Question 0001

Technology has become a part of us. Would you rather lose the use of all motorized vehicles, all telecommunication devices and computers, or one of your hands?

~

Well I definitely don’t want to lose any of my hands. Technology is something that’s man-made. Something that maybe, if given some time and training, I can also invent for myself. My hands are different. They are gifts. They are unique. They are my language, my comfort, and sometimes my only friend. They are me. And the thought of losing even one is somehow unthinkable…



Which is why I really admire, and is personally blessed, with this person:

"I may not have the hands to hold my wife's hand, but when the time comes, I'll be able to hold her heart."

~ Nick Vujicic

When it comes down to it, it's not really about choosing which you would rather lose or gain... It's about what you were given, and how you're gonna use it.

~

The Book of Questions by Gregory Stock, Ph.D

Seasons of You

Spring

I saw you and I felt something in me come to life. It has been a long winter and I’ve gotten used to the cold routine of hiding inside the igloo I built around myself, minding my own business. Seeing you made me want to break my walls of ice so you could see me. So I did. And then life began to catch up on me.

Summer

You saw me and I began to feel the warmth. We started exchanging glances until it wasn’t enough to just look. You made your way to me, and my heart opened up and bloomed for you. All things were bright and beautiful, but none of them compared to you.

Fall

You saw her and I felt the end of summer. One by one, your fingers let go of mine like withered leaf falling from your branch. My heart reached the ground numb and broken. You stepped on me like some worthless thing and left just like that.

Winter

I saw you with her and I just died. I looked away as shards of ice filled my soul. I found a place where you would never go, and there started building my new wall. One that’s thicker and sturdier.  This will be a longer winter. I just know.

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Mid-Season Replacement

Stranger in my own home

Hey Dad,

You said that I’ve grown too proud to treat you with respect. “Is it because you’ve achieved so much that you’re now thinking so little of me?” You asked, and I was caught off-guard. I have never ever thought of it that way.

You have always been my inspiration to get better. When you’re not happy with my performance, I always try to get better. I studied so hard, so you can have a daughter to be proud of. I got in your dream university for me. I finished the degree you chose for me with excellence. I got a job in a bank, and have been promoted thrice within my five years in the corporate world. I enrolled in graduate school and now I’m just two terms away from getting a diploma. It was all for you and mom.

I don’t know how you got the idea that I’m looking down on you, because all my life I have always looked up to you. It hurts that you think I’m getting too proud when all I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me.

After hearing those words from you, I felt lost. I don’t know what I’m striving for anymore.

Each passing minute I feel more and more like a stranger in this house. Only this room is sheltering me from the pain that I’m sure to feel when I get out and see your disappointed face again.

I don’t want to get out, because if I do I might not come back. It just doesn’t feel like I fit in here anymore. Maybe you’re right… maybe I’m too big and too old for this place.

If I leave, the TV set’s all yours and I know you’ll be happier.

I’m sorry for disappointing you. It seems that’s the only thing I’m good at.

Top 5 Reasons Why I Agreed To This Date

So you found my picture on my best friend’s phone and you asked for my number. You started sending me messages, which I entertained, and yesterday you asked for a date. I’m pretty sure you’ll ask why I agreed right away, so I prepared the top five answers I’ve given from my repertoire of previous dates and I’ll just pick one when I get to see your face.

5. I’m single… but I’m not interested.

Oops. Well this is my most frequently used response so don’t feel so dejected. I can say this even before you ask for the menu, or maybe a little after I get to know you better (at this age, I’m really trying to loosen my standard, so this is more likely), or, if your purse appears to be thick, I may just choose to enjoy this dinner before breaking the bad news. Of course before you leave I’ll say “it’s not you, it’s me.”

4. I’m single… well, not really.

So let’s say that I feel you don’t deserve answer #5. Answer #4 means I want to give you a little test.

If I tell you that my current relationship is not working out, how will you respond? If you advise that I break up with him and give you a chance, I might just insert #5 into the conversation. Sorry, I hate relationship wreckers. But if you tell me to think it through and try to work it out (and still offer to pay the bill though you clearly won’t benefit from it) then I just might call you a few days after tonight. Or maybe tomorrow.

