening. My friend Marilyn is great, isn't she? She writes short and sharp poems, and amazingly she could easily memorize them. I wish I could do that. I just don't have that gift, she has it. I guess that's what people with super high IQ are, she has an IQ of 160. She said, she can read a novel and can memorize the first two chapters. The kid, Steven, he writes well, and hopefully, he'll keep coming to our group and keep reading his poems. My poems, the ones I read are silly - so cliched, all about love, doubt and hope, except "Heaven" and Convergence."  I like Bob's, long but fun and interesting, contrary to some of Olives "story poem." Looking forward for next Wednesday. I really love this group, our congregating outside with the cool comfortable breeze and discussing poetry - we are now becoming more and more cohesive! (Grin)

March of Life

Just like Sharon Aulds writing her poem "First Sex", who cares... But I care if you care. The words- the poetic words, I inject them into my brain and let them stay there. I'll remember them whenever I am at exotic places. I'll morph like them. Become unknown, waiting to be discovered, the rain I form is pure, and cool, and when the sun shines and sucks the dew, I become green. Dressed with chlorophyll, I feel the vibration as it pricks and the bliss like that felt when the organs are playing in church at a wedding and the bride is marching.

I'm marching towards you, very slow, planned, and with upward spiritual velocity. I see you from a distant with a light that's becoming bigger and bigger. I'm now meeting the light, but my path is tangled with weeds, and vines, I can't get through. I can see your  shadow forming opn the ground like a discarded black shirt, speading and curling.. It's getting cooler.You are icing. Till you thaw, I think I'll just hide behind the icy wall. I'm better off here.

Life

There are days when you know, you have a ton of stuff to do, but you can't motivated yourself, and all you do is write, write, write. Like me, I should be cleaning my house, doing laundry, gardening, and calling friends but no, I'd rather be here in the computer, and in the Internet connecting with the world.

While connecting with the world via yahoo, I learned about the Mr. Tobias, quitting his job as the Administrator for the US Agency in International development. Most Filipinos are familiar with "USAID." I remember when I was in Manila, I was going out with a Civil Engineer who worked at the DPH and he use to show projects funded by USAID. And I don't don't if there are still projects in the Philippines being funded by this agency. Anyway, this guy's fault is he was involved with an Escort Services." Poor guy, it's another one of those. salacious and malicious happening.  Every time, we turn the page in yahoo, there's something. Anyway what's next.

It's still beautiful her in Palm Bach County, not hot yet, but wait till July comes, it'll be like a steaming oven. But for now, it's paradise. Even though we know,there be many more hurricane, hopefully, none will pass over my house - always everybody's prayer-not in my own backyard.  So now, we are debating which one to spend money for, the pool or hurricane shutter. We never have hurricane shutter but the last hurricane, a branch scudded to our window and shattered it to pieces. Luckily, we were home. We, the three of us, held with force against the wall a piece of plywood until the fury of the wind passed. It was scary, at this slice of time, ti was like Armageddon.

One reason, I think,when we are not motivated is when all we do is think, and think, of someone dear to us. In my case, a dear friend is in Europe, and I find myself missing him, and thinking of him all the time. Which is crazy. My dear friend Marilyn, a retired Psychiatrist in her 70's is in love with a man, and when I see her eyes and her facial expression of love like that of a teenager, I think, "is this what I'm going to look forward to." If it is , not bad ha!

     Spirits

They are here with us

like church bell on the hills

ringing angelus

for the village folks

waiting for the miners

hurrying home

down the graveled streets

along bunkhouses

with clothes drying

in balconies

among the empty barrels

children play

hide and seek

while a lady with a fruit basket

hollers "banana, pineapple, guava"

to the lines of doors. Housewives

stick their neck the way turtles

do to glimpse on the world

we ply hopscotch

sometimes with the girl with

a cleft palate and raspy voice

Drowning through the sunset

we like It to stay

but the pull is stronger

on the other side.

            Tears

When you shared your lines I

thought, I got a ticket to ride

but now I think I'm wrong. and

when the message board is empty

I realized all the more

I'm wrong

I'm under clear blue skies

but it's sinister

blocked by your emptiness

Your words intertwined

in mine, I am trying my very

best to forget, but, it

takes tears, oily tears perhaps

like gasoline to tar stain.

       Impatient

Can't wait for the time when I

sit beside you, feeling the

energy emerging from your

body like smoke from boiled rice

Can't wait for the time I cast a smile

at you and you look at me

with no meaning, yet I can

figure out what's in your mind

Can't wait to talk to you about

my poem I wrote when my spirit

is at sea level and the sun quit

shining but I molded a seed

Then I would feel my heart thomping

bringing my blood pressure at a sea

level, my brain unable to think

well and the only thought is you

My Son's Birthday

My son turned 18 today, and to celebrate, we went to the Outback Restaurant here in Royal Palm Beach.  We had a great time discussing life. We reminisced about how it all begun: the day we went to pick him up at the hospital where he was born, the way we held his long and skinny fingers and telling our selves, "he'll be so tall." He is 6' 5'' now, and how amazing it really is, how a little tinny one to grow up a giant. Reminds you of the cub growing up to be a lion.

