The Wandering Deity's World

Last Sunday, to seek temporarily freedom from the confines of my nagging catatonia, I decided to join the potluck picnic that friends, Joan and Tita Kit, organized. I wasn’t really in the mood to do anything special that particular day because I had a little altercation with the BF, but I realized that it won't do me any good to just stay in my room and sulk.

We decided to have the picnic by the Han River Park.

Han River Park, on a lazy summer afternoon, is a welcome relief from the daily beatings of life. One can just relax, read some books, listen to MP3 or feast on homemade picnic goodies while inhaling the cozy Seoul air.

If you dig in-line skating, the park is the perfect place to show-off those glides. There are also bikes and duck boats for rent to enjoy the afternoon. A ferry boat cruises the river for something like 8 bucks. I am not sure. I have yet to try it.

The river, apart from being the biggest in South Korea, is also well known as the favorite suicide spot of those who are desperate to see the underworld. For the past few years, the river is said to have claimed lives of some well known Korean corporate executives, disgruntled lovers, homeless and jobless strugglers, and the likes.  

I don't know why I am telling you that guys. I just think you should know, just in case, you know, you come here in Korea feeling really low and all -- there's a place you can go and be included in the annals of suicides in this country.

The food and company amused me a lot and made me forget momentarily whatever predicament I was having then. However, as I was beginning to savor the cool summer breeze, some people started to take pictures of me. And who am I to say no to paparazzi? If celebrities hate them, I don’t, so I posed away!

Very interesting question, this new online friend asked me tonight. "Why did you name your blog, The Wandering Deity?"

When we were very young, Mother used to tell me and my siblings stories about Gods and Goddesses, who roam around the world, punishing little boys and girls whenever they deem necessary, or giving supernatural powers to those who take afternoon naps. I know by now, that it's my mother's twisted version of the Greek mythology.

Anyway, those stories awakened my interest in supernaturals and immortals at a very young age. Then it dawned on me one day, that perhaps I was a Deity in my first life, and/or destined to be one. Does that sound vague? Let me tell you this.  

When I was a little girl (five or six I think, not sure anymore), I wanted to be a singer. I always sang along to any Carpenter's songs, but mother was quick enough to point out that I sang out of tune, she being, my number one critic since the day I was born.

But you see, I was never that type of person who gives up easily.

In fifth grade, a wonderful opportunity came. A classmate invited me and other friends to join the church choir. She thought that because I have such a high-pitched voice, I'd be good for the alto part. I thought of it as my chance to finally shine. I remember looking forward to each choir rehearsal and the day that I'd be singing "The Messiah" like an angel.

However, after two weeks of singing in the church, I was told by the choir vocal teacher that I needed to practice more and that I could only sing if there's an absentee member... which never happened. 

My dream of a singing career died that day.

Imagine how cool would it be, if anyone did encourage my singing talent. People would be calling me Pop Deity by now. How mesmerizing it would be to see a giant billboard poster, with neon lights glowing underneath the print, "The Rock Deity In Concert (In the Nearest Stadium Behind You)". Coolness!

Forgetting my singing career, I focused on becoming a nun.

Practicing my act as a holy apparition one day, mother told me that "malditas" (Filipino for bad little girls) like me will never be a nun. That was the second time she killed my future*. 

I thought it would be overwhelming to hear people calling me "Sister Deity" or "Mother Deity Superior" someday. Then when I die and become a saint, people would be praying to my pagan statue, where under my perfectly sculpted feet, Saint Mary Deity, is engraved.

I dismissed the dream of becoming St. Mary Deity. And I certainly don't have any passion for it anymore. I am too old to be a novice. I don't think I'd like donning a habit anyway. It's so monotonous. And I have to wear the same outfit everyday, for the rest of my life? I'd die of boredom, am pretty sure. Also, I don't think the mother superiors would like it that I call my rosary, bling-bling. "Sister, have you seen my bling-bling? I left it on the altar."

Having my dreams castrated at an early age, I was almost willing to give up on my Deity identity pursuit.

As fate would have it, came this chance to write for an ESL Teachers' website. I needed an alias and friend O, thought Wandering Deity fits me like a glove since I am known among friends to possess a "wandering brain" (lutang na utak)-- always bored, never focusing/settling on one thing, forever trekking to that Never Heard of Land, where Deities like me roam around freely without being regarded as an escapee from a mental asylum. 

Naturalmente, when I started this blog on the 2nd of February 2005, I used the same monicker. And let it be  known that I am going to be The Deity 'til the day I cease to exist... online.

Anyone got a problem with that, now is the time to speak!