3. I’m single… finally.

This response will be triggered if you start telling me about your exes and why you broke up with them. I don’t want to feel like I have a standard to follow (though I’m sure there’s a standard that I want you to follow), and that I have an obligation to please you if we decide to take this first date further. So I’ll tell you that like you, I just went through a though relationship, and as of the moment… (insert #5).

2. I’m single… again.

I probably liked you. This answer means I’m comfortable with answering personal questions from you. I rarely use this response because it reveals so much about me, and I don’t want to appear vulnerable on a first date.

If you get answer #2, I’m probably the one who’ll wait for a call after tonight.

1. I’m single… still.

This is actually more honest than response #2. If I’m fine with being single, then I will not agree on meeting you in the first place. You just have to figure that out.

Truth is, I’ve been too focused on my career, and I’m too independent for my own good. I tend to intimidate men with how smart I am, and that’s unintentional.  I swear.

Think you can break the wall?

I actually hope you do. 

~ 

For Readwave Writing Challenge: Top 5

Acoustic

The curtains are drawn and I hear the soft applause as I appear before the audience. It is a beautiful night for music of the purest kind – bare and unplugged. I walk towards the center where the microphone awaits, wearing the simple flowing red dress that I picked specifically for this event.

I hear you strum the acoustic guitar you love and my heart beats fast.

This song is for you.

“It’s amazing how you

Can speak right through my heart.

Without saying a word,

You can light up the dark…” 

“Try as I may I can never explain

What I hear when you don’t say a thing…”

Perhaps I chose this song to let you know what you are to me. The light at the end of my tunnel. The silver lining of my dark cloud. The pot of gold at my rainbow’s end.

I see their dreamy smiles as they listen to my gentle voice, but I can picture only one smile in my mind.

Yours.

“The smile on your face

Lets me know that you need me.

There’s a truth in your eyes

Saying you’ll never leave me”

I close my eyes and dream of you. If only I can run to you once this song is over. If only no one would mind…

But they do. They are all watching us.

“The touch of your hand

Says you’ll catch me…”

So we only have this moment. We only have this song. Each note you make is a key to my soul.  Let’s savor this while the lights are low.

“You say it best

When you say nothing at all.”

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Bloggers, Unplugged

I'm Here, I Got You

I remember that summer when the entire family from my father’s side spent a few days together on the beach. I was five years old, and it was the first time my toes met the sand. I danced under the sun in my blue bathing suit and pink goggles.

I watched as my older cousins built sand castles, and tried to build my own, only it was too close to the waves and was washed away. I tried to make another one but my cousins decided to play another game. They covered my body with sand until it was too heavy and itchy that I cried.

Afraid that my mom would hear me crying, they removed the sand from my body and ran into the waves to swim. I sat and watched them, wishing I could swim too.

“C’mon J, let’s swim,” my father said as he brushed the sand off my hair.

“I don’t know how to,” I said.

“I know, now stand up so I can teach you.”

I stood and let him hold my hand and lead me to the waters.

It was surprising that the water was cold when the sand was warm. We walked deeper into the sea, and it was when the water reached my chest that I panicked.

“Relax J, imagine you’re just taking a bath with your rubber duckies,” he told me, and sat until we’re eye to eye.

“Now try to lift your legs and float on your stomach,” he instructed. “Don’t worry, Papa’s arms will hold you.”

I obeyed and tried to jump and land face down as I saw my cousins do. “Oops, careful,” he said as his arms caught me.

“Lift your chin, don’t swallow any saltwater, okay?”

“Okay,”

“Now practice kicking your legs,” I followed and smiled at the sound of water against my feet. “Straighten your legs, J, and point your toes out. That’s it. You’re doing well.”

I grinned. Piece of cake.

“Now try to move your arms, as if they’re your wings and you’re a beautiful butterfly.”

I did as told, and felt my body move against the water. I’m swimming!

“Great, J! Now, keep swimming, eyes always forward, chin always up.”

So I kept kicking my legs and moving my arms, until I felt something was missing. Dad’s not holding me anymore.

I stopped moving my legs in panic and tried to look back. I could not find him and I started to sink. “Papa–” I tried to shout, but saltwater entered my mouth and I could not breathe properly.

