this is my first entry for the first round of LASANG PINOY. the first month launch centers around ninoy's death anniversary, august 21, which makes it but fitting to launch this monthly project on sunday, the 21st of august.
that day in 1983 changed the life of our nation 22 years ago. the sequence of the inevitable that culminated in the events of the first people power of february 1986, the first the world had ever seen of a revolution by the people won by prayer and peaceful demonstrations, would give filipinos something to be truly proud of after decades of humiliating decline on the world stage. for some strange reason, i will always look back at that time as one helluva street party catered by street vendors and ingenius entrepreneurs. it was probably one of the best parties i had ever attended in my whole life. 'til now. even after being part of edsa dos, which wasn't much of a party for me, as i never relished the thought of some midget fence-sitter aceding to power on the toil of a few good men and women.
it was 1986 and classes had been called off. my english teacher at the time had appeared on tv somewhere, kneeling in front of a tank, a rosary clasped in her tense hands, her face a mask of desperation and agony. and no wonder. she was only a few feet away from the first wave of tanks that marcos had ordered to disperse the huge crowd that had gathered at the edsa-ortigas intersection (grabe, wala pang flyover don, not to mention that weird looking golden statue of mama mary being pooped on by birds). she would later recount hearing the engines of the tanks coming closer until that excruciating moment when the engine died and she could see clearly the faces of the young soldiers who emerged from the tank's bowels. her face would become one of the most famous images of the revolution of the middle class against marcos, immortalised in the international news magazines at the time and the coffee table books that sprung up after marcos' ignominious exit to hawaii. it was a turning point, in a strange way, of the way i viewed her, too. that day her face was flashed all over the anti-marcos papers (it could have been malaya; inquirer was just like a tabloid at the time) i saw not just my 9th grade mrs badoy, but the fearless pura badoy, willing to face down tanks and use her booming voice --- not just in the classroom to discipline us high school brats --- but to compel hundreds of other frightened activists to get on their knees and pray the rosary with her.
in 1985 my dad was part of the CAPM, or the cory aquino for president movement that collected over a million signatures to convince cory to run for president. (in fact, he is immortalised in a coffee table book, too, as he recounted his role in the CAPM and the turmoil of those times).
before that, around 2 years before the signature campaign, my dad came home with 3 yellow shirts with the face of a smiling man in glasses emblazoned across the front of it. on the back were the words: "the filipino is worth dying for." (years later, my dad, disgusted with the turn of events in the country that would lead to erap's presidency and then edsa dos, would empathically say, "ninoy was wrong. the filipino is NOT worth dying for!" he left for the united states 4 years ago and has not returned since to the philippines) i was only 12 at the time so i lost the battle to get one of those shirts. my mom got one by default and of course my older sister, being the eldest in the family. my dad told us shirt-less siblings, "when you understand what he died for, then i'll get you your own shirts."
but it wasn't until i was 14 did things begin to make sense. by then, the shirts were no longer being manufactured so i contented myself with stealing my mom's or sister's shirt and wearing it to school --- just to be cool, because at the time, i was in a school filled with the children of diplomats whom i knew would never have a shirt just like mine. there was something about ninoy aquino that was 'cool' to me at the time: he was articulate, his daughter had been my classmate briefly in 7th grade, and now, my signature was part of a million that would push cory to run as the widow president. those were exciting days, right before the events at edsa. i remember boycotting san miguel beer around christmas time --- yes, i was already drinking beer at the time. i remember watching people flock to the polling booths on that long ago morning of feb 7, 1986 at the public school a stone's throw away from our house and wishing fervently i could vote. i even remember sitting beside the namfrel poll watchers as they tallied the votes. in all our precincts, cory won by a huge margin. but the televised comelec results would reveal a different story.
on the 2nd night of the vigil at edsa, my kuya and his girlfriend announced that they were going to edsa and stop any more tanks that marcos and ver would send. my kuya's girl turned to me and asked if i wanted to come along. i looked at my parents quickly. my dad, without any hesitation, said, "of course you should go. this is history in the making!!!" the thought that crossed my mind was, "cooooool. camp crame is THE place to be!" i got my sister's ninoy shirt and tucked it into my walking shorts. high waist pa ako non. (hanggang ngayon pa naman but that, as they say, is another story) i remember the grown ups --- or rather, the older-ups --- packing tons of food in the trunk of the car. it didn't cross my mind that i could get hungry in the next 24 hours we would be 'hanging out' at edsa.
we parked near the cubao flyover because the 'relevant' stretch of edsa was virtually unpassable. there was a festive mood in the air as we made our way down edsa towards crame. barkadas of teens were chanting as they passed by, in kapit-bisig fashion, yelling, "asan na mga tangke??? lusubin nila tayo kung kaya nila!!!" this followed by boisterous shouts and peals of laughter. i couldn't help but laugh along.
there were vendors everywhere selling everything and anything. from flashlights to more ninoy shirts to little filipino flags on barbecue sticks. by the time we got to crame i had seen car after car parked facing the wall, the boot open, filled with crates of food and tetrapacks, some for sale. "matinik", i remember thinking. i had stepped on so many squished plastic bags and straws filled with remnants of what had been mirinda pepsi or coke. barbecue sticks littered the way. there were karitons filled with balut and boiled peanuts. as night descended upon the throngs, the kariton-drivers lit greasy kerosene lamps and these flickered uneasily along that stretch of highway that looked more like a park scene rather than a battlefield of the forces of right and wrong. or the forces of a sundered friendship between ramos/enrile and macoy. flattened cartons and banigs were now lining the road. we really were going to meet those tanks in our probinsya mode beddings.
all night long i munched on the egg and pimiento sandwiches that my kuya's girlfriend had packed in the trunk of the car. i sipped from zesto tri-a-packs (di ko masabing tetra pack yon kasi mukang triangle e) and from time to time, bought mirinda from the passing vendors. my kuya cracked some balut eggs at around 4 am and had me drink the soup. at that time i didn't know how to eat a balut standing up. there were no plates to be had so my ka-artehan in balut eating were sidelined for the time being.
there were many false alerts throughout that long night. mostly it was the vendors who would run past, shouting, "parating na sila, mga dalawang tangke din yon!!!" we would get to our feet and cluster uncertainly near the island, knowing only that if tanks really did roll towards us, we would all scream in unison and pray that god be on our side. we must have burst into song so many times that night, the words "ibon mang may layang lumipad..." fluttering in our breasts and flying towards the stars every time someone told us that the tanks were not coming, not yet, not yet, but do not waver for we know not the time when they will be upon us.
the tanks did not come. not that night. we would hear over radio veritas that there was a tank or two in the succeeding days, but our day was not the "chosen one". when i remember our disappointment at having avoided a confrontation, i shake my head bemusedly but at the time, it was like a big party at the fort and we young ones were just too eager to embrace danger. we were, after all, at that point in our lives when we sought excitement and adventure --- and this kind, we were sure, would make us heroes not only to our friends but to an entire nation. if anything, those frenzied 5 days of edsa defined my teen life as the time i crossed over from being a party-hungry girl to someone who had purpose not only in my life but for the life of my nation.
after edsa, it was only a matter of time before i was signing up for volunteer service to one of the poorest provinces of the country at the time. it meant nothing to me at the time to get a high paying job when so many in the country were living in poverty. i knew i always had my comfortable middle class life to return to after a year of service but this was the promise of my youth, my mid-teenaged years when i was part of the crowds who cheered and yes, wept, when the dictator and his crazy wife fled the country. i was one of those who could never be comfortable touring malacanang palace or the malacanang of the north in laoag, who nearly threw up when i saw macoy's preserved body in a glass coffin, lit up by a solitary spotlight while triumphal classical music played from hidden speakers. to this day, the sight of imelda marcos makes my blood boil. i want to put my fingers in her thickly coiffed hair and pull every strand apart, just before she steps into her limousine.
it was during that soirée, while i munched on my favorite cheese pimiento sandwich, sipping from my brother's balut and zesto drink, that something hardened within me, turning me off forever to a life in pursuit of caprice and comfort. as long as people suffer, i vowed in between bites, i cannot relax. ever. what that man said years ago will make sense in my lifetime, that we, pinoys, are indeed worth dying for. i dedicate my life to the realisation of this truth. i will prove my dad wrong and perhaps call him home in the process of doing so.
today, 2 years away from my beloved homeland, i miss the taste of balut most of all. here in belgium, it costs a terrifying 1.50 euros. that's 100 pesos for one little egg!!! next year, i will be able to buy my 9 peso-balut again from that vendor just outside the heart center, maybe after aikido practice. or so i hope.
18.8.05
27.7.05
some places do not exist
until this morning, hospitals ranked first on my list as one of the worst places in the world to be. everywhere around you are people who are either: ill enough to warrant institutional care, related to someone very ill that their faces are pale and strained, there to service those who are ill. i just see it as a place where no one wants to be at all, no matter from what perspective, but have to be there anyway, whether out of need or economics.
there is another place that stands like an open door on the eve of a solstice, ushering in unwanted spirits from other worlds. sometimes i wonder how such places really can exist and yet not exist, too, if only in its physical structure. but once you're done with your business at such a place, it ceases to exist, and those who work in those places know only too well the expressions of people who walk in and out of their doors and look through them as though they were not there. people who work at such places exist only for the immediate needs of the people who are there.
when a 3 year old who is just learning how to read his letters and perfecting his grammar in dutch, english, and tagalog, can go to such a place and then look balefully at his parents with red eyes hurting from holding back tears, you wonder how such a place can call forth such emotions from a young soul. i have come to view the rows and rows of efficiently places counters and conveyor belts with some kind of detachment, eyes lidded, ready to blink out the image once my papers have been scrutinised and my boarding pass has been handed to me, informing me of my immediate exit from such a twilight zone.
airports are among the ugliest places in the world to be. it ushers in people you've been wanting to see for months and years, yet it will be through the same doorway by which your beloveds will depart, taking your heart with them.
when dodo left me for the last time in 2000, i remember him crouching over his suitcase, his eyes beseeching me, "make your choice, make it me, i'll wait for you." that was the last time i ever saw him. the last words i ever saw him mouth at me through the rush of people walking into NAIA were, "i love you." when my best friend, jon, ritchie, and nan who formed the last 4 of the vox pacis choir in europe left last year, it was at the very same spot that my parents had taken their leave days earlier, and through which they would depart barely a year later, just some hours ago as the clock struck 6 in the morning. because of the series of brussels airport departures i have witnessed, i have unconsciously learned to keep my face blank and feel nothing at the moment of last goodbyes and embraces. with my best friend and jon, i couldn't help the few teardrops that squeezed themselves out from between my lashes. with mommy and chuchi earlier, i was like a shell embracing my dad lightly and kissing my mom's cheek. my eyes were on mikka, whose brow was furrowed in a very un-3-year old like manner, eyes swollen while staring at his lolo and lola. he clung tightly to S's leg, his mouth working but unable to utter any words.
if one were made to choose between the lesser of two evils, one would, i believe, rather be the one leaving than the one left behind.
now the coming fall and winter before me looms, while my tummy grows with the precious life within. my baby is due on the 25th of december, the gloomiest and dullest day in leuven. all shops are shut, the streets are empty (ghost town, pare!), and anyone worth knowing has chosen to be somewhere else, all the wiser to avoid the most soulless place on earth.
i don't know when my son, husband, and i will see lola and lolo again, or anyone related to us by affinity or blood. please let it be sooner than we expect, dear lord. may Your time for us be sooner than my worst fears.
and damn them airports. these should only be built for arrivals. i'm getting too old for departures and leave-taking. this old heart can't take any more stretching. too much na. tama na diba.
there is another place that stands like an open door on the eve of a solstice, ushering in unwanted spirits from other worlds. sometimes i wonder how such places really can exist and yet not exist, too, if only in its physical structure. but once you're done with your business at such a place, it ceases to exist, and those who work in those places know only too well the expressions of people who walk in and out of their doors and look through them as though they were not there. people who work at such places exist only for the immediate needs of the people who are there.