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*In fairness to mother, she was the one who insisted that I take BSEducation back in college, which, needless to say, is my bread and butter these days. See? Mother knows best... but she is yet to find out that I call myself the Wandering Deity. Ha!

This is the joke that generated various reactions from people of all walks of life. Need I say why?

I don't like Paris personally (and I bet she doesn't give a dang shit about that, like who the hell are you MJ?) but when I saw this, I was like, ugh, that's kinda unethical. I mean, she's going to prison and all, what's the big deal of making fun of her in national television, with over a million people watching? That's kinda harsh. Nobody deserves that.

It's the same way with ORDINARY people, who, to GENERATE a little amusement to entertain his/her peers, poke tasteless jokes at someone else's expense, thinking it's CUTE. It's not. IT'S F*#@%ING NOT AMUSING! What if it's done to you, what would you feel?

Losers. Why are there so many of them in this world?

I saw this entry in Rhey's blog and thought I should be interviewed, too.  I don't know who started this but it's pretty amusing. I asked her to make the questions easier, as my brain is a little fragile and anything that has to do with calculus or political issues, breaks it.

The Rules: 

1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."

2. I will respond by giving you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment, asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

We decided to meet up in a Starbucks branch somewhere in the Caribbean. There are lots of celebrities around but I am sooo oblivious of their presence. This is my first interview ever and I want it to be perfect.

Hi Johnny. Oh yes, I saw your last POTC movie. I think it's okay. You want me to replace Keira? Cool. We talk about it later. I have an interview in a few minutes. I'll see you around. I love you, too.

So sweet of that guy. Really.

Hellooooo Brad! Fancy seeing you here. You want me to baby sit Shiloh? Are you serious? Do you have any idea who I am? Come on Brad, you do know I am a lot better than that. Angie's calling you now. Go!

Hey Mr. Clooney, you are not going to seduce me with a cup of frappucino. Haha. And do you really think I'll accept that part in Ocean's 14 where Andy will tie me to a vault then he'll blow me into pieces? Can you please ask the writers to redo that scene? Thank you. I'll give you a call. Okay?

Hell these people. Where the heck is my interviewer?

I decided to wear my Vera Wang micro mini ball gown to impress Rhey, who donned a Ralph Lauren black suit, which really looked good on her. Dang! She trying to outdo me? I'm supposed to be the interviewee here.

After we checked each other out from head to toe, the interview started.

Rhey: Why do fools fall in love?

Deity: You already know that the difference of mankind from the rest of the species is their free will. The power to choose what they want, what would make them happy, the intelligence to decide on life-changing matters, etc… However, when humans fall in love, they do crazy stuff -- things that they have never done before in their entire lives. Some even commit gross macabre crimes which, what them, CSI's call, crime of passion.

In short, humans before falling in love are sane. However, as soon as they fall in love, and let that "chemical substance" brought about by that feeling, runs in their veins, they are reduced to that category – fool.

Hey, I am in love and I am no fool. And why do I fall in love? I guess because even fools need to love and be loved… I think.

Next question, please? I am getting nervous here.

Rhey: What is so inspirational with the line 'who moved my cheese?

Deity: Hmmm… I read that book. I forgot the name of the author. It's one of those books I borrowed from a friend, read in the subways and buses to pass time.

Anyway, the book is about these four mice, actually representing people. Everyday, the mice get out of their little mouse house, grab the cheese waiting for them, and do about what they have to do for the rest of the day. The cheese represents the everyday thing in a man's life, the daily routine, that is. Then one day, someone moved the cheese and the rest of the book tackled how each mouse reacted to that change. Of course, there's this helpful solution how to go about the change. Blah. Blah. All those stuff self-help books are made of.

I will pretend for a moment that I have not read the book. That line would definitely inspire my adrenalin to surge, to turn into a Rambo Deity (garbed in a pink leather suit   armed with stiletto boots and nail file), and hunt the one who moved the cheese; to castrate that person, skin him alive and rub his exposed skin with rock salts. Ha!

Rhey: Describe your first 'titillating experience'.

Deity: Gawdness, that happened like centuries ago, when you were still in the womb of your momma, happily swimming in her placenta, protected from the vanities and insanities of the world. I cannot, for a single moment, recall the experience. Did I have an orgasm? Not so sure. Really. I must be soooo drunk I passed out and remembered very little of it the following day but considered it to be the first ever titillating experience.

You should have specified with whom. That would be a lot easier to answer. Hahaha!

Rhey: You are a super hero, what super powers would you like to have and why?