Then I felt his strong arms pull me up.

“It’s alright J, I’m here. I got you.”

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Exhale

That Yellow Sundress

When it comes to clothes I don’t have much of a choice. I let people clothe me as they please, as frequent as necessary. I’m a mannequin, so, you get the idea.

I was not born this way. I was once a charming young lady, in fact the most popular in our campus, thanks to my impeccable sense of style. I followed the latest fashion trends as a disciple would to a rabbi.

It was when I met this guy that everything changed.

He was a very poor boy, a scholar who works part time to support his education, and he was so in love with me. I knew it thanks to the creepy glances he kept giving me in class. I did not mind, I was used to the attention that I get from the boys. It’s just that no one’s good enough for me.

One day before the summer break, while I was having lunch with my girlfriends at the school cafeteria, this poor boy approached me, carrying three sunflowers that was obviously freshly plucked from the school garden. I heard my friends snigger while I was silently praying for an escape from the inevitable humiliation.

“Sundra, for you,” he said looking into my eyes, hand trembling while he offered me the flowers. I stood from my chair and took the sunflowers. He smiled before I slowly dropped them one by one to the floor, and stepping on their hideous yellow heads. I hated yellow.

“Girls, let’s get out of here,” I said and never looked back.

The next day I woke up in this state in this cheap clothing shop. I could feel and see everything, but I could not move. The first time that I let them undress me was the most terrifying day of my life. I cried inside, but the tears never came out. I had no idea how this happened to me.

On my third night as a mannequin, I saw the poor boy again. He entered the shop as if looking for something, and then he saw me and walked closer.

I could see the sadness in his eyes as his calloused hand reached for my face. “I’m so sorry Sundra, this is all my fault,” he said.

While the shop owner slept he slowly undressed me, eyes not leaving mine. He replaced my blouse and jeans with a yellow sundress from his satchel. I could feel his hands on my back as he zipped me up, his face so close to mine.

He gave my lips a soft kiss before he turned his back and left at the same time that the clock chimed. It was twelve midnight.

Slowly I felt life coming back to me. I could blink my eyes, flex my fingers, and move my legs. My first instinct was to run after the poor boy, but an invisible barrier hindered my foot from stepping beyond the shop’s door. I cried, as if I never felt tears before, until it was 5 am and I was a mannequin again.

That has been the cycle since then. Mannequin during the day, alive when it turns twelve.

Like now.

As the shop owner sleeps I remove my purple jumper and replace it with that yellow sundress he brought me. I walk by the door and wait for him to come back, as I have been doing since the night he left.

I know he will.

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: The Clothes (May) Make the (Wo)man

Q

Q is a letter from your name

Quote me now as I say

Quietly I spell it in my head

Quarter of a hundred times

Quit looking with those eyes

Queer, yet warm and kind

Quickly I’m melting as if you are

Quicksand

Quench my thirst for love

Quest your way to my heart

Quick, take my hand for now I am

Quixotic

Question me and I’ll answer

Quiver and I’ll keep you warm

Quake and I’ll steady you

Qualm no more

Queen will you be mine

Quell this restless mind

Quash my doubts, for if you don’t

Quitter I will become

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Fearful Symmetry

Dear Mr. Right,

Thank you for the second glance. I know that I’m not the type that one falls for at first sight… but then you looked back. For letting your eyes linger for five more seconds, thank you very much.

Thank you for the chai tea latte you sent via messenger while I was working during lunch break. I wasted fifteen minutes contemplating whether I should accept something from a stranger, but I drank it anyway. For knowing the only drink that can soothe my nerves, thank you very much.

Thank you for that first call. The shake in your voice was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, and I could not stop smiling. For insisting to drive me home that night because of the heavy rain, thank you very much.

Thank you for our first date. I ate half your share of the baby back ribs we ordered, and you’re okay with it. For saying that I’m the most beautiful while I see a chubby girl when I look at the mirror, thank you very much.

Thank you for our first kiss. It wasn’t my first, but it felt the most sincere. You said it was yours, and joked about you preferring men. For just rolling your eyes and giving me another kiss, thank you very much.

