Done with La Dolce Far Niente

La dolce far niente | Photo taken here.

I woke up today ready to work. Yesterday, I relished la dolce far niente, which is Italian for "the sweetness of doing nothing." Yeah I got that from Eat Pray Love, my lazy Saturday afternoon movie choice (hence the photo of Julia Roberts eating pizza in Italy).

I'm ready to work on my take home paper work, fill out my Spanish VISA requirements, and edit the letters my mom needs.

Go go go!

Why is loneliness more inspiring than happiness?

Shots! Shots! Shots | Photo take here.

 
Why is loneliness so much more inspiring than happiness?

So so so much more.

Why is that?

...that when I am brimming with joy, I would much rather ramble and jump like a kangaroo than dig deep into my soul pockets and create something.. something worthwhile.

I remember back in grade school, I was a member of our school's literary club and I remember writing so many poems and prose and essays every time my best friend and I would fight, or every time I got bullied, or every time I'd feel like an idiot when I flunk a quiz after studying the night before, or every time I would I get scolded by my parents. These poems, at that time, were what I considered my best work. In fact, three of the many got published. In fact, those three published poems were key to helping pass the high school of my choice.

Why can't happiness do the same?

Why can't happiness be just as inspiring?

And why is it that when we're lonely, a hollow seems to form inside our stomachs?

In mine at least. A hollow that I want to fill with booze! And every time I do, every time I oblige, I still do not fill out the hollow. Why is it that the booze can never fill the hollow (me) in my stomach enough to let me surface out of loneliness? And yet, I keep drinking it, knowing all too well that it will not get better in the morning, that the hangover will only worsen it.

Lonely, lonely, lonely.

Happy Birthday Daddy!

My Dad resembles Christopher de Leon | Photo taken here.

On my Dad's birthday, my siblings and I granted my Mom's request to serve in mass. You see, my folks lead a community of Christian couples and serve mass every Thursdays. As fate would have it, my Dad's birthday fell on a Thursday and thus, my Mom's request. We obliged, of course.

I was the lector. My sister read the First Reading; my bro, the Responsorial Psalm; and Mom and Dad, the Prayers of the Faithful. I felt like we were the Von Trapp family minus the singing, of course.

The simple things make my parents happy these days—conversations over meals, long drives, overnight trips, movie getaways, skype with my sister. Family activities that seem so elusive these days with our crazy schedules in the office or in school.

For the longest time, my folks have been suggesting that my siblings and I help them serve in mass just like our cousins do in Guam. And for the first time, though incomplete (dear Madrid, you're damn lucky to be with my beautiful sister), we finally did it. Never mind that I felt out of place, what mattered to me was the joy I gave to my parents, especially on my Dad's birthday.

Love you Dad!