when a 3 year old who is just learning how to read his letters and perfecting his grammar in dutch, english, and tagalog, can go to such a place and then look balefully at his parents with red eyes hurting from holding back tears, you wonder how such a place can call forth such emotions from a young soul. i have come to view the rows and rows of efficiently places counters and conveyor belts with some kind of detachment, eyes lidded, ready to blink out the image once my papers have been scrutinised and my boarding pass has been handed to me, informing me of my immediate exit from such a twilight zone.
airports are among the ugliest places in the world to be. it ushers in people you've been wanting to see for months and years, yet it will be through the same doorway by which your beloveds will depart, taking your heart with them.
when dodo left me for the last time in 2000, i remember him crouching over his suitcase, his eyes beseeching me, "make your choice, make it me, i'll wait for you." that was the last time i ever saw him. the last words i ever saw him mouth at me through the rush of people walking into NAIA were, "i love you." when my best friend, jon, ritchie, and nan who formed the last 4 of the vox pacis choir in europe left last year, it was at the very same spot that my parents had taken their leave days earlier, and through which they would depart barely a year later, just some hours ago as the clock struck 6 in the morning. because of the series of brussels airport departures i have witnessed, i have unconsciously learned to keep my face blank and feel nothing at the moment of last goodbyes and embraces. with my best friend and jon, i couldn't help the few teardrops that squeezed themselves out from between my lashes. with mommy and chuchi earlier, i was like a shell embracing my dad lightly and kissing my mom's cheek. my eyes were on mikka, whose brow was furrowed in a very un-3-year old like manner, eyes swollen while staring at his lolo and lola. he clung tightly to S's leg, his mouth working but unable to utter any words.
if one were made to choose between the lesser of two evils, one would, i believe, rather be the one leaving than the one left behind.
now the coming fall and winter before me looms, while my tummy grows with the precious life within. my baby is due on the 25th of december, the gloomiest and dullest day in leuven. all shops are shut, the streets are empty (ghost town, pare!), and anyone worth knowing has chosen to be somewhere else, all the wiser to avoid the most soulless place on earth.
i don't know when my son, husband, and i will see lola and lolo again, or anyone related to us by affinity or blood. please let it be sooner than we expect, dear lord. may Your time for us be sooner than my worst fears.
and damn them airports. these should only be built for arrivals. i'm getting too old for departures and leave-taking. this old heart can't take any more stretching. too much na. tama na diba.
21.6.05
why they shine
i'm giddy. one of the perks that makes me enjoy my european adventure is that i'm in the right time zone to catch most of the coolest summer sporting events of the first world! when the US open comes, i'll just be a mere 6 hours puyat, unlike 12-15 hours if i had been in the philippines. but then i haven't been this hooked into sports since i was a little girl. there's nothing like idleness/boredom/slothfulness/pregnancy blues to use as an excuse for my sudden voracious appetite for any kind of news: you name it, current events in the middle east? the recent EU row? the bolton nomination? rice in egypt? cruise getting squirted? my beloved batman at the top of box office lists in north america? a kiwi winning his first US open in his mid 30s? michelin getting the most heat for their chicane inane request? sharapova's cashier pinging like crazy from all the million dollar endorsements (duncan will never know what this means)? the amazing horry in game 5?
oh i love it. i've been reading more, watching news more, watching films more. in between my hormone hell (i cannot find the perfect food for my picky palate and i'm supposed to be entering my second trimester) moments, there are these worthwhile pursuits that beat blogging any day. oops, foot in mouth? what the hey, it's true!
i've watched red carpet stuff with scary joan rivers many times, scoured archives of this and that awards night from the philippines to LA, and i can tell you, when it comes to ogling superstars, nothing beats sports stars. any day.
let me count the reasons.
i see how my list above resonates within my own person. cathy would flunk me in her make-up 101 course and how to dress fashionably even with muta in your eye. my favorite clothes are nike trousers and cross trainers, sports bras and tanggas, and my beloved speedo swimsuit, goggles, and swim cap. badminton rackets and an entire canister of feather shuttle cocks are still waiting to be worn out. i even brought my bokken all the way from the philippines, made of lightweight japanese white oak that eases training strokes by a mile. my gis are all with me and the hakama is gathering moss in my closet. i've forgotten how to fold one!!! grabe, back to zero ako nito sa aikido. so goes my dream to train this year... my being pregnant says that i should avoid high contact sports for the time being. so it's just biking and swimming for me now. i hope my brother bought that gap sports bikini he told me about the other day. it would make my burgeoning belly look way too cool. ha so i'm vain. :)
nba series will be decided this week in san antonio. if the fantastic warm weather persists, my nadal stands a better chance of making it into the 2nd week of the all england club. there's so much to look forward to this summer. thank god for little pockets of joy!
oh i love it. i've been reading more, watching news more, watching films more. in between my hormone hell (i cannot find the perfect food for my picky palate and i'm supposed to be entering my second trimester) moments, there are these worthwhile pursuits that beat blogging any day. oops, foot in mouth? what the hey, it's true!
i've watched red carpet stuff with scary joan rivers many times, scoured archives of this and that awards night from the philippines to LA, and i can tell you, when it comes to ogling superstars, nothing beats sports stars. any day.
let me count the reasons.
- absolutely no make-up. i love it when people are interviewed au naturel. maybe not right after they've won (esp basketball and football victors), with all the sweat glistening on their bodies (i just remembered brendan fraser's spoof of a dodo basketball player being interviewed right after a game he's won as the team's hotshot center). i like them after they've showered, the way the wimbledon round one winners looked for their press cons with cnn and bbc. nice!
- sporting the coolest sportswear. beauties like myskina and sharapova throw in eye candy with psychedelic colour coordinated pieces and not just your typical functional sportswear but awesome halter designs. i particularly liked myskina's number today when she salvaged her game to advance to the 2nd round. i think federer looks great in his nike's (but he looks better in the fitted red number he had at roland garros; this loose white ensemble makes him look pale) as does hewitt and... i can't wait, my dream boyfriend, rafa nadal. grabe, i dreamed of him a week after the french open and he was my lover in there!!! talk about latent desires.
- when they're conceited, it's a celebration of true talent anyway. when federer or davenport analyse the things they did right, it can rankle those who are secretly wishing their number one ranking slips (like i do with federer, but only because i like nadal but objectively speaking, he is one fine player who is a joy to watch). they look happy as they describe the forehand winners they sent down the line, the serve and volleys they wish they could do more in future games... watching tony parker, tim duncan, and even rival pistons coach larry brown analyse the frighteningly predictable game-end heroics of the great robert horry was fun, never mind that basketball players usually have a very limited range of vocabulary to express superlatives. they may not be the most articulate people on earth but they sure are among the highest paid.
- when they make a comeback, it's a celebration of the human spirit's triumphs. down from injuries that can practically ruin a person whose bread and butter it is to use the body, players like clijsters, henin-hardenne, and hewitt come scraping back into the spotlight of the major events by sheer will and focus. it's the kind of determination i cannot see in the sorry pool of young showbiz talents in beloved philippines, where the tagline really is "beauty is skin deep". call me biased but i love art in motion as seen by rippling muscles in well toned bodies displaying the best of the sport.
- when everybody who's somebody is aiming for the top, you get top level play from everyone!!! the recent f1 fiasco in indianapolis is testimony to the opposite. you had the bronze medallist ascending the podium for the first time in his racing career because 14 of the cars pulled out of the race! it is pure joy to see the level of play increasing as the game progresses. i love it when i see players with the intent of not letting the other player win easily. nothing beats hustle and passion on any playing field in any sport! awesome.
i see how my list above resonates within my own person. cathy would flunk me in her make-up 101 course and how to dress fashionably even with muta in your eye. my favorite clothes are nike trousers and cross trainers, sports bras and tanggas, and my beloved speedo swimsuit, goggles, and swim cap. badminton rackets and an entire canister of feather shuttle cocks are still waiting to be worn out. i even brought my bokken all the way from the philippines, made of lightweight japanese white oak that eases training strokes by a mile. my gis are all with me and the hakama is gathering moss in my closet. i've forgotten how to fold one!!! grabe, back to zero ako nito sa aikido. so goes my dream to train this year... my being pregnant says that i should avoid high contact sports for the time being. so it's just biking and swimming for me now. i hope my brother bought that gap sports bikini he told me about the other day. it would make my burgeoning belly look way too cool. ha so i'm vain. :)
nba series will be decided this week in san antonio. if the fantastic warm weather persists, my nadal stands a better chance of making it into the 2nd week of the all england club. there's so much to look forward to this summer. thank god for little pockets of joy!
17.6.05
falling into place
finally, i've seen all 6 episodes of the star wars saga, all on the big screen. walang mintis!
i was 6 when i watched star wars. at the time, it wasn't called episode 4 or the new hope yet. i must have watched this film more than thrice in my lifetime. i was 9 when i saw episode 5, the empire strikes back. subsequent viewings revealed dynamic scenes, something that would be reprised in episode 6, which i watched still another 3 years later, when i was 12. when the prequels started coming out in the 90s, i realised why episodes 5 and 6 remain the best of all the 6 episodes. george lucas had not directed those films. no wonder.
i don't remember when i watched the phantom menace but it was in one of the high tech makati theaters. same with the clone wars. both left me cold and bored. liam neeson was a drag (good thing darth maul got rid of him in a hurry, sorry qui gon) and it was hard for me to picture any chemistry happening between the kiddie-anakin and queen amidala (who, strangely, looked demoted in rank by the time this film got rolling). it was pretty much the same in episode 3, the revenge of the sith. the love between padme and anakin left me cold. i can't imagine how they even got themselves pregnant. there was more heat between portman and owen in 'closer'. that's one of the things i didn't like about episode 3. the love angle. completely sappy and corny. walang libog. the kisses were perfunctory. the second thing i didn't like about episode 3 was anakin himself. hayden was lacking in intensity all throughout the film. his costumed counterpart in the classic trilogy (eps. 4, 5, and 6) did a much better job! the supposed conversion scene --- the decisive turning from light to dark, from good to evil --- was over in a flash of an instant that had me and my moviemates wondering, "ha? yon na yonnnnn? ambilis!" my best friend and i thought that he had been dark from the start; the inner battle was not played out well in his character. perhaps lucas didn't even notice. i might have told hayden, had i been there, "take your time, dear, these things are life-changing moments!" but the scenes were only to happy to shift to another with the baduyic wiper effects reminiscent of the classic trilogy.
i couldn't hate the stilted dialogue. that is part and parcel of all star wars films. you don't enter the theater expecting pulitzer prize exchanges or woody allen wit. but i did expect more characterisation from anakin. after all, he IS the heart of the prequels! and he IS redeemed in episode 6 --- i had to see the battle raging in his heart as the force tore him apart. but i didn't.
there was more to love about this film. the avid star wars fan in me felt utterly geeky, making connections to all my unanswered questions from the previous episodes, more like the last 3, which i had seen more than 20 years ago. (well, a little lie there. i had seen the digitised versions in the last few years, also on the big screen hehehe) S lost the battle to shut my mouth from all my explosive, "aaaah, so that's how his lungs gave out on him..." or "aaahhh so that's why obi wan came back to life in star wars..." or "so that's why leia is a princess and luke is some impoverished dude" or "aaaaah so that's how leia got her mickey mouse hair" and this and that.