Thank you for the VIP ticket to the Backstreet Boys concert. I was able to touch Nick Carter’s hand and it was the best birthday gift ever. For not minding me playing their songs on repeat in your car, thank you very much.

Thank you for shaking my dad’s hand. I never told you, but he was so happy that I was able to bring a man home at last. For putting a stop to a series of hidden relationships, and being the first guy who’s not afraid to be scrutinized by my dad, thank you very much.

Thank you for buying flowers for my mom on mother’s day. She’s very hard to please, and the smile she gave you was priceless. You’ve managed to make her warm up to you and it made our relationship better. For making her happy in a way that I couldn’t, thank you very much.

Thank you for doing my brother’s homework. He’s smart enough on his own, but your lazy way of doing things surprisingly made him more efficient. For loving him as your own, thank you very much.

Thank you for last night’s fight. It was our eighteenth monthsary, and I ruined it by looking so tired. I told you that I needed a break, and you did not say a single word while driving me home. For embracing me and saying you love me before you leave, thank you very much.

I woke up this morning and decided to write you this letter.

I planned on ending this with a ‘goodbye,’ but looking back only made me realize how much I want this list to go on…

Like forever.

~

A response to Readwave Writing Challenge: Thank You

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September 28, 2016

I stare out the window, smiling as I stir my coffee. It’s a lovely Wednesday. Today marks my second anniversary in the company I’d been praying for since I started taking MBA classes, and my idea of celebration is to stay at home, sit by the window, and write.

Oh writing. I can still remember the day I started to blog and answer daily writing prompts. It was three years ago, at a time when I thought that nothing I say would matter. I was so lonely then, nursing a broken heart that I tried so hard not to acknowledge, only to realize that everything I wrote was related to it.

They say pain can either make or break you. What did it do to me? Both.

I remember feeling so broken that my mind refused to believe that there’s a cure. I remember thinking that I’d never be whole again, that each day of my life I’d walk carrying that empty cold space in my heart. It was frightening.

But then it made me a better person. The tears have somehow cleansed my eyes of all the illusion. The path became clearer. I began to learn who I really am – what I’m meant to do, and where I’m meant to go.

And since then I decided to live with purpose each day. To focus on what I have instead of what I don’t have. I found joy in cultivating my gifts, knowing that one can never stop learning.

With my determined spirit, I finished graduate school last August 2014. And while still happy with the company I was working for during that time, I decided to follow my heart and send my six-pager CV to the company of my dreams. And as you already know, I got in after a series of almost nervous breakdowns.

Life became easier since then, but I never stopped doing what I loved most – writing. From random blogging three years ago, words just flowed and I started submitting my works to editors and publishers. The day that one of my articles made it to print was the happiest day of my life.

Everything happened so fast since then.

And now, on the day that I decided to rest and reflect, I realize that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

Yes, partly because of my job and the success of my write-ups, but the main reason is that…

After three years of not feeling anything, I’m finally in love.

XX

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Ebb and Flow

We all know the story

Snow White

She barely had a bite of the poisoned apple when she fell to the ground, lifeless. For three days the seven dwarves mourned, and for her they made a coffin made of glass. Even then, she was the fairest of them all — white as snow, red as blood. In her deep sleep on a mountain in the woods, she waited for her prince to come and help her spit the poison from her mouth.

Sleeping Beauty

One who was both blessed and cursed. In her sixteenth year she pricked herself with a spindle, making her fall into a very deep sleep. The queen did everything for her to come back to life, but the misery only brought her to her grave. For a hundred years the princess waited in her dreams for a man with a pure heart to love her and break the spell with a kiss.

Cinderella

The mistreated one who was given a chance. In her beautiful disguise she was able to capture the heart of the prince, but the fear of him knowing the truth made her leave him with nothing but a shoe. News came that the prince was seeking for the shoe’s owner, and covered in cinder she waited for him to find her – the perfect fit.

Rapunzel

 The damsel in a high tower without a door. She had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold. Every day she would let down her hair for the enchantress, but in her heart she waited for a man to climb her walls and take her away.

