this one's into my head now

EL DEBARGE lyrics

chick's baseball and my pen.

They call a short stay in baseball "a cup of coffee," and that's what I had, but it was a cup of coffee at the best table in the best joint in town.
--- Chick Benetto, for one more day (mitch albom)

mitch albom's newest piece is my current read.
actually, the impulsive buyer in me trampled all over my senses that before i had an idea of what's going on, i believe i have marched to the counter cradling albom's books - for one more day and 5 people you meet in heaven - and have fished the plastic card from my wallet.

promptly paid my purchase. no second thoughts, without looking back.

now, i am thoroughly enjoying every page of the book.

fact is, i have stopped on this particular page in which the preceeding paragraph falls.
it made me pause, think and reflect - on thoughts that i have set aside, but kept on resurfacing. stuff that bubbles inside my head that sometimes won't let me be still.

hmmm...how do i start? might as well let my mind drift and allow my hands to do the typing.

Chick's a baseball player who has crossed the rainbow of the game - the World Series. Chick has played in the Major League and figured in the World Series.
after that, nada.

He blew his knee, was healed, played in the Minor League. but that was as far as he goes.

he ended up being a salesman.

he had the best that life had to offer. but it wasn't enough....

i haven't finished the novel yet, but somehow, the epiphanies are humbling and small spurts of affirmation simply juts out from the pages.

Chick's line is parallel to every mainstream journalist's creed, you're only as good as your last copy.

this line made me work my ass off in every story i submit to my editor when i was still in active duty as a sportswriter. being one of the few female sportswriters added pressure to make good in my chosen profession, prove that i have something in between my ears, was more than just a pretty face and punctuated my article with hardwork and dedication that has earned for me the (then much sought-after) byline and respect of colleagues.

and then i left. worked as an editor in foreign land. came back. enjoyed my brief stint in the academe. and then joined a broadcast network.

i have never turned my back to writing. it has, and will always be my one true love. writing has kept me sane. made me still. allowed me to cry and comforted me best. writing has been my constant source of smiles. and it has never left me wounded.

and so, every now and then i pick up my pen and seek for a story waiting to see print.

sometimes, i'm successful. but there are times, i feel broken-hearted.

i had the best time of my life getting my nails inked. scribbling madly post-game interviews. waking up early for an exclusive. beating deadlines. wracking my brains for the perfect lead. hacking away my story on some beaten typewriter. helping out my editor to put our magazine to bed. receiving fan mails. getting patted on the back by people i thought i would never impress. be praised by people who actually knew i exist.

it was a giddy experience. pretty much like riding on a small boat and admiring the surrounding beauty from the outside. almost surreal. ethereal. and i could still taste the cloudy, heady sensation tingling and tracing the insides of my cheeks, rolling on my tongue, bouncing and bumping into every fiber of my body.

it's that giddy.

it was one of the best chapters in my life.

somehow it defined me.

gave birth to several realizations. unveiled friendships that are meant to be for keeps, and some that could only go too far. it has stripped people off their masks, and taught me that i should know better.

it was one of the best street in my journey and being led into it was like having the best teacher in class.

it was like getting the best seat in a concert, the performer pausing and dedicating that one favorite song of the moment and just cherishing the performance especially for me.

wow.

now, i am in a different field. huddled with an entirely new cast. and as i embrace new challenge to my growth, i am flipping the page of my book so i can write on a fresh leaf now.

no last copies for this girl, only fresh ones to make. >wink!<

it's all because you kissed me goodnight...wish ko lang!

I've been looking for this poem since i heard it from a classmate back in my freshmen year.
whew! college days pa 'yun!

thanks Bro H!!!! You're the Man. ahahahahay


Said My Pajamas and Put on My Prayers

I climbed up the door, and opened the stairs;
I said my pajamas and put on my pray'rs,
I turned off the bed and crawled into the light
And all because you kissed me goodnight.


Next morning I woke and scrambled my shoes;
I shined up an egg, then I toasted the news;
I buttered my tie, and took another bite;
And all because you kissed me goodnight.


By evening I felt normal, so we went out again
You said "Goodnight," and kissed me,
I hurried home and then I climbed up the door, and opened up the stairs;
I said my pajamas and put on my pray'rs;
I turned off the bed, and crawled into the light
And all because you kissed me goodnight.

I powdered my hair, and pinned up my nose;
I hung up the bath, and I turned on my clothes;
I put out the clock, and wound the cat up tight;
And all because you kissed me goodnight.


I ran up the shade and pulled down the stair;
I curled up the rug, and I vacuumed my hair;
I just couldn't tell my left foot from my right;

And all because you kissed me goodnight.

By evening I felt normal, so we went out again
You said, "Goodnight," and kissed me, I hurried home and then
I lifted the preacher and called up the phone;
I spoke to the dog, and I threw your Ma a bone;
'Twas midnight, and yet the sun was shining bright,
And all because you kissed me goodnight.