i enjoyed the CGI characters, definitely more than the humanoid jar jar binks or chewbacca! when they featured chewie in episode 3, i was snickering like a schoolgirl does over some pathetic loser. i can still remember han solo delivering his wry lines and chewie going, "arrrggghhhh" mundanely. mwahahahaha it makes me chuckle just to think about it. i still enjoyed watching yoda jump all over the place and royally kick ass with his light saber, even if sidious outdid him in the senate showdown. i thought mace windu (samuel jackson) looked terribly out of place in his jedi costume and flying through the air after a bolt of force lightning; i guess i just can't shake the image of him stealing a stradivarius violin in another film i love, "the red violin". and well, he was the voice of frozone in "the incredibles", so this should have hooved closer to his mace windu prowess in the movie. but it didn't quite cut it for me. i thought ewan mcgregor had more pizazz acting against a blue screen than hayden --- and this will prompt my best friend to say, "naman. ikumpara pa ba si ewan kay hayden???" hey, let me, even if it's totally non sequitur. after all, hayden got top billing for this film. heck, in the count dooku scene, christopher lee's 5 minute-moment on screen eclipsed hayden's prequel exposure! you could see so much more happening in lee's eyes when palpatine ordered anakin to kill him than you could see in hayden's eyes just before he decapacitated the unfortunate sithy lord.
and my last word goes to ian mcdarmid. he was fantastically evil as the ultimate sith lord. his face contortions, his malefic laugh, hooowow, he would give ian mckellen's magneto and christopher lee's (yes, the overturned apprentice in this film) saruman quite the comparison... well, no, of course magneto and saruman were the more compelling villains, but in a film as two-dimensional (my euphemism for 'flat') as this one, the archetypal approach to the cackling evil man outshone anakin's flatline presence. (grabe, even the young padawans in the jedi temple had more intensity!) still, i'm glad he played the role of sidious aka palpatine. it helped to give the film the feeling of evil and darkness it needed to lay down the final bricks for episode 4. when i saw the bare skeleton of the death star in the starry universey sky, i swear, my cheesy heart quickened its pace. i could actually see harrison ford doing hyperspace with his millenium falcon in the succeeding episodes!
enough of lucas ltd! i wanted to write about another film that had me crying with joy last night, except that this decidedly more sentimental one beat out the other one. but i will most definitely think longer and harder about johnny depp in "finding neverland". if anything, johnny depp is one of the actors i truly appreciate and lust over --- yes, even from his eddie snipping hands days.
my tummy's rolling gases around --- again --- and i must try to get some earlier shut-eye. i am going to attempt to rehearse on a real piano tomorrow morning. if i wake up early enough and if i can fish out my bach books. and that czech guy with the weird melodies. believe it or not, i'm off to catch the sexy christian bale and tom cruise's latest floozy in "batman begins" by the afternoon. this has got to be one of the craziest movie weeks i've had in a long time! nighty.
i was 6 when i watched star wars. at the time, it wasn't called episode 4 or the new hope yet. i must have watched this film more than thrice in my lifetime. i was 9 when i saw episode 5, the empire strikes back. subsequent viewings revealed dynamic scenes, something that would be reprised in episode 6, which i watched still another 3 years later, when i was 12. when the prequels started coming out in the 90s, i realised why episodes 5 and 6 remain the best of all the 6 episodes. george lucas had not directed those films. no wonder.
i don't remember when i watched the phantom menace but it was in one of the high tech makati theaters. same with the clone wars. both left me cold and bored. liam neeson was a drag (good thing darth maul got rid of him in a hurry, sorry qui gon) and it was hard for me to picture any chemistry happening between the kiddie-anakin and queen amidala (who, strangely, looked demoted in rank by the time this film got rolling). it was pretty much the same in episode 3, the revenge of the sith. the love between padme and anakin left me cold. i can't imagine how they even got themselves pregnant. there was more heat between portman and owen in 'closer'. that's one of the things i didn't like about episode 3. the love angle. completely sappy and corny. walang libog. the kisses were perfunctory. the second thing i didn't like about episode 3 was anakin himself. hayden was lacking in intensity all throughout the film. his costumed counterpart in the classic trilogy (eps. 4, 5, and 6) did a much better job! the supposed conversion scene --- the decisive turning from light to dark, from good to evil --- was over in a flash of an instant that had me and my moviemates wondering, "ha? yon na yonnnnn? ambilis!" my best friend and i thought that he had been dark from the start; the inner battle was not played out well in his character. perhaps lucas didn't even notice. i might have told hayden, had i been there, "take your time, dear, these things are life-changing moments!" but the scenes were only to happy to shift to another with the baduyic wiper effects reminiscent of the classic trilogy.
i couldn't hate the stilted dialogue. that is part and parcel of all star wars films. you don't enter the theater expecting pulitzer prize exchanges or woody allen wit. but i did expect more characterisation from anakin. after all, he IS the heart of the prequels! and he IS redeemed in episode 6 --- i had to see the battle raging in his heart as the force tore him apart. but i didn't.
there was more to love about this film. the avid star wars fan in me felt utterly geeky, making connections to all my unanswered questions from the previous episodes, more like the last 3, which i had seen more than 20 years ago. (well, a little lie there. i had seen the digitised versions in the last few years, also on the big screen hehehe) S lost the battle to shut my mouth from all my explosive, "aaaah, so that's how his lungs gave out on him..." or "aaahhh so that's why obi wan came back to life in star wars..." or "so that's why leia is a princess and luke is some impoverished dude" or "aaaaah so that's how leia got her mickey mouse hair" and this and that.
i enjoyed the CGI characters, definitely more than the humanoid jar jar binks or chewbacca! when they featured chewie in episode 3, i was snickering like a schoolgirl does over some pathetic loser. i can still remember han solo delivering his wry lines and chewie going, "arrrggghhhh" mundanely. mwahahahaha it makes me chuckle just to think about it. i still enjoyed watching yoda jump all over the place and royally kick ass with his light saber, even if sidious outdid him in the senate showdown. i thought mace windu (samuel jackson) looked terribly out of place in his jedi costume and flying through the air after a bolt of force lightning; i guess i just can't shake the image of him stealing a stradivarius violin in another film i love, "the red violin". and well, he was the voice of frozone in "the incredibles", so this should have hooved closer to his mace windu prowess in the movie. but it didn't quite cut it for me. i thought ewan mcgregor had more pizazz acting against a blue screen than hayden --- and this will prompt my best friend to say, "naman. ikumpara pa ba si ewan kay hayden???" hey, let me, even if it's totally non sequitur. after all, hayden got top billing for this film. heck, in the count dooku scene, christopher lee's 5 minute-moment on screen eclipsed hayden's prequel exposure! you could see so much more happening in lee's eyes when palpatine ordered anakin to kill him than you could see in hayden's eyes just before he decapacitated the unfortunate sithy lord.
and my last word goes to ian mcdarmid. he was fantastically evil as the ultimate sith lord. his face contortions, his malefic laugh, hooowow, he would give ian mckellen's magneto and christopher lee's (yes, the overturned apprentice in this film) saruman quite the comparison... well, no, of course magneto and saruman were the more compelling villains, but in a film as two-dimensional (my euphemism for 'flat') as this one, the archetypal approach to the cackling evil man outshone anakin's flatline presence. (grabe, even the young padawans in the jedi temple had more intensity!) still, i'm glad he played the role of sidious aka palpatine. it helped to give the film the feeling of evil and darkness it needed to lay down the final bricks for episode 4. when i saw the bare skeleton of the death star in the starry universey sky, i swear, my cheesy heart quickened its pace. i could actually see harrison ford doing hyperspace with his millenium falcon in the succeeding episodes!
enough of lucas ltd! i wanted to write about another film that had me crying with joy last night, except that this decidedly more sentimental one beat out the other one. but i will most definitely think longer and harder about johnny depp in "finding neverland". if anything, johnny depp is one of the actors i truly appreciate and lust over --- yes, even from his eddie snipping hands days.
my tummy's rolling gases around --- again --- and i must try to get some earlier shut-eye. i am going to attempt to rehearse on a real piano tomorrow morning. if i wake up early enough and if i can fish out my bach books. and that czech guy with the weird melodies. believe it or not, i'm off to catch the sexy christian bale and tom cruise's latest floozy in "batman begins" by the afternoon. this has got to be one of the craziest movie weeks i've had in a long time! nighty.
13.6.05
what she wrote
within the white pages of a well-loved notebook she had chronicled their love story. as a preface to her One True Love she had penned, "read this story to me... and i'll always come back." in her twilight years, living in a stately plantation home for the aged while fighting dementia, her sweetheart, best friend, husband, and lover stayed by her side, reading the story to her every day, patiently willing her to remember, even if just for 5 minutes, who she was, who she had loved, from where she had come. he had left the home he had built for the two of them to cater to her needs and devoted the rest of his life to be by her side. when his children begged him to "come home, we miss you", he said, "my home is where your mother is."
at the end of the movie, hands grasped tightly, neither S or i could breathe from the emotions swelling through our eyes. i told him that the love of noah for allie reminded me of his mommy's love for daddy. both had passed away within a year of each other. daddy went away in june, mommy the following may. S couldn't speak.
it's a love story only nicholas sparks can spin. it's the kind of crap young people sigh over then try to emulate and the kind of bullshit that someone like me hates to love. allie's predicament reminds me of my own predicament before i got married, and exactly how torn i was during the moment of truth: who do i choose? she was not choosing between someone she loved and someone she didn't love. noah put it succinctly: imagine your life 30 years down the road. who do you see? if it's me, then stay. if not, then go. the other man, lon, had something of his own to say: i want you to want to be with me. you have to want to be with me. i can't share you with anyone else. allie chose the man she wanted to be with and that made all the loving difference in her life.
i'd like to think that i chose the man i wanted to be with, who excited me, who made me want to always be a better me. this is the man i cannot bear to live without, whose presence (and consequently, absence) spells the difference between life and death. all i had to do in the crucial month i made my choice (6 months before i got married) was to close my eyes and contemplate what life would be like without S and such a fear gripped me that my reverie was broken. to this day, the sound of his key turning in the lock as he comes home has me happily anticipating the sight of his round face coming through the door while this inexplicable feeling of peace and security descends over myself and mikka.
it was father's day yesterday. on the eve i held mikka's warm body close to mine, singing, "beautiful, beautiful, papa is beautiful and papa makes beautiful things of my life... carefully, touching me, causing my eyes to see... and papa makes beautiful things of my life." mikka was pliant in my arms, letting my soft voice caress the side of his head crowned with his fine black hair. then i told him how papa is the most beautiful man in the world for both of us and that he and i are the happy, secure people we are because of papa's love. then mikka planted his hands on my chest, scrutinising my face. "mama, papa went to get food for us, right?" somehow, in his little baby heart, he knew that papa was out doing something 'beautiful' for us because just before i sang to him, i was telling mikka how hungry i was and that papa was coming home with food. and somehow, he connected that act with the song i had just sung to him.
i've run out of words.
at the end of the movie, hands grasped tightly, neither S or i could breathe from the emotions swelling through our eyes. i told him that the love of noah for allie reminded me of his mommy's love for daddy. both had passed away within a year of each other. daddy went away in june, mommy the following may. S couldn't speak.
it's a love story only nicholas sparks can spin. it's the kind of crap young people sigh over then try to emulate and the kind of bullshit that someone like me hates to love. allie's predicament reminds me of my own predicament before i got married, and exactly how torn i was during the moment of truth: who do i choose? she was not choosing between someone she loved and someone she didn't love. noah put it succinctly: imagine your life 30 years down the road. who do you see? if it's me, then stay. if not, then go. the other man, lon, had something of his own to say: i want you to want to be with me. you have to want to be with me. i can't share you with anyone else. allie chose the man she wanted to be with and that made all the loving difference in her life.
i'd like to think that i chose the man i wanted to be with, who excited me, who made me want to always be a better me. this is the man i cannot bear to live without, whose presence (and consequently, absence) spells the difference between life and death. all i had to do in the crucial month i made my choice (6 months before i got married) was to close my eyes and contemplate what life would be like without S and such a fear gripped me that my reverie was broken. to this day, the sound of his key turning in the lock as he comes home has me happily anticipating the sight of his round face coming through the door while this inexplicable feeling of peace and security descends over myself and mikka.
it was father's day yesterday. on the eve i held mikka's warm body close to mine, singing, "beautiful, beautiful, papa is beautiful and papa makes beautiful things of my life... carefully, touching me, causing my eyes to see... and papa makes beautiful things of my life." mikka was pliant in my arms, letting my soft voice caress the side of his head crowned with his fine black hair. then i told him how papa is the most beautiful man in the world for both of us and that he and i are the happy, secure people we are because of papa's love. then mikka planted his hands on my chest, scrutinising my face. "mama, papa went to get food for us, right?" somehow, in his little baby heart, he knew that papa was out doing something 'beautiful' for us because just before i sang to him, i was telling mikka how hungry i was and that papa was coming home with food. and somehow, he connected that act with the song i had just sung to him.
i've run out of words.
