This blog turned a year old last September and I didn’t even notice it!
It started year ago when my older brother gave me a Pentium 1 PC. That was the first time I had a PC. (Most of my computing experience was through document printing when I used to work as a copier operator.) So, when I found out that the word processors can check grammars and spelling, I began writing anything I can think of. I had this Doogie Howser M.D. fantasy.
Then the Pentium 1 PC died. My brother, who is a newly commissioned missionary bound for Thailand, gave me another PC, this time it’s a Pentium 2. So, I continued doodling on the computer. I began writing stupid poems and some compositions—it’s really just writing exercises. Of course the ancient Pentium 2 computer died a few weeks later also.
When my brother was already in Thailand, I began thinking of sending these poems and compositions to him and to some people I know, I even sent some of them to my sister’s best friend, an editor not because I want to have them published (my gulay!) but to ask for help on writing. I kept sending them, so maybe, my older brother had pity on me so he asked his eldest son Jared to create a blog for his miserable uncle. And that’s what how I got this blog.
Thinking back, one thing I got from this blog was freedom. I have so many questions about theology; in this blog, I was able to express them. These are things I dare not talk about openly with my pastors for fear of being called heretic. But as I ask these questions here, I realized that by simply expressing them I had this sense of release and relief. Also by reading other theology blogs (especially Adventures in Div. Dchool) (I gotta to meet wonderful Christians too!)I realized that people have similar questions and some even have proposals that borders on the bizaare. My theological angst has lost its steam, thanks to this blog. There will be more theological reflections and questions on this blog but they will not be as venomous as they were before. I tend to think that I am growing up, theologically speaking.
How about those angry, sarcastic, offensive things I wrote here. I can’t explain them and I will not defend them. Most are done in bad taste and some are just plain stupid. But like what I said before, these angst, if they are not expressed in this blog, could become pimples or boils or they may give me diarrhea and sore eyes.
Most of the time I wondered what would the people who read this blog think of its author and I will not be surprised if they think that its author is a schizophrenic or crazy or a Satanist or an egotist or something. All I can say is, I found a way to be free and it’s in here (and in my Filipino blog) so just have fun reading because who knows you maybe reading yourself (or not) here the same way I can read myself from other people’s blog.
It’s all about experiences and how people experience the same things but in different perspectives, that’s the fun with blogging.
It’s like omniscience…nahhh…that’s for another post.
Why “That Strange Feeling”?
My brother used the title of the poem I sent him as the title for the blog. He told me that I can change it but I did not change it because somehow it captured what this blog would be all about…hmmm… which is really all about nothing. Here’s that strange poem.
“That Strange Feeling”
This was how it felt,
And I’m telling you I didn’t add more or take less
For this was indescribable and only a full story
Is what would do justice and nothing less.
After I swallowed the bitter medicine, and drank my cup of water
I suddenly felt ticklish like a feather was in my underwear
And I felt altitude as if riding on a Ferris wheel
Going down, from up, exhilaration was what I felt
The tickling was unbelievable and my heart was murmuring
I dread seeing but I can’t help feeling
The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering,
And the bees in my heart were buzzing
Sitting, waiting, and my buttocks were itching,
Stand, walk, trot, and run to make time fleeting,
What’s more killing than my anxiety
To pull and see what was bothering me.
They were all there as far as I can tell,
All my siblings, mother, father, and the neighbors as well
They were all expecting for something to happen
It’s like their waiting for the launching of Apollo eleven
At last I can’t take it no more, I cried out, Father, it is a fore’
A torn newspaper and baby oil, my father, pulled it a sure’
And I’m cutting this story short, for I don’t want to be gross
‘Cause what I’m here tellin’ was the effect of my first dose
Of that medicine called combantrin!
And I’m sure you know what Im tellin’