We asked him if he remembers the day when we were on our way to Indiana to visit my husband's family, we were lodged for the night in some hotel in Kentucky when he started saying " home mommy" He wanted us to go home after perhaps finding out that the hotel room is unfamiliar.Tried to destract him but nothing worked, and he gradually increased his decibel till he bloody screamed "go home mommy." He was having an anxiety attack. The next room occupants obviously called the desk and they in turned called us to make sure were were okay. "No," my son does not remember.

It sure feels good, even as a mother to reminisce those days, the good old days! Like the vacation out west, to Las Vegas, riding the roller coaster at the top floor of the Stratosphere, the Grand Canyon and driving across the dessert passing by Needles, California at 117 degrees. And riding the wooden roller coaster in Santa Cruz, California.

Now, he is 18 and graduating high school, and pretty soon will be away to school, out of town. And I hate to think of this, but sooner or later will be marrying and be having his own family. And then I will really say, "where have all the days been gone." For today, it seemed, it was only yesterday when I, wearing a yellow polka dot dress trying to buckle our baby in his car seat facing the back of the car and husband video taping each move. "We need a recording we'd say." Those are the days, just some of the so many days which are now memories. But are elements of the past I cling to when I'm sad, and in so many, many ways, I find inspiration from!

Today's Poems

     Feeling

I must tell you how I feel

thinking of you in between

a ton of stuff to do

wondering

if you are thinking

what I am thinking

And if you are writing a poem

what is your pulse beat

is it love

is it infatuation

that might fade away someday

thinking back: what was I

thinking

is it love or infatuation

and when you write a poem

if you are thinking about

the words I would lay

on the page like a beige

satin sheet on a bed

if I were to rewrite your poems?

The Clearing

             The Clearing

There's a clearing growing orange sweet potatoes

and yellow corn. Below, near a creek are

banana plants and wild red flowers

with long leaves and purple veins

The creek runs with crystal clear water

sometimes with flowing dried leaves and white roots

flowing like a fairy's hair, and white bubbling water

gushing gently like a swaying baby crib

And there's a bush with green sour fruits

with white seedy meat, when peeled are

good to eat at hot weather, and also white lilies,

when crump-led are like blisters from bites of spiders

I think of this place each time I'm sad

remembering being with my sister

carrying seedlings of rice plants on our heads

walking gracefully along the rice paddies on bare feet

with the December wind blowing our skirts

and our long hairs. I think of her pearly smile

but sadly recalling the grayness of her breathless face.

This clearing is where I go to be with her

Connection

     Greetings! I'm not dead, I am just, sort of like a mouse that found it's niche in the corner of a granary and enjoyed gnawing on it's catch. But then all of whatever is eaten and it's gone. I suppose that's true with every one. We come and go. Like the volcano, we rise out of the ocean floor at sometime, and that time though indefinite, is still a time. Like us humans, our time comes. Sorry, if I am losing you. The Editor or the critic like Fran from my Poetry Workshop will think I'm crazy and would say, "what are you talking about?, you lost me."

     Please Google my name "Jocelyn Noe" and click on the "Poets of the Palm Beaches". In it, you'll read my winning poem "Escape," first placer for the January 2007 Poets of the Palm Beaches monthly competition. It was inspired by a scene from a movie I saw when I was about four years old. Additionally, I had been writing poems - a bunch of them  compiling them in my PC. Oh lately, I visited Poetry.com and posted a poem. The title is "Beyond The Far Horizon." So those of you who have time to crack with your PC's, try googling "poetry.com" and type in my name as the "poet's name." The first in the series of my poems, is this one. I like the poem my self, it's sweet and dreamy. Some of the poems, I've written lately are salacious and can make you water. Someday, I'll share them, when it's appropriate, through a book perhaps.

     I hate to feel down but sometimes, we feel this way. You work things out with someone and then finding they are really not interested with you. Or after, or despite positive insinuations, you find yourself not any more than a piece of rag near the computer for dusting purposes.Then you look back and realize and find your position in the universe. In my case, it's not in the middle. I'm in the edge, when it comes to self esteem.

     Despite, being blue, the volcano will still rise out of the blue Ocean. So at least, I have something to look forward to. And so do some of you who might be in the same rocking ship.

     As far as connecting with my tribe "The Igorots," I try to squeeze computer time with them through the website BIBAKNETS and Igorotnet, and having fun interacting. To the Boonduck blooger, I read your blog, and so I know who is who are the Igorot achievers. And once again, let me tell you, I'm so honored for your selecting me as the no. 13 top Igorot achiever. I hope folks realize that I'm not just a poet hiding in Palm Beach County's rich Community who have a book published. I'm here far away from the baseline - the Cordilleras, but my heart and spirit is near you all (Igorots). I see the mountains, the rivers, and the winding stony trail. I find inspirations from it's vast wild, sharp and strong culture.