9.6.05
eternally spotless
someone dear once told me that what makes life worth living are the highs and lows, the valleys and the peaks. it's a classic viewpoint: to appreciate light, you must embrace shadow. to savour the victory, you must relish loss. i vaguely recall seeing something similar in literary theory, something to do with oppositions: light versus dark, good versus evil, male versus female. then the classic oriental resolution of yin and yang in an organic harmony that does away with the tension of forces straining in opposite directions to achieve balance. sometimes, the concept of submission, as in aikido and judo, punctures a hole in the classic dialectics of western thought.
in a world of niches (and nietzsche, as it turns out), or compartmentalisation, comes a story written by charlie kaufman, he of "being john malkovich" fame. what if, he contends, we can take away our pain, that memory which causes unhappiness and angst? then we can start over, move on, live happy lives. what is beyond our control, however, is how things come full circle. even as we attempt to erase the memory of a beloved from our lives, kaufman contends that no matter how you try to escape destiny, you are inevitably drawn to the person you are striving to forget.
what attracted me to the movie "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind", aside from its starring kate winslet, an actress i truly respect and jim carrey, a comedian i admire for the breadth of his talent, was the script itself. the writer was able to capture the pathos of a heart that has known what it is like to love and lose. to experience the dizzying highs of love's first kiss and the crushing despair of love's demise.
"why did you go?" she asked him wistfully.
"because you said 'so go!' with such disdain," he whispered brokenly.
"oh... i'm so... sorry." she was crestfallen.
the silence between them yawned. the evening sky swallowed a star.
"won't you stay this time? to say goodbye at least?" she asked softly.
he hesitated on the footbridge, looking at the distant bonfire where his friends had set up camp along the shoreline. he turned slowly towards her beseeching face, peeping from the stairway. then he walked back towards the house.
she ran out to meet him, her voice tinkling like chimes. "goodbye, joel."
the sea breeze dropped, creating a space for him to speak.
"i love you..."
and as the movie fades into the credits, we see clementine and joel running happily through a beach covered with powdery snow, their heavily-coated figures receding into the distance.
in a world of niches (and nietzsche, as it turns out), or compartmentalisation, comes a story written by charlie kaufman, he of "being john malkovich" fame. what if, he contends, we can take away our pain, that memory which causes unhappiness and angst? then we can start over, move on, live happy lives. what is beyond our control, however, is how things come full circle. even as we attempt to erase the memory of a beloved from our lives, kaufman contends that no matter how you try to escape destiny, you are inevitably drawn to the person you are striving to forget.
what attracted me to the movie "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind", aside from its starring kate winslet, an actress i truly respect and jim carrey, a comedian i admire for the breadth of his talent, was the script itself. the writer was able to capture the pathos of a heart that has known what it is like to love and lose. to experience the dizzying highs of love's first kiss and the crushing despair of love's demise.
"why did you go?" she asked him wistfully.
"because you said 'so go!' with such disdain," he whispered brokenly.
"oh... i'm so... sorry." she was crestfallen.
the silence between them yawned. the evening sky swallowed a star.
"won't you stay this time? to say goodbye at least?" she asked softly.
he hesitated on the footbridge, looking at the distant bonfire where his friends had set up camp along the shoreline. he turned slowly towards her beseeching face, peeping from the stairway. then he walked back towards the house.
she ran out to meet him, her voice tinkling like chimes. "goodbye, joel."
the sea breeze dropped, creating a space for him to speak.
"i love you..."
and as the movie fades into the credits, we see clementine and joel running happily through a beach covered with powdery snow, their heavily-coated figures receding into the distance.
6.6.05
from clay to grass
my favorite grand slam is over. next year, the french open begins on a sunday to boost television audiences. it doesn't matter to me; of the 14 days in the previous grand slam tournament, i was tuned in to 10. i started watching in round 3. i was let down some, like by gauston gaudio (last year's champion) and to a much lesser degree, by the 12th seed russian who lost to puerta in the semi-finals. i had hoped that pierce would be eliminated by either schnyder (seeded 10th) or the last russian girl in the final 4, who was seeded 19th. but she was at the top of her game and marched through her matches. she deserved to win up to the semi-finals.
but faced with the determined and talented wallonian justine henin-hardenne, i knew she would not hold ground. and she didn't. lopsided final that was over in little over an hour. ho-hum.
but the men's final... oh that was fantastic!!! i was rooting for the 19-year old teen sensation from mallorca but the unseeded argentinian played some fine tennis last sunday. by the 4th set, i felt myself wavering in my support for nadal and found myself applauding more appreciatively after each puerta point. but nadal has this going for him: a never-say-die attitude. even with the momentum swinging against him, he lunged after every impossible corner shot, ran down smashes, chased after drop shots... turning the game around when he was down 5-4 in the 4th set.
i've been enjoying the last 2 days browsing rafa's web site, reading articles written about his rising star and his chances in the next few years. i know he won't win the wimbledon just yet but i'm hoping that he will someday. i haven't felt this way towards a tennis player since steffi graf, and she's been retired since 2001 (i think). so i've been out of the circuit for a while (ha, i laugh at myself, i sound as if i'm part of the atp tour!) but rafa's worth getting back into the game for... and there's the beautiful 18-year old sharapova to pump up the cause for women's tennis. at least she wins grand slams, unlike the vain kournikova who endorses omega watches. what the---??? hehehe
if you wish to share in my glee, you can click here to go to rafa's web page. now i just have to think of ways i love being pinoy. lapit na toka ko sa blogkada. see you there in a few days' time.
but faced with the determined and talented wallonian justine henin-hardenne, i knew she would not hold ground. and she didn't. lopsided final that was over in little over an hour. ho-hum.
but the men's final... oh that was fantastic!!! i was rooting for the 19-year old teen sensation from mallorca but the unseeded argentinian played some fine tennis last sunday. by the 4th set, i felt myself wavering in my support for nadal and found myself applauding more appreciatively after each puerta point. but nadal has this going for him: a never-say-die attitude. even with the momentum swinging against him, he lunged after every impossible corner shot, ran down smashes, chased after drop shots... turning the game around when he was down 5-4 in the 4th set.
i've been enjoying the last 2 days browsing rafa's web site, reading articles written about his rising star and his chances in the next few years. i know he won't win the wimbledon just yet but i'm hoping that he will someday. i haven't felt this way towards a tennis player since steffi graf, and she's been retired since 2001 (i think). so i've been out of the circuit for a while (ha, i laugh at myself, i sound as if i'm part of the atp tour!) but rafa's worth getting back into the game for... and there's the beautiful 18-year old sharapova to pump up the cause for women's tennis. at least she wins grand slams, unlike the vain kournikova who endorses omega watches. what the---??? hehehe
if you wish to share in my glee, you can click here to go to rafa's web page. now i just have to think of ways i love being pinoy. lapit na toka ko sa blogkada. see you there in a few days' time.
5.6.05
tumpak!
one of my favorite columnists is at it again. he talks about the "work of learning" and i find that this article can apply to arenas outside of the academe. you see samples of critical thought --- or lack thereof, as is often the case --- in television talk shows, in radio shows, in blogs, in chat sessions, in drinking sessions. just about everywhere. the thing is, chat and drinking sessions are loose communication exchanges; no one expects you to come up with a washington post or new york times editorial every minute. you're having fun and if you launch into mind-wracking discussions, these are usually aided by alcohol and lots and lots of mirth.
tv/radio shows and blogs are different, though. people present opinions appealing to credibility --- theirs --- in their most persuasive fashion. between packaging (wooing) and actual content (critical thought), there is a great divide. listen to korina sanchez on her morning radio show and how she lambasts anyone she dislikes. how does she formulate her arguments? only she knows because a lambasting session is not a credible way to build and argument. sensationalism, i say. by simpy using the strength of her name, she is able to sway opinion, which is usually comprised of people who idolise personalities and not convictions. there are bloggers who present themselves as credible analysts by citing their credentials left and right, but a close examination of the issues they examine and the ideas they criticise are often a reflection of their own bull-headed biases. they employ all the tricks they picked up at university (and usually it's poor UP diliman that has all these hacks claiming their greatness because of it) and expectedly, their throng of unquestioning "friends" applaud their efforts and slather on the sticky praise.
it takes a lot of character to sift through the pervasive and intrusive opinions of "friends" and tell them, "you're not getting it quite right." i've had the pleasure of doing this to a strong-headed blogger and found my comments moderated (read: never posted). i did say "in the interest of precision and correctness, of which we are in pursuit..." and well, *benign chuckle* the comment never saw the light of day. i couldn't let this angry ex-legend-in-her-own mind issue blanket statements about catholic universities (especially MINE) when it was plainly clear that she simply did not have all the facts at hand and was relying on hodge-podge advertising techniques to make the claim "ALL universities must be thus."
enjoy this randy david classic by clicking here. in all probability, the people who should take this article's central thesis to heart will be the ones who will miss it (not because the language register is esoteric but because the subtle thought processes involved require sublime engagement --- and this, i doubt, these people can handle). if there's one thing my catholic university professors taught me, it was to separate the crap from the gold. and my dad, truest blue of the blues, told me to do it, well, ruthlessly. i only do that when the utter idiocy of matters is too overwhelming. then, as confucius said, "fuck it." yes, jesuits and their brainwashed lackeys do get the important things right.
the sheer irony of it all. *wink*
tv/radio shows and blogs are different, though. people present opinions appealing to credibility --- theirs --- in their most persuasive fashion. between packaging (wooing) and actual content (critical thought), there is a great divide. listen to korina sanchez on her morning radio show and how she lambasts anyone she dislikes. how does she formulate her arguments? only she knows because a lambasting session is not a credible way to build and argument. sensationalism, i say. by simpy using the strength of her name, she is able to sway opinion, which is usually comprised of people who idolise personalities and not convictions. there are bloggers who present themselves as credible analysts by citing their credentials left and right, but a close examination of the issues they examine and the ideas they criticise are often a reflection of their own bull-headed biases. they employ all the tricks they picked up at university (and usually it's poor UP diliman that has all these hacks claiming their greatness because of it) and expectedly, their throng of unquestioning "friends" applaud their efforts and slather on the sticky praise.
it takes a lot of character to sift through the pervasive and intrusive opinions of "friends" and tell them, "you're not getting it quite right." i've had the pleasure of doing this to a strong-headed blogger and found my comments moderated (read: never posted). i did say "in the interest of precision and correctness, of which we are in pursuit..." and well, *benign chuckle* the comment never saw the light of day. i couldn't let this angry ex-legend-in-her-own mind issue blanket statements about catholic universities (especially MINE) when it was plainly clear that she simply did not have all the facts at hand and was relying on hodge-podge advertising techniques to make the claim "ALL universities must be thus."
enjoy this randy david classic by clicking here. in all probability, the people who should take this article's central thesis to heart will be the ones who will miss it (not because the language register is esoteric but because the subtle thought processes involved require sublime engagement --- and this, i doubt, these people can handle). if there's one thing my catholic university professors taught me, it was to separate the crap from the gold. and my dad, truest blue of the blues, told me to do it, well, ruthlessly. i only do that when the utter idiocy of matters is too overwhelming. then, as confucius said, "fuck it." yes, jesuits and their brainwashed lackeys do get the important things right.