Deity: Okay, I always like to think that I am a Deity but everybody knows am another mortal suffering from suppressed ADHD and well-maintained catatonia.

Granting I'll be given a super power, I'd choose the Gorgon stare. You know that myth bitch who turns everyone into stone with her deadly gaze? Yes, I like that. A lot. I want to be able to turn any human being who crosses my way into stone. I think it will also work good on my students.  They turn nasty and bratty, I turn them into pebbles!

Rhey: You find yourself in a room full of all the things that you have ever WANTED, but you can only choose one thing to take with you for now. What would you choose?

Deity: Let me imagine for a moment that I am sitting in a Waldorf Astoria penthouse suite, fresh from my nth birthday party. I got tons of Prada and LV bags, choices of Manolos, Jimmy Choos and Steve Madden shoes, Channel and Burberry coats, Gucci purses and perfume, and other gorgeous designer stuff, birthday presents of my beloved family and friends.

The clinker is I can only choose one? Dang! Why can't I have them all? Anyway, I can always come back for the other items. Right? Yes? Hello?

Okay, I'll grab first the lifetime gift certificate from Clinique before somebody else steals it. Everybody knows it's costly to maintain beauty. Heck, a lifetime certificate will guarantee that y'all will grow old and wrinkly and ugly, while I, the Deity, I'm gonna be beautiful for the rest of my living years, without spending a dime! Ha!

Now... who wants to be interviewed?

"Those things that hurt, instruct." Words of wisdom by the great Benjamin Franklin.

When we are deeply hurt, we tend to think it's the end of the world. When we go through the same vicious cycle of falling in love and getting hurt in the process, we, as humans, would naturally assume that it's our fate -- to be brokenhearted all the time. Worst, we feel cursed. Not.  

We should not bury ourselves in misery, but instead, we should learn to look back and stare straight in the eyes of pain with a smile and learn from it; move on, strive, and make the future brighter with genuine enthusiasm. 

Instead of sulking in a corner, curled up in a fetal position, we should take the opportunity of being hurt to construct better options in life, to live more, so to speak. 

Take inspiration from the mundane things we normally ignore. Derive strength from the love of our families and friends, the ones who are always there, no matter what. Have more faith in God and allow Him to guide you. 

We should not forget the old adage: "nothing lasts forever"; whatever misery we are going through right now, shall pass. Everything happens for a reason. And it's always for our own good. The anguish is God's another way of telling us that He's preparing us for a better deal, for a finer life.

If you choose to languish, it's your call... but there's more to life than a lost love. For all you know, before the year is over, you'll be singing Gloria's immortal song:  

"I'm not that chained up little person
still in love with you
and so you felt like dropping in
and just expect me to be free
now I'm saving all my loving
for someone who's loving me..."

I have been thinking about it a lot. It’s been a while since I had it. It’s almost like centuries since the last time I engorged myself in that luscious mouth watering feeling of indulging in one.

I think about it day in, day out. I even dream about it. A lot. I cannot stand the longing anymore. Every time I look down, I see it... dry... itchy... aching to be touched, to be caressed, to be pampered. However, whenever I think of engaging in one, I am empowered with tremendous guilt I would immediately cast out the thoughts from my head. My conscience screams no. No, I cannot betray my loved ones. This is going to be a costly sin… I  know.

I tried to do it myself, but I don’t have the proper tools. I end up hurting myself. This has to be fixed. It has to.

I am only human. I have needs to be satisfied. I have decided that this weekend I am going to have one; hook, line or sinker. Even if it would mean that I’ll suffer for a while. I am willing to take the consequences.

I am not sure if I am going to tell the BF about it beforehand. He said he loves me and I can do whatever makes me happy. I am sure he will understand.

I am going to have a foot spa! Dang these dry skins around my toes, they need to be cleaned up. And I soooo missed that titillating feeling of having my feet nurtured. Yes! Yes! Yes!

Huh? What were you thinking?

The great brouhaha about the final sequel of the Pirate movie is over... to me, that is. For almost three hours I was entertained to my ass. Curiosity still unsatiated, I sat through the end of the credits to see what's that “final scene” the fans in IMDB forum were screeching about. According to them, it’s the scene every sane moviegoers should not miss for anything in the world. Mum's the word.

One hundred sixty-eight minutes of sword swashbuckling. Every scene’s worthy of your hard-earned 8 bucks (based on Korea’s ticket pricing). Awesome.

I am not going to spoil the fun for you dearest friends. If you haven’t catch the Pirate fever yet, now is the time to move your lazy butts and run to the nearest cinema. 

With Elizabeth heading the pirates conglomerate, buccaneers never look this hot.