Little Mermaid

The one who traded a tail and a tongue for two feet. With pain each day she danced with grace for the prince, waiting for the day that he’d fall for her and be granted an immortal soul.

Belle

Only Belle was different. She did not wait idly for some handsome prince to find her. She was the one who saved the Beast – the prince who was waiting for her to find him.

We all know the story.

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: A Bend in Time

Metamorphosis

Once, I was a very small cylindrical egg, laid on a leaf that my mother has chosen for me. I didn’t know anything about the world. I didn’t even have an idea of how I would look like, and what my purpose for living would be … until I hatched.

And I was so ugly, with wrinkles all over my body. Ever so slowly I learned how to crawl on the leaf that cradled me. I also learned how to eat of it.  Call me ungrateful, but that was the way I was supposed to live then. To absorb nourishment and become stronger. To prepare myself for the next stage, which I heard was the hardest.

Pupa. That’s what I am right now. Everything is dark, but I can feel the change happening inside of me. The pain of waiting is nothing compared to the excitement of what I am about to become. Something beautiful. Something of great value.  It’s about to happen any moment now... 

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The hiding is over.

I spread my wings and dance with the wind.

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Celebrate Good Times

The Tweak Fairy

I am the Tweak Fairy, a Love Specialist. You probably haven’t heard about me, but I’m positive we’ve met once or twice in your life. You’re not supposed to remember so don’t try.

I know Cupid is the famous one, but know that my job is very different from his. What he does is make random people fall for each other. Based on our study, the probability that a Cupidized love will last forever is only close to 45%. This is because hitting a heart with a charmed arrow and forcing it to love is not really the best foundation of a strong relationship. The heart will always yearn for its rightful pair.

Now, what does a tweak fairy do?

I create what you people call coincidence. I make serendipity happen for the right people. Remember when they say that there’s no such thing as coincidence? It’s true. Everything is bound to ensue.

Now, if an event is not going as smoothly as planned, I come and tweak the situation in order to maintain the order of things. And I am about to start a coincidence here at the Hearstrings Cafe.

Right now everything is still, as it always is whenever I wave my tweaking wand. No a trace of movement or sound. Only the crisp aroma of coffee and cinnamon remains, and I love it this way. Stillness is my strength.

 I walk soundlessly towards the table I’ve been watching for hours now. 

You see, I know a yearning heart when I see one, and it is the easiest to tweak. Creating the littlest opportunity, like simply setting the eyes to the right sight, is enough to make the yearning heart quicken. The case I’m in right now is the exact opposite.

The heart that no longer yearns is the hardest to tweak.

The people sitting at the table in front of me are Christof and Leidy. They are old friends who did not have the opportunity to see each other in the last fifteen years.

Leidy married Theo, a random dancer she met at a friend’s party, all thanks to Cupid. I was supposed to intervene but Cupid put me in a trance with his charm. That’s another story.

After giving her three beautiful children, Theo left her for another woman – his first love. And after her tears have all dried up, Leidy swore to not give love a chance again.

Christof, on the other hand, never married. He became so immersed in his writing career that left everything here for fame as a playwright in Paris. He made love with countless women, but none of them was able to touch his heart. He never gave love a chance.

On this fine day, Christof decided to visit the homeland he missed and here he found Leidy, sitting alone with a cup of jasmine tea while reading a tattered book. The Great Gatsby.

They were beyond happy for this serendipitous moment and I thought everything was working out.  To my great dismay, Leidy was back to Gatsby while Christof just stirred his coffee after a few hours of catching up.

This is not how it should be.

Without an intervention these two people will just part ways again, carrying their whole yet lifeless hearts with them. Leidy would find fulfilment in her children while Christof would find it in his plays. But in my integrity as a tweak fairy I won’t let that be.

They are made for each other. I just need to give it a little shake.

So now, while everything is still, I take Leidy’s book from her hand and place it on her lap. I move one of her hands over the book, and the other I place halfway on the table. I reach for Christof’s free hand and place it gently over Leidy’s, and on their joined hands I wave my tweaking wand.

~

A response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Standstill

Subconscious

Delirium.