the sheer irony of it all. *wink*
where angels fear to tread
several times during the harrowing events of the past week, my son has seen me distraught. one time, my body was heaving with sobs i tried hard to conceal from him. he put his tiny hand over mine and said, "mama, it's ok. everything's ok, mama." then he put his arms around me and commanded me, "embrace!" it's embarrassing to look back, but it felt surreal to be surrendering my pain to my 3-year old son but he was so strong and radiant at that moment... and so serene.
another time i was lying on my side in bed, unable to sleep. my breath was coming in ragged installments but i was not aware of it until mikka rolled towards me and planted a kiss on my cheek. then S said, "tingnan mo, mama, alam ni mikka na kelangan mo niyan." the wetness on my face was strangely reassuring, like an indelible mark of love and support. something i have not gotten from areas i had thought were non-negotiable and a "sure thing".
every time things have gotten me down, i have tended to withdraw into my shell, sacrificing the attention i normally give my husband and son while licking my wounds. but moments of grace, of unconditional giving and beauty, have a way of puncturing the debilitating cloud of doubt and sadness that shrouds the inner sanctuary. mikka has always been my angel. that has been clear since i carried him in my belly for 38 weeks, affirming my second lease in life by making me his mother. we always pray 'angel of god' together before he sleeps... rather, when i remember to pray with him, meaning... when i'm not absorbed in my petty troubles.
it was a welcome break tonight when S went drinking in town with his fellow student buddies and i asked mikka at 930 if he wanted to go home. after asking me at least 20 times where his papa, tito A, and tito M were, i was able to get him in his jammies, brush his teeth, and to weewee in the toilet. he still has a bit of the nasty cough plaguing him all week. while i read him a story about pocahontas he looked at me in wonder, unaccustomed to see mama doing papa's normal routine. he fell asleep clutching my hand tightly --- or maybe it was the other way around --- breathing deeply and peacefully.
before he slipped into the warm comfort of slumber we prayed angel of god together. i usually trace the sign of the cross lightly on his forehead. tonight he did his own sign of the cross then said softly...
"mama, my angel is gone."
i groped for words. "oh mikka, your angel is always with you."
"where?"
"you can't see her, but she's always hugging you. she loves you very much."
"my angel?"
"yes, sweetheart. she never leaves you."
he lay thoughtfully in the gathering dusk. i could see the dark orbs of his eyes combing the shadow of my face. i felt a loud pounding in my ears and willed for it to stop. it seemed an eternity before i realised it was my heart. then he squeezed my hand before his first soft snore filled the room. for the first time in what has felt like forever, something crept quietly into my limbs --- like a sob that never reached expression, losing all impetus for doing so. clinging to the small hand, i fell into a restful sleep, the first i've had in ages.
another time i was lying on my side in bed, unable to sleep. my breath was coming in ragged installments but i was not aware of it until mikka rolled towards me and planted a kiss on my cheek. then S said, "tingnan mo, mama, alam ni mikka na kelangan mo niyan." the wetness on my face was strangely reassuring, like an indelible mark of love and support. something i have not gotten from areas i had thought were non-negotiable and a "sure thing".
every time things have gotten me down, i have tended to withdraw into my shell, sacrificing the attention i normally give my husband and son while licking my wounds. but moments of grace, of unconditional giving and beauty, have a way of puncturing the debilitating cloud of doubt and sadness that shrouds the inner sanctuary. mikka has always been my angel. that has been clear since i carried him in my belly for 38 weeks, affirming my second lease in life by making me his mother. we always pray 'angel of god' together before he sleeps... rather, when i remember to pray with him, meaning... when i'm not absorbed in my petty troubles.
it was a welcome break tonight when S went drinking in town with his fellow student buddies and i asked mikka at 930 if he wanted to go home. after asking me at least 20 times where his papa, tito A, and tito M were, i was able to get him in his jammies, brush his teeth, and to weewee in the toilet. he still has a bit of the nasty cough plaguing him all week. while i read him a story about pocahontas he looked at me in wonder, unaccustomed to see mama doing papa's normal routine. he fell asleep clutching my hand tightly --- or maybe it was the other way around --- breathing deeply and peacefully.
before he slipped into the warm comfort of slumber we prayed angel of god together. i usually trace the sign of the cross lightly on his forehead. tonight he did his own sign of the cross then said softly...
"mama, my angel is gone."
i groped for words. "oh mikka, your angel is always with you."
"where?"
"you can't see her, but she's always hugging you. she loves you very much."
"my angel?"
"yes, sweetheart. she never leaves you."
he lay thoughtfully in the gathering dusk. i could see the dark orbs of his eyes combing the shadow of my face. i felt a loud pounding in my ears and willed for it to stop. it seemed an eternity before i realised it was my heart. then he squeezed my hand before his first soft snore filled the room. for the first time in what has felt like forever, something crept quietly into my limbs --- like a sob that never reached expression, losing all impetus for doing so. clinging to the small hand, i fell into a restful sleep, the first i've had in ages.
1.6.05
tough but true
the internet is indeed a world wide web. there is a universe out there. from your tiny spot of table and desk your reach is soooo wide. and like a web, it can ensnare. i never thought i'd force such a view but sometimes, things happen and you can't help but think that.
here are some lessons i have learned from my one year in the world of blogging. methinks i'll number them for clarity.
1. leave the chatting as a back up plan. i wouldn't trust it as a medium for getting to know someone. there are people who are made of sterner stuff and can take words at their face value; lucky for you to come across this enlightened lot! but for the most part, there will always be MORE people who do not understand the full importance of words. sabi nga ni st thomas more, your word is who you are. if you let it slip through your fingers, then who are you? if i were to look back over the nasty chat transcripts i have witnessed --- unfortunately --- it is a tragic portrait of humanity that one sees. if you don't believe in god, such evidence should be enough to seal you into happy agnosticism or atheism for life. remember, you can chat, but only with people you ALREADY know. never rely on it as your primary means of communication. if you do, you are setting yourself up for major major disappointments.
2. eyeball is part of the farce. yes, it is also a part of your face... if you're one of those people who are gung-ho about EB's, or eyeballs, in radio parlance (meeting someone you don't know for the first time because of digital exchanges), never forget the saying that prudence is the better part of valour. i got invited to my first ever eyeball last year and being the adventuress i was (and so misguidedly proud of it too), i said yes without thinking. i've traveled to so many places before, what was this brief trip but just another drop in the sea? it turned out to be a shakespearean moment: star-crossed from the start. there was the mistrust already. i felt it then but since the person had invited me, i took it all in good faith. months later, this same person would bite me in the ass with some of the most hurtful words that can transpire between people who have met and have claimed friendship rights. i always thought that a friend was someone who could never use or twist events against you when they got upset. but this same person i am talking about was the same person in my previous entry who never told me to my face that she was upset with me, angry with me... and opted to tell everyone ELSE about her feelings, in the process influencing everybody else's opinions against me. well, those other people who allowed themselves to believe that person are part of another story but not one i will bother telling. it's too boring to discuss.
to reiterate my point: beware the comeliness of eyeball's. rule of thumb? if you absolutely MUST meet a fellow blogger or chatter... i suggest you do it in small groups. no more than 3 or 4, perhaps? but i am truly against such incidents for the simple reason that it has burned me in a way i do not wish to replicate. it's not worth it, i tell you. not worth it, if at the end of the road the very same people you chose to trust will be the first to hurl the stone at your perceived wrongs.
3. birds of a feather DO flock together. e-groups and e-forums have the opiate effect of convincing you that the world is a happy place and there can be utopia --- at least in that space of yea-sayers. mark my words: if in real life you choose people you want to be with, so let that principle govern your cyber life. you can only go so far with the niceties but time has a way of leveling the playing field, so to speak, and of revealing your affiliations, no matter how you try to hide it. you will eventually end up with the people who share your ideals and principles. that's just how it is. i have learned to stop asking why.
4. for every happy secure individual, there will be 10 insecure ones. what a sad statistic. i wouldn't question the veracity of the figure; my point is simply to paint proportions, skewed though they be. if you are too happy, too nice, too trusting, it will backfire. if you mean well, if you show concern for other people in the blogosphere, you cannot tell how others will take it. chances are, people will read it in a different light. they might twist the situation and make you out to be a kibitzer or malicious person. the cynic will say, why bother doing good? assume everyone's an asshole. and this should well be your guiding principle in internet relationships. assume that everybody is an asshole unless proven innocent. eerie, my dad's words haunt me through the years. see, dad? i'm learning, albeit late in life. but it makes sense to me now. it really does. nothing like getting burned for me to finally know what you had tried to tell me all those years. now i think i know what you tried to say to me... thank god your ear's still in place. ;)
5. the internet is an onion world. there are so many layers in the internet. it's useless trying to peel them all. just take it as it is and learn to like the flavour it brings. but don't expect it to change into something it can never be, like transparent salmon or the like. sheesh, i'll leave the food metaphor to the foodies, baka may masabi pa ang mga feeling foodie dyan.
6. keep that journal handy. for all my words of doom and gloom, if you're a real writer, then writing is the ultimate satisfaction in itself, regardless of the medium. i had to learn the hard way that if i write, i write only for myself. acid42 told me that in a chat session long ago and at the time, i didn't understand his cryptic message to me. in the end, we write for ourselves alone. rather, if by some unhappy circumstance you've found yourself trusting someone you shouldn't have, or putting too much premium on an eyeball, or hankering for the comments of readers, you can always go back to the premise that you write for yourself first and all the rest besides. and it doesn't hurt to have a real journal with you to capture your personal private feelings. put thoughts and ideas on the net but feelings, oh please, keep them to yourself. it is not worth it getting judged for your feelings. believe me, people can be very cruel. even the nice looking ones. usually they're the ones with tons of unresolved issues in their lives.
abangan ang susunod kong blog: the issues people have --- how we can match them with the kinds of blogs they write.
4th of june 2005 --> i did post an entry earlier about the types of bloggers i have come across but considering that i am still blogging, i don't think it is proper for me to post that for public consumption. i've decided to put my thoughts in a more circumspect space, more for my protection and prudence than anything else. i have loving people to thank for their concern. i have been hurt enough and it is time i stopped posting my feelings on the net because it's simply too public. from hereon, i shall endeavor to write only about issues. it's the safer path and also the less controversial one. there are other mediums for one to express one's deepest hurts and joys and... people are right (those who have expressed concern to me about my recent entry classifying the kinds of bloggers i have come across), the internet is not that medium. amen! :)
heto ang inyong tagapaglingkod, signing off. baboo.
here are some lessons i have learned from my one year in the world of blogging. methinks i'll number them for clarity.
1. leave the chatting as a back up plan. i wouldn't trust it as a medium for getting to know someone. there are people who are made of sterner stuff and can take words at their face value; lucky for you to come across this enlightened lot! but for the most part, there will always be MORE people who do not understand the full importance of words. sabi nga ni st thomas more, your word is who you are. if you let it slip through your fingers, then who are you? if i were to look back over the nasty chat transcripts i have witnessed --- unfortunately --- it is a tragic portrait of humanity that one sees. if you don't believe in god, such evidence should be enough to seal you into happy agnosticism or atheism for life. remember, you can chat, but only with people you ALREADY know. never rely on it as your primary means of communication. if you do, you are setting yourself up for major major disappointments.
