Tina Fey’s Prayer

From her books Bossypants, this part had me in stitches. But, it could be any sane mother’s prayer for sure.

 

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

”My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.”

 

 

 

Date a Girl who Reads

Found this in a blog called NOVELR (Google it!) ages ago but I didn’t have the chance to share it then. So here it is, the text in parenthesis are mine. If you’re also a GIRL WHO READS (and writes) then by all means, copy, paste, insert your own side comments and share! 🙂

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. (ME = Guilty! :-))Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.(Again, guilty! I always have two books actually – my Bible and another which is most likely bought from a secondhand bookshop)She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.(Oh-kay, so we’re freaks like that. LOL)

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.(I think this is really sweet. It takes a lot to actually consent to being ignored because someone’s too focused on a book :-p)

Let her know what you really think of Murakami.(Murakami is an aquired taste. It takes awhile to get the hang of the style and imagery. Sputnik Sweetheart did it for me :-))See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent.(Personally though, I wouldn’t go so far as saying I read AND understand something I really didn’t. I can’t fake intellect that way :-p)Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.(I love the Red Queen :-p)

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries.(Yes, please :-)) Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. (Check. Anything from my still incomplete Fiction/By Author collections na lang. Ask me! Hehe :-))Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. (Nope, sorry. Lying is a deal breaker for me :-))

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.(Okay, just up to a certain degree and limit. I am also not that patient. We may love and enjoy a little drama here and there but Girls who read are not idiots.)

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.(If a guy tells me he likes these books, I will find a mirror real fast and check if I have been mistaken for a boy again. A guy who can provide spirited discourse on Bella, Edward and Jacob is way up there in the category of guys who say “Bora”, “Thingie” and “Work-out tayo, Dude”. Minus 50 pogi/macho points, pards.)

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.(So true.)

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.(Hehehe)

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes.(I would love this :-))She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. (Definitely! And name future pets after them, too. Haha) You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.(These moments are reserved for the truly worthy.)

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes. (I concur :-))”

I have always been drawn to the intellectual, bookworm types, the kind who can quote from books they’ve read and willingly discuss what they really thought of what they’ve just read. So, it’s a wonder how at one point not too long ago I actually was involved with someone who maybe considerably smart but doesn’t read much, and therefore never quite understood my passion for books, and never appreciated my need to write, even if a good part of what I wrote during that period was for/about him.

Anyway, I think men who like to read are hot. You girls can have the hunks and the super-sikat celebrities, but I prefer those who, for example, either has a deep appreciation for Neil Gaiman or can devour John C. Maxwell books along with his System Engineering tomes. (so can anyone guess who might be on my mind here? Haha). There’s something cute and endearing about a man who suddenly inserts a hifalutin big word while you’re comparing Cadbury or Oreo McFlurries, or randomly mentions something from a book he read while you beat the rush hour traffic by playing license plate poker.

Someone like that’s hard to come by these days, though. Buti na lang, books are aplenty pa rin. 🙂

Love is…

I wouldn’t claim, ever, that I can understand everything Margaret Attwood wrote, but this one’s from my favorite Cta’s Eye 😉

“Love is obsession, with undertones of nausea.”

that is what’s love supposed to be, and i tell myself that like a mantra. I repeat the words to myself fervently. I feel its harshness from the hot air coming out of my mouth as i utter each syllable. Coarse and hot as the sun at midday.

I think about my soles burning…

Daytime strolls under the sun, so seductively sweet, peeling my skin.

I’ll paint an ugly image of burnt soles… with hopes that it will drive away any thought of you.

You, in all your god-like glory.