I never asked if you can drive a bicycle, but in this dream you were riding one. I was standing in your way and you stopped, handing me a red hand-made greeting card. It was surprising because I know you are not a card person. It was the first card that you ever gave me, even in dreams.

I opened the card and saw pictures of me glued artistically on the left leaf. It was flattering that you printed the photos from my social networking accounts. That was very sweet, sentimental, resourceful, and even then, I knew I was just dreaming.

On the right leaf was a message, telling me that it is not true that I mean nothing to you. That I am someone really valuable and you can’t afford to lose. You asked me to stay by your side.

But there is a whole world of difference between being valued and being loved…

In the same card you also wrote a warning about the men around me. You said that though they may all seem to be good and nice on the surface, in truth, they all just wanted to take advantage of my kindness. “I promise to protect you from them,” you said.

But were you able to protect me from yourself?

And then there was another card. I could sense that you were hesitant but you gave it anyway. It was a wedding invitation. You’re marrying some woman I haven’t met.

Now I can finally let go of you.

The dream shifted and I was sitting on a pew on your wedding day. I watched her walk with grace down the aisle, her loving smile directed to you.

I woke up just before the part when you’re supposed to say “I do.”

~ 

A response to Readwave Writing Challenge: Dreams

Baking in Paper

I’m not familiar with the kitchen. If there’s one thing that I really wish I can do, but can’t, it is cooking, or baking, or anything related to it.

But I have, however, tried to bake a cake in one my short stories way back in 2007. The scene was about a girl who asked her brother (a boy her mother adopted and is secretly in love with her) to teach her how to bake in order to impress a hot suitor who was to visit that night.

Was the cake any good? Here, let me share it with you:

~*~

  “Found it! Banana cake… page 64…”

INGREDIENTS:

4 ounces butter, softened

3/4 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed

1 large egg

2 to 3 bananas, mashed, about 3/4 cup

1/4 cup buttermilk or sour milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 scant teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

“So you’re actually serious?” He was looking at her as if she had grown three heads.

“’Course I am! I’m wearing apron… see?” Her brother could be thick sometimes.

“And I am not…”

“Then wear one!” She rolled her eyes. Really thick sometimes.

With a sigh, he obliged and wore the blue apron she specially prepared for him. “Do you have everything you need?” He asked while tying the apron’s back ribbon.

“Don’t know, you check…”

He gave her a you-are-hopeless look and took the recipe book from her hands. She just smiled sweetly.

“Where’s the baking soda?”

“Oh it isn’t there?” she asked, pointing at the neatly arranged ingredients on the kitchen table.

“Will I ask if it’s there?”

“Why so irate? Just wait here, I’ll ask Nanny Rita,” she said and left the kitchen.

Heat oven to 350°.

“The oven’s ready.” He said when she came back with the baking soda. “Why the sudden interest in baking?”

She gave him a shrug. “’Cause I think it’s high time to learn new things. Anything wrong with that?”

Her brother looked unconvinced. “So you start with a banana cake? You should have experimented with pancakes first. ”

“Duh, no challenge. Besides, pancakes are not baked.”

“So? You said you just want to learn new things. You haven’t even touched a frying pan!”

“Ohhh…. I can so get a frying pan right now and hit your head with it.”

Grease and flour an 8- or 9-inch square pan.

He was brushing butter on a pan when he looked at her. “What are you doing there standing? Do the same so you’ll learn. Put that apron to good use young lady.”

“I will, just watching how you’re doing it.”

In a large mixing bowl with electric mixer, cream butter and brown sugar.

Beat in egg, milk, vanilla, and mashed banana until blended.

They prepared their own banana cakes. She was occasionally peaking on what her brother was doing, and she was having difficulty in keeping up. He slowed down when she voiced her complaint.

Pouting at her mixing bowl, as she added her mashed banana.

Combine remaining dry ingredients and spices.

Stir the dry ingredients into the first mixture until moistened.

Spread in prepared pan.

“Hey… what did I do?”

“Piss off.”

He announced this little “who baked the better cake” contest to make fun of her. He loves teasing his sister partly because she looks too cute when upset.

After pouring the mixture on his square pan, he dipped a finger on the spared butter and wiped the grease on her cheeks… “Oops!” He grinned at her and ran for his life.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until cake springs back when lightly touched with finger.