2. eyeball is part of the farce. yes, it is also a part of your face... if you're one of those people who are gung-ho about EB's, or eyeballs, in radio parlance (meeting someone you don't know for the first time because of digital exchanges), never forget the saying that prudence is the better part of valour. i got invited to my first ever eyeball last year and being the adventuress i was (and so misguidedly proud of it too), i said yes without thinking. i've traveled to so many places before, what was this brief trip but just another drop in the sea? it turned out to be a shakespearean moment: star-crossed from the start. there was the mistrust already. i felt it then but since the person had invited me, i took it all in good faith. months later, this same person would bite me in the ass with some of the most hurtful words that can transpire between people who have met and have claimed friendship rights. i always thought that a friend was someone who could never use or twist events against you when they got upset. but this same person i am talking about was the same person in my previous entry who never told me to my face that she was upset with me, angry with me... and opted to tell everyone ELSE about her feelings, in the process influencing everybody else's opinions against me. well, those other people who allowed themselves to believe that person are part of another story but not one i will bother telling. it's too boring to discuss.
to reiterate my point: beware the comeliness of eyeball's. rule of thumb? if you absolutely MUST meet a fellow blogger or chatter... i suggest you do it in small groups. no more than 3 or 4, perhaps? but i am truly against such incidents for the simple reason that it has burned me in a way i do not wish to replicate. it's not worth it, i tell you. not worth it, if at the end of the road the very same people you chose to trust will be the first to hurl the stone at your perceived wrongs.
3. birds of a feather DO flock together. e-groups and e-forums have the opiate effect of convincing you that the world is a happy place and there can be utopia --- at least in that space of yea-sayers. mark my words: if in real life you choose people you want to be with, so let that principle govern your cyber life. you can only go so far with the niceties but time has a way of leveling the playing field, so to speak, and of revealing your affiliations, no matter how you try to hide it. you will eventually end up with the people who share your ideals and principles. that's just how it is. i have learned to stop asking why.
4. for every happy secure individual, there will be 10 insecure ones. what a sad statistic. i wouldn't question the veracity of the figure; my point is simply to paint proportions, skewed though they be. if you are too happy, too nice, too trusting, it will backfire. if you mean well, if you show concern for other people in the blogosphere, you cannot tell how others will take it. chances are, people will read it in a different light. they might twist the situation and make you out to be a kibitzer or malicious person. the cynic will say, why bother doing good? assume everyone's an asshole. and this should well be your guiding principle in internet relationships. assume that everybody is an asshole unless proven innocent. eerie, my dad's words haunt me through the years. see, dad? i'm learning, albeit late in life. but it makes sense to me now. it really does. nothing like getting burned for me to finally know what you had tried to tell me all those years. now i think i know what you tried to say to me... thank god your ear's still in place. ;)
5. the internet is an onion world. there are so many layers in the internet. it's useless trying to peel them all. just take it as it is and learn to like the flavour it brings. but don't expect it to change into something it can never be, like transparent salmon or the like. sheesh, i'll leave the food metaphor to the foodies, baka may masabi pa ang mga feeling foodie dyan.
6. keep that journal handy. for all my words of doom and gloom, if you're a real writer, then writing is the ultimate satisfaction in itself, regardless of the medium. i had to learn the hard way that if i write, i write only for myself. acid42 told me that in a chat session long ago and at the time, i didn't understand his cryptic message to me. in the end, we write for ourselves alone. rather, if by some unhappy circumstance you've found yourself trusting someone you shouldn't have, or putting too much premium on an eyeball, or hankering for the comments of readers, you can always go back to the premise that you write for yourself first and all the rest besides. and it doesn't hurt to have a real journal with you to capture your personal private feelings. put thoughts and ideas on the net but feelings, oh please, keep them to yourself. it is not worth it getting judged for your feelings. believe me, people can be very cruel. even the nice looking ones. usually they're the ones with tons of unresolved issues in their lives.
abangan ang susunod kong blog: the issues people have --- how we can match them with the kinds of blogs they write.
4th of june 2005 --> i did post an entry earlier about the types of bloggers i have come across but considering that i am still blogging, i don't think it is proper for me to post that for public consumption. i've decided to put my thoughts in a more circumspect space, more for my protection and prudence than anything else. i have loving people to thank for their concern. i have been hurt enough and it is time i stopped posting my feelings on the net because it's simply too public. from hereon, i shall endeavor to write only about issues. it's the safer path and also the less controversial one. there are other mediums for one to express one's deepest hurts and joys and... people are right (those who have expressed concern to me about my recent entry classifying the kinds of bloggers i have come across), the internet is not that medium. amen! :)
heto ang inyong tagapaglingkod, signing off. baboo.
31.5.05
it's a question of trust
fragile like a baby in your arms... be gentle with me... --- depeche mode
my sister in law was the most recent to tell me: stop trusting too easily. the older i get, the harder it gets for me to cope with people's misjudgements and misperceptions of me. the latest kabam that happened had to do with a bunch of people i thought were my friends (in my multiply, they were listed as "friends" instead of "online buddies") and who were quick to believe the word of someone they had never met. without asking me if what they had heard was true, they immediately assumed the worst about me and turned cold. i felt it but i didn't want to assume that they would do something so... well, so silly. after all, we had broken bread together, in the case of the one person who had spread the chismis, we had met twice... but it wasn't enough!
they were content to let their insecurities (that's the only thing i can think of at this point) to get the better of them and for them to just take the easy way out (read: assume Svelte Rogue is the evil, konyotic, elitist, pa-santa girl she is). at a great price: breach of trust and friendship. because through it all, i waited for them, just ONE of them, to ask me how i was (i was sad throughout the entire stupid drama), for the chismosas to ask me if what they had heard was true... but not a word, not even a squeak. then my email inbox exploded with the most horrific letter (this part edited out of prudence --- what i can muster at least*), copy furnished to everyone who had been part of the (edited to:) situation* (except for one girl who was at the heart of their malicious talk). and then to top it off, other people replied to that email, assuming that accusations hurled in that email were true. take this line: i'm sorry, rogue, that you did this... wt(edited to:) hell??? the person who wrote that line has no right to feel sad or what-have-you (edited to: will feel sad, naturally, and it will be partly because understanding was not sought), considering she didn't even bother to ask me what i was feeling, of what had happened. the nerve.
i never replied to that email. let them think what they want. to take back what i wrote earlier, ONE person did ask me how i was. she was the one who told me that there was a nasty email sitting in my inbox... she stayed up with me way past midnight, bearing the initial reactions from me (i thought i wasn't bothered or maybe i was just trying to project that). if anything, for every 10 insecure demons in the dark, it takes only 1 pure angel of light to dispel the malicious murmurings of small-minded people. for that girl, that beautiful angel, i will always be grateful. she may not be my closest friend in the world but she definitely cared enough to ask me how i was doing and expressed concern that this situation might do harm to my baby.
then this is where i made my mistake. i told my true-blue 'friends' about the mess. showed them the email. my rationale? turn to them in need. reaction? the person i knew in real life, whom i had spent a year with in my jvp experience, believed the email accusations (et tu, brute???) and to cut the story short, turned her back on me. in a most unceremonial fashion too, i might add. but i stood silently (well, i did squeak a bit but to no avail). of course she would be hurt by the strength of that email (like i told you, it was edited to: strong) but i had hoped, too much now i realise, that she would see beyond it and see ME. i guess she never got to that point. she just assumed that she had to cut out the person causing the harm and in her eyes, that person was me. even if i had not made any move against anyone at all in everything that had transpired. that's why it was a mistake because i had showed her that email, thinking she would somehow, somehow, see through it.
as i write this now, days after the fact, resignation is sitting serenely in my bones. when i told my sister in law about this most arrogant "friend's" actions, she had the sweetest, blunt words for me: ditch the bitch and move on. :) nothing like family to be on your side when even your real-life friends avoid you like the plague.
so bloggie world, in this space you will read me and most of my thoughts uncensored. for you to enjoy your stay here, it would be best if i didn't know you from real life (doesn't apply to my best friend, family, and cool friends) because knowing you doesn't necessarily mean that we move in the same circles. if you're a blogger, you're either someone who has found me intimidating strong-willed or whatever impression you have based on my use of words (it is my business to wield them). so stay if you wish but please, don't use me for your politics in whatever egroup forum you have. from now on, wala akong paki sa mga intriga ninyong lahat. pati kayong tinuring kong tunay na kaibigan.
so, tuloy ang inuman!!! quarterfinals na ng french open. time to enjoy art in motion.
editing done friday, 4 june 2005. let this be the only thing anyone will ever know about this affair. after this day, i don't even want to talk about this sh*t anymore. it has caused enough hurt and stress as it is (even to well-meaning people). i will say no more.
my sister in law was the most recent to tell me: stop trusting too easily. the older i get, the harder it gets for me to cope with people's misjudgements and misperceptions of me. the latest kabam that happened had to do with a bunch of people i thought were my friends (in my multiply, they were listed as "friends" instead of "online buddies") and who were quick to believe the word of someone they had never met. without asking me if what they had heard was true, they immediately assumed the worst about me and turned cold. i felt it but i didn't want to assume that they would do something so... well, so silly. after all, we had broken bread together, in the case of the one person who had spread the chismis, we had met twice... but it wasn't enough!
they were content to let their insecurities (that's the only thing i can think of at this point) to get the better of them and for them to just take the easy way out (read: assume Svelte Rogue is the evil, konyotic, elitist, pa-santa girl she is). at a great price: breach of trust and friendship. because through it all, i waited for them, just ONE of them, to ask me how i was (i was sad throughout the entire stupid drama), for the chismosas to ask me if what they had heard was true... but not a word, not even a squeak. then my email inbox exploded with the most horrific letter (this part edited out of prudence --- what i can muster at least*), copy furnished to everyone who had been part of the (edited to:) situation* (except for one girl who was at the heart of their malicious talk). and then to top it off, other people replied to that email, assuming that accusations hurled in that email were true. take this line: i'm sorry, rogue, that you did this... wt(edited to:) hell??? the person who wrote that line has no right to feel sad or what-have-you (edited to: will feel sad, naturally, and it will be partly because understanding was not sought), considering she didn't even bother to ask me what i was feeling, of what had happened. the nerve.
i never replied to that email. let them think what they want. to take back what i wrote earlier, ONE person did ask me how i was. she was the one who told me that there was a nasty email sitting in my inbox... she stayed up with me way past midnight, bearing the initial reactions from me (i thought i wasn't bothered or maybe i was just trying to project that). if anything, for every 10 insecure demons in the dark, it takes only 1 pure angel of light to dispel the malicious murmurings of small-minded people. for that girl, that beautiful angel, i will always be grateful. she may not be my closest friend in the world but she definitely cared enough to ask me how i was doing and expressed concern that this situation might do harm to my baby.
then this is where i made my mistake. i told my true-blue 'friends' about the mess. showed them the email. my rationale? turn to them in need. reaction? the person i knew in real life, whom i had spent a year with in my jvp experience, believed the email accusations (et tu, brute???) and to cut the story short, turned her back on me. in a most unceremonial fashion too, i might add. but i stood silently (well, i did squeak a bit but to no avail). of course she would be hurt by the strength of that email (like i told you, it was edited to: strong) but i had hoped, too much now i realise, that she would see beyond it and see ME. i guess she never got to that point. she just assumed that she had to cut out the person causing the harm and in her eyes, that person was me. even if i had not made any move against anyone at all in everything that had transpired. that's why it was a mistake because i had showed her that email, thinking she would somehow, somehow, see through it.
as i write this now, days after the fact, resignation is sitting serenely in my bones. when i told my sister in law about this most arrogant "friend's" actions, she had the sweetest, blunt words for me: ditch the bitch and move on. :) nothing like family to be on your side when even your real-life friends avoid you like the plague.
so bloggie world, in this space you will read me and most of my thoughts uncensored. for you to enjoy your stay here, it would be best if i didn't know you from real life (doesn't apply to my best friend, family, and cool friends) because knowing you doesn't necessarily mean that we move in the same circles. if you're a blogger, you're either someone who has found me intimidating strong-willed or whatever impression you have based on my use of words (it is my business to wield them). so stay if you wish but please, don't use me for your politics in whatever egroup forum you have. from now on, wala akong paki sa mga intriga ninyong lahat. pati kayong tinuring kong tunay na kaibigan.
so, tuloy ang inuman!!! quarterfinals na ng french open. time to enjoy art in motion.
editing done friday, 4 june 2005. let this be the only thing anyone will ever know about this affair. after this day, i don't even want to talk about this sh*t anymore. it has caused enough hurt and stress as it is (even to well-meaning people). i will say no more.