He wiped the butter that seemed to cover his face with his apron, glaring at the giggling girl beside him.

“You started it…” she said sweetly, cleaning the grease that found its way to her hair.

“Yeah, yeah.” he said as he remove the apron from his head. He then smiled.

The oven beeped and she rushed to check on her masterpiece.

“Hey, slowly. It’s hot.” 

He helped her place the cake on the table, and then it was his turn to put his pan in the oven. When he turned, the girl was staring happily at her first creation.

“Ready to have a bite?” He asked.

She contemplated for a while then said “You first.”

“Me? Why me? That’s your cake.”

“Please?”

Knowing that he is powerless against the puppy-eye technique, he sliced a small portion of the square cake. 

She turned her back on him as he placed the piece in his mouth, covering her face. And there was silence.

Long silence.

He waited for her to face him. “Well?” she asked tentatively.

“You go try it.” He said keeping his voice normal, not wanting to disappoint her.

As soon as the cake slice entered her mouth, it escaped.

She looked at him sadly. He sighed.

“Hey it’s not that bad…”

“Yeah right…Shut up…” she was almost crying.

“Why so depressed? We can always bake again. Tomorrow, if you like.”

“That won’t do…”

“Why?”

 “That was for Stuart…”

Silence.

“He’s coming tonight…I just wanted to impress him with something I made…” she said, her voice breaking.

“Then impress him some other time.” He rolled his eyes.

The oven beeped for the second time. The girl stopped fretting and smiled wickedly as an idea came to mind.

“Looks like I’m serving yours instead…”

“And pretend you prepared it?”

“Yes!” She squealed.

Frost with a cream cheese frosting

or sprinkle with powdered sugar.

~*~

A Response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: Practice Makes Perfect?

Because I'm Brilliant

I’m not the most active of students. I’m one that usually sits at the back corner, as far away from the professor’s searching eyes as possible. It’s not that I’m not prepared for class or anything, it’s just the way I am. The quiet listener by the classroom door.

I’d say I’m smart. I am in love with both words and numbers. When they say that those good in Math are bad in English, my inner pride would swell in the fact that I’m an exception. And not to brag or anything, I also love the Arts.

So, why I am saying this? I just want to establish the fact that I’m a brilliant person, at least in this page, because people don’t see it right away. Especially not in class, where all I do is sit and listen and take notes, and where I don’t usually get the good grades (because though I do most of the group papers, I let my team mates report the whole thing for the sake of contribution, and so they get the spotlight.) Which is not fair, because again I say, I am brilliant. Just not brave enough to show it.

Now, if you’d ask me what a great teacher (or professor) is, it is this – someone who can see my brilliance by just looking, and then make an effort to help me show it.

I feel very blessed to have met some.

First was my grade school choir teacher, who discovered that I can sing the alto part very well. This event marked the beginning of my love for Music. Years later, during my teens and early twenties, I broke out of my shell and began singing in front of huge crowds. And no, it’s not karaoke.

Second was my journalism teacher. She handpicked me as one of the writers for the school paper when I still had no idea that I could write. From then began my love affair with literature.  I never missed a book review and I wrote poetry on every leaf of my notebook.

Third, was my high school Math teacher, who would call me when no one’s raising a hand. I’d then write my solution on the board and be surprised that my answer’s correct. She was the only teacher who was actually sorry that I did not get a medal during graduation. Her faith in me gave me confidence to pursue a degree in Statistics. Yes, I was able to finish the course, and this time, with a medal.   

I will not forget to mention my parents – my first teachers, my first believers. Not only did they encourage me to give my best in everything that I do, they have also imparted in me something very important – faith.

Because of the excellence and the values they have instilled in me, I never got tired of learning. Which is why it is not surprising that right now, as I’m about to finish my MBA, I’m already planning on taking another course.

When asked why I keep on studying, I just reply with a smile.  Saying “because I’m brilliant” would not give the right impression no matter how true it is. But seriously, my answer is this:

 I want to be great, so I can impart this greatness to others too.

The same way my teachers did.

~

A Response to Wordpress Daily Prompt: We Can Be Taught!