29.5.05
belated round 3 thoughts
during the french open yesterday, the 2nd day of round 3, i was able to catch two women's singles matches. the first one was an all-russian affair: sharapova versus chakvetadze. a grand slam titlist versus a fresh-faced teenager. both were slim, with long blond hair (the number two seed had hers in a glorious pony tail while the younger player had hers in a thick braid) capped by a visor, wearing crosses on a gold chain. and get this: similar outfits. feminine tennis dresses that highlighted their lean legs and beautiful figures. the only way i could tell them apart was by the colour of their clothes. sharapova was in nike pink while chakvetadze was in light blue. it was quite uncanny. and it definitely provided eye candy to the appreciative members of the audience. i'm sure my dad and brother enjoyed the match immensely, even if it was lacklustre in the area of rallies and winners; it was a slugfest that was lost rather than won. statistics revealed an embarrassingly high number of unforced errors. you can read the story here.
the second women's match was like watching wonder twins power activate. i thought i was seeing double. the split screen with the players warming up for the match showed two women wearing the same grey and white adidas outfit, from the cap to the shoes. both players even had the same length of hair, were wearing similar stud earrings, and sported the same body build (stocky and short). they both had a bit of tummy bulging a little over the mini skirt. it was amusing, to say the least. i later found out it was belgium's pride, justin henin-hardenne, against the hardy spaniard, anabel medina garrigues. i could identify henin-hardenne by the bandage on her hamstring but otherwise, it was difficult to ascertain who was who during the rallies, especially if i didn't know who had served the game. you can read the story here.
all in all, i thoroughly enjoyed what i did catch. the clay courts at roland garros are heating up as we enter round 4. this is still my favorite grand slam event. i've seen priceless matches on this surface, my favorite being the french open finals the year steffi graf retired (right after winning the french open from martina hingis). what a match!!! the german powerhouse in a slim package outclassed the impetuous swiss miss who resorted to all sorts of tricks and tears to win. if anything, it probably also signaled the demise of hingis' career.
the second women's match was like watching wonder twins power activate. i thought i was seeing double. the split screen with the players warming up for the match showed two women wearing the same grey and white adidas outfit, from the cap to the shoes. both players even had the same length of hair, were wearing similar stud earrings, and sported the same body build (stocky and short). they both had a bit of tummy bulging a little over the mini skirt. it was amusing, to say the least. i later found out it was belgium's pride, justin henin-hardenne, against the hardy spaniard, anabel medina garrigues. i could identify henin-hardenne by the bandage on her hamstring but otherwise, it was difficult to ascertain who was who during the rallies, especially if i didn't know who had served the game. you can read the story here.
all in all, i thoroughly enjoyed what i did catch. the clay courts at roland garros are heating up as we enter round 4. this is still my favorite grand slam event. i've seen priceless matches on this surface, my favorite being the french open finals the year steffi graf retired (right after winning the french open from martina hingis). what a match!!! the german powerhouse in a slim package outclassed the impetuous swiss miss who resorted to all sorts of tricks and tears to win. if anything, it probably also signaled the demise of hingis' career.
pulling the plug
while talking to S over late lunch today, a thought sliced through the emotional fog coating the moment.
scenario: someone is about to pull the plug on you. just as the plug is to be pulled, sparks of life course through your veins. then like a power outage, everything is snuffed out as the plug is disconnected from the wall.
parallelism: just when i had made what i thought were essential or fundamental decisions regarding my relationship with cyberspace, the new sparks of realisations were snuffed out.
some things can't be helped. i can understand and respect the decisions and the motivations behind the decisions. life goes on. and in line with the new outlook towards this mundane space of the internet, this can only flow through me and take everything along with it and leave, in the end, only peace and more wisdom.
scenario: someone is about to pull the plug on you. just as the plug is to be pulled, sparks of life course through your veins. then like a power outage, everything is snuffed out as the plug is disconnected from the wall.
parallelism: just when i had made what i thought were essential or fundamental decisions regarding my relationship with cyberspace, the new sparks of realisations were snuffed out.
some things can't be helped. i can understand and respect the decisions and the motivations behind the decisions. life goes on. and in line with the new outlook towards this mundane space of the internet, this can only flow through me and take everything along with it and leave, in the end, only peace and more wisdom.
28.5.05
upswing
there was this musical we had in high school where we, the cast, were happily belting out the line, "everything's coming up rooooossssseeeeesssss!!!!" oh the fun of those days. my stressors looked like this: choir rehearsal, gymnastics, boy-watching, hang out. there was a scholarship to maintain and which i luckily got to keep for all of 7 years while getting to know some of the brightest people my age. one of them was given an honorary title at rutger's university several years back after he stepped off a ledge and died. he was brilliant, shourjo madhab. so they set up a memorial for him. and he sat next to me in calculus and chemistry IB. his locker was just a few numbers down from mine in the senior lounge and well, he was just such a roly poly geek.
ahhh my mood's on an upswing. parent center has told me that in my 9th week i should expect more mood swings and since i've had practice the last few weeks, i'm getting the hang of it. i just have to shake off my sleepiness in the afternoons and go swimming again, before my tummy pops out. i will have to get myself a sports bikini. i intend to keep swimming until my 8th month or until the doc says i can.
just last week my bike rammed into the rear bumper of this ill (silly) belgian driver who was cutting me off. i swear i flew off my seat and the rear tire of my bike went 30 degrees or so into the air. i thought i would end up on top of her trunk! i remember explaining the road rule of priority to her spaced out-ness. we exchanged numbers but i don't feel like pursuing this any longer. it's not like i'll get anything out of it plus! it's stress i don't want.
my mood is rising... the temperatures have reached the 20s. when i went to pick up my son earlier from kinder class, i felt like a certified MILF. not caring if people saw my slightly protruding belly, i donned a spag strap number and skorts (yes, a wrap around shorts number that looks like a skirt in front). i enjoyed the admiring glances and thought that if i didn't have the giveaway child seat on the back of my bike, i could have turned my arms on the handlebars to exhibit my toned arms further. hehehe the little quirks a crazy girl like me enjoys from time to time. hindi ba naman gaganda muscles ko sa kabubuhat sa 20 kilos na bata at sa pagbibisikleta sa mga pataas pababa dito! hehehe
mas masaya na ako lately and i'm glad. really really glad. hope this continues! as my dear classmate in linguistics loves to say, tata...
ahhh my mood's on an upswing. parent center has told me that in my 9th week i should expect more mood swings and since i've had practice the last few weeks, i'm getting the hang of it. i just have to shake off my sleepiness in the afternoons and go swimming again, before my tummy pops out. i will have to get myself a sports bikini. i intend to keep swimming until my 8th month or until the doc says i can.
just last week my bike rammed into the rear bumper of this ill (silly) belgian driver who was cutting me off. i swear i flew off my seat and the rear tire of my bike went 30 degrees or so into the air. i thought i would end up on top of her trunk! i remember explaining the road rule of priority to her spaced out-ness. we exchanged numbers but i don't feel like pursuing this any longer. it's not like i'll get anything out of it plus! it's stress i don't want.
my mood is rising... the temperatures have reached the 20s. when i went to pick up my son earlier from kinder class, i felt like a certified MILF. not caring if people saw my slightly protruding belly, i donned a spag strap number and skorts (yes, a wrap around shorts number that looks like a skirt in front). i enjoyed the admiring glances and thought that if i didn't have the giveaway child seat on the back of my bike, i could have turned my arms on the handlebars to exhibit my toned arms further. hehehe the little quirks a crazy girl like me enjoys from time to time. hindi ba naman gaganda muscles ko sa kabubuhat sa 20 kilos na bata at sa pagbibisikleta sa mga pataas pababa dito! hehehe
mas masaya na ako lately and i'm glad. really really glad. hope this continues! as my dear classmate in linguistics loves to say, tata...
26.5.05
heto kayong lahat umph!!!
ang saya saya mag blog, alam niyo yon? nothing beats the amazing concept behind blogging. you can rant and rave and do whatever the hell you want in your own byte of space called the world wide web and no one ought to infringe on your prerogative to just write. bahala na si spiderman kung anong klaseng kalibre mailabas mo sa iyong pagsusulat but hey malay, this is a free country!
sa kabila kong mundo, na-realise ko na kung talagang i will enjoy anything --- and that includes the B word... Blogging! --- i will have to first believe in its goodness, then embrace that belief in order to own it (which means being true to myself and not some gardem hypocrite!), and then pursue it with passion and excellence. in all areas, aba! i see no problems with that because, well, i was made for excellence, i am passion personified, and love (or lust) is my DNA's central code!!!
whap bam boogey... i feel like a dance. yun pa isa. ang sarap sumayaw!!! if there's one thing i love, it's dancing. it's my (not secret anymore) first love, even over singing. but then i think i revealed this in my other blogger account, don sa 100 tips or something, kung magtyaga kayo, makikita nyo ata don, unless i edited it already (i have edited that entry twice or thrice na ata). kapag marunong kang sumayaw at makisayaw, i believe kuha mo na ang secret of harmony. kelangan natutumbukan mo ang natural rhythm ng pakner mo, nakukuha mo ang bawat pintig ng bawat galaw niya at parang nababasa mo na kung san papunta ang sunod na tibok ng kanyang buhay para seamless ang dance step.
ganyan din ang blogging. may pinakikisamahan ka at pag mahanap mo na ang iyong grub (groove yan, mga dahlingz), aba, kahit nakapikit ka o mabulag ka pa, you can dance with your blog-harmo-mates kahit wala pang tugtog. dyan mo lang masasabing masarap mag blog. otherwise, if you have other motives in mind, like pasikat here and there, making talbog the other blogs here and there, making parinig and whatever, sira ang harmoness! sira lahat.
kaya mga kapatid, kung DI lang ang hinahanap niyo, narito lang ako, at your service. come a-knockin' and i'll come a-answerin' mah door. and don't forget the sexy music. favorite ko ang mga latin dances: rhumba, cha-cha, reggae, samba. puede rin sa akin ang foxtrot (ay kilig) at dirty dancing (giling giling). wag lang yung magbabali ka ng buto sa dance floor, di ko yan feel!!!
and before i go, check out the links i peppered all over this blog... ang saya saya, puede mo ring kasayaw ang mga mapupuntahan niyo!!! tulad nga nang sabi ni delish, "alang basagan ng trip!" ha-yaaaah!!!!
sa kabila kong mundo, na-realise ko na kung talagang i will enjoy anything --- and that includes the B word... Blogging! --- i will have to first believe in its goodness, then embrace that belief in order to own it (which means being true to myself and not some gardem hypocrite!), and then pursue it with passion and excellence. in all areas, aba! i see no problems with that because, well, i was made for excellence, i am passion personified, and love (or lust) is my DNA's central code!!!
whap bam boogey... i feel like a dance. yun pa isa. ang sarap sumayaw!!! if there's one thing i love, it's dancing. it's my (not secret anymore) first love, even over singing. but then i think i revealed this in my other blogger account, don sa 100 tips or something, kung magtyaga kayo, makikita nyo ata don, unless i edited it already (i have edited that entry twice or thrice na ata). kapag marunong kang sumayaw at makisayaw, i believe kuha mo na ang secret of harmony. kelangan natutumbukan mo ang natural rhythm ng pakner mo, nakukuha mo ang bawat pintig ng bawat galaw niya at parang nababasa mo na kung san papunta ang sunod na tibok ng kanyang buhay para seamless ang dance step.
ganyan din ang blogging. may pinakikisamahan ka at pag mahanap mo na ang iyong grub (groove yan, mga dahlingz), aba, kahit nakapikit ka o mabulag ka pa, you can dance with your blog-harmo-mates kahit wala pang tugtog. dyan mo lang masasabing masarap mag blog. otherwise, if you have other motives in mind, like pasikat here and there, making talbog the other blogs here and there, making parinig and whatever, sira ang harmoness! sira lahat.
kaya mga kapatid, kung DI lang ang hinahanap niyo, narito lang ako, at your service. come a-knockin' and i'll come a-answerin' mah door. and don't forget the sexy music. favorite ko ang mga latin dances: rhumba, cha-cha, reggae, samba. puede rin sa akin ang foxtrot (ay kilig) at dirty dancing (giling giling). wag lang yung magbabali ka ng buto sa dance floor, di ko yan feel!!!
and before i go, check out the links i peppered all over this blog... ang saya saya, puede mo ring kasayaw ang mga mapupuntahan niyo!!! tulad nga nang sabi ni delish, "alang basagan ng trip!" ha-yaaaah!!!!
17.5.05
weirded out
right now my hormones are playing havoc on my body and emotions. just last night, while writing an email to a good friend (whom i have never met but would love to), tears started clouding my vision and i ended up sobbing on my husband's lap.
i don't know of what i'm scared, really. giving birth alone in a foreign country in the middle of winter could be among the factors... being among fellow filipinos who cannot empathise with my situation as a married and pregnant woman. sigh. i miss my barkada back home. the cyber blogkada i have sometimes aggravates the loneliness and feelings of self-pity. the people in there are very empathetic and sympathetic... but the most i can get close to them is through my keyboard and computer screen. i would give quite a lot just to embrace any one of my fellow berks. talk about wishful thinking.
and my hunger cycle has gone haywire. i get hungry practically every 2 hours or so... but not all kinds of food appeal to me. i've been craving for thai and italian food for the past 2 weeks but the husband has ignored my parinigs and insists on the typical oily filipino fare that turns my stomach! ugh, the sight of so much fat swimming in its own oil is sickening. i would do anything for spicy tom yum soup and chicken pandan... oh dear, this is not making things any better.
enough of this whining.
i don't know of what i'm scared, really. giving birth alone in a foreign country in the middle of winter could be among the factors... being among fellow filipinos who cannot empathise with my situation as a married and pregnant woman. sigh. i miss my barkada back home. the cyber blogkada i have sometimes aggravates the loneliness and feelings of self-pity. the people in there are very empathetic and sympathetic... but the most i can get close to them is through my keyboard and computer screen. i would give quite a lot just to embrace any one of my fellow berks. talk about wishful thinking.
and my hunger cycle has gone haywire. i get hungry practically every 2 hours or so... but not all kinds of food appeal to me. i've been craving for thai and italian food for the past 2 weeks but the husband has ignored my parinigs and insists on the typical oily filipino fare that turns my stomach! ugh, the sight of so much fat swimming in its own oil is sickening. i would do anything for spicy tom yum soup and chicken pandan... oh dear, this is not making things any better.
enough of this whining.
29.3.05
sushi
i've known him since 1991. i was in college, he was in high school. we were both part of the new parish choir that would sing at 6 am. then, i didn't know he existed and he thought i was one of the unreachable and arrogant oldies of the group. i was the "in via" musical director, not my official title but my de facto job. he was one of the best singers. i noticed this 7 months after the choir's conception. we were rehearsing for caroling and a christmas presentation, and i was trying to teach the men the scale of notes leading towards a diminished harmony in (eudy's version of) "pasko na, sinta ko". only he got it on the first try. that got my attention immediately. after that, i wondered why i had never noticed him before. he was unassuming, so much so he almost appeared drab and mousy. but that was just his style. he liked to recede and let others shine. with his intelligence, he helped friends discover their strengths and shine on their own.
he's an amazing writer, and despite the 5 year gap between us, i could see his talent. he did come from a family of writers, so that should not have surprised me. i suppose i was more awed than surprised. he was so young, but he wrote from a wellspring of such depth that could only speak of a life filled with pain.
how i loved him. love is so short, forgetting, too long. (neruda) my boyfriends were wary of him but could not deny the inexplicable bond between us. even now, in spite of the vast distance between us, i know that he will be with me always. when it dawned on him that i was really going to marry S, he went ballistic. all the years before that decision, he had been the man in my life, even when i had a boyfriend. he was the only man i begged to marry me, and the only man to tell me, "i'm sorry, i don't love you enough." the only time he knew he was losing me for good was when he saw me break off my engagement to his friend so i could be with S.
he stood as a secondary sponsor at my wedding, and absolutely refused to become my "man of honour". i felt that he knew me best in the world, even more than any woman, so i insisted that he be my 'man of honour'. think of all the rumours that would fly, he implored me after one of my tantrums, hoping to sway him in his resolve. i relented. i knew that in spirit, he would be the man of the hour, taking care of the tiny details that only a best friend can. and he did. of course he did. i never doubted he would come through for me. ever.
even if he is perenially tardy. i've lost more hair than i can count and ground more teeth to cavity hell to remember if he was ever on time for significant events. i might as well scratch my way to the grave before i can come up with any clear memory of his being punctual. now that's one for the books!!! but it really doesn't matter that he is always late. because he has never abandoned me. i can never once recall an instance of him turning his back on me, of him throwing in the towel. in spite of our bitter quarrels... the painful words hurled at each other... the hurtful invectives. through the torrent of my meanness he has emerged, quick to forgive, always willing to give.
i'm his only best friend. as he will be mine. until the day we die.
where is he now? halfway around the world, encrypting programs for an american software giant. i feel his absence like a breath held too long. after good friday, black saturday, and easter sunday, i realise i will never have another friend like him. i might run after all the elusive friendships here in europe, but his will hold me up when i have no one to talk to. he is the only one who can make me burst into tears through yahoo chat and the only person who can finish my every thought and feel my every pain. we share silence like an old blanket on a rainy night or a mug of hot chocolate in the wee small hours of the morning.
i miss you, sushi. if you only knew how much. don't you ever forget that i'm here for you. you can yell my head off... but not without me clawing back, of course. :)
he's an amazing writer, and despite the 5 year gap between us, i could see his talent. he did come from a family of writers, so that should not have surprised me. i suppose i was more awed than surprised. he was so young, but he wrote from a wellspring of such depth that could only speak of a life filled with pain.
how i loved him. love is so short, forgetting, too long. (neruda) my boyfriends were wary of him but could not deny the inexplicable bond between us. even now, in spite of the vast distance between us, i know that he will be with me always. when it dawned on him that i was really going to marry S, he went ballistic. all the years before that decision, he had been the man in my life, even when i had a boyfriend. he was the only man i begged to marry me, and the only man to tell me, "i'm sorry, i don't love you enough." the only time he knew he was losing me for good was when he saw me break off my engagement to his friend so i could be with S.
he stood as a secondary sponsor at my wedding, and absolutely refused to become my "man of honour". i felt that he knew me best in the world, even more than any woman, so i insisted that he be my 'man of honour'. think of all the rumours that would fly, he implored me after one of my tantrums, hoping to sway him in his resolve. i relented. i knew that in spirit, he would be the man of the hour, taking care of the tiny details that only a best friend can. and he did. of course he did. i never doubted he would come through for me. ever.
even if he is perenially tardy. i've lost more hair than i can count and ground more teeth to cavity hell to remember if he was ever on time for significant events. i might as well scratch my way to the grave before i can come up with any clear memory of his being punctual. now that's one for the books!!! but it really doesn't matter that he is always late. because he has never abandoned me. i can never once recall an instance of him turning his back on me, of him throwing in the towel. in spite of our bitter quarrels... the painful words hurled at each other... the hurtful invectives. through the torrent of my meanness he has emerged, quick to forgive, always willing to give.
i'm his only best friend. as he will be mine. until the day we die.
where is he now? halfway around the world, encrypting programs for an american software giant. i feel his absence like a breath held too long. after good friday, black saturday, and easter sunday, i realise i will never have another friend like him. i might run after all the elusive friendships here in europe, but his will hold me up when i have no one to talk to. he is the only one who can make me burst into tears through yahoo chat and the only person who can finish my every thought and feel my every pain. we share silence like an old blanket on a rainy night or a mug of hot chocolate in the wee small hours of the morning.
i miss you, sushi. if you only knew how much. don't you ever forget that i'm here for you. you can yell my head off... but not without me clawing back, of course. :)
7.3.05
parameters
more than a year in belgium already and the clock never stops ticking. am used to the language (tho i do not know it yet --- not fluently, at least), the way people look. even the way people behave around asians. they do think that anyone asian is chinese. (that kind of ignorance i am learning to ignore)
snow is really something. it sends mikka into dizzying spirals of joy. it cuts my yea
rs in half. and that of S's, too. at night, it fills the air with magic. i keep reminding myself to savour these precious moments. pag-uwi ko sa atin, wala na 'to. sa ngayon, di ko na-mi-miss ang init, usok at pawis. not yet. i haven't gotten sick enough times to yearn for warmer climes. the time will come, i know. it's just a speck on the window sill for now. years from now, when mikka's old enough to understand the value of reminiscing, i want to tell him, "one time, you, papa, and i were walking through the streets in the evening. and we danced through snow! it fell from the sky like giant cotton balls. your eyes were slits and your laughter echoed off the wet stones of that old city. you were so happy. our hearts were jumping that night."
and then i have perennial fears. of bullies, and bloody accidents, and meanness all around. i keep thinking that if i could spare my son my life, i would. but then again, that's how i learned to be stronger. i wouldn't be who i am today without all those slips and falls. but if my son could be as wise as i am now without having to fall the way i did, i would sleep more easily in the nights and years before me. ngayon pa nga lang, uneasy na ako e. oh well. only time will tell what shall betide us all.
snow is really something. it sends mikka into dizzying spirals of joy. it cuts my yea
rs in half. and that of S's, too. at night, it fills the air with magic. i keep reminding myself to savour these precious moments. pag-uwi ko sa atin, wala na 'to. sa ngayon, di ko na-mi-miss ang init, usok at pawis. not yet. i haven't gotten sick enough times to yearn for warmer climes. the time will come, i know. it's just a speck on the window sill for now. years from now, when mikka's old enough to understand the value of reminiscing, i want to tell him, "one time, you, papa, and i were walking through the streets in the evening. and we danced through snow! it fell from the sky like giant cotton balls. your eyes were slits and your laughter echoed off the wet stones of that old city. you were so happy. our hearts were jumping that night."and then i have perennial fears. of bullies, and bloody accidents, and meanness all around. i keep thinking that if i could spare my son my life, i would. but then again, that's how i learned to be stronger. i wouldn't be who i am today without all those slips and falls. but if my son could be as wise as i am now without having to fall the way i did, i would sleep more easily in the nights and years before me. ngayon pa nga lang, uneasy na ako e. oh well. only time will tell what shall betide us all.
27.2.05
little mountain
with beatles playing in the background, my son snoring lightly on our bed and the temperature taking us below zero... that pile of laundry could sure give me some needed warmth. i just have to fold the stuff, anyway.
after a draining saturday night, i'm not sure i want to do anything. how is it that you can pour yourself into these affairs and hope to be charged no matter what, only to end up feeling helplessly low and out?
i've finished snooping into the lives of others via their blogs. something's brewing over in justice's world, so soon after her idyllic honeymoon. i feel for the woman. talk about beleaguered!
if i could climb every mountain and search every byway, i would be a much better homemaker and disciplined student. in every aspect. back in the mists of my memory is a blind masseuse who sees into people's souls with her deft fingers. i can still remember her neatly tied hair and soft voice telling me about how her baby was killed while she was cooking. she did not see her older child push the infant to its death. (duh, bulag nga diba? ay anovayan svelte...) and how her womanising husband left her when he found out, and not without blaming her first for their child's death. in her last massages was a deep and scalding sadness that lingered on my limbs long after the oils had settled into my skin.
it's one of those unmoving sundays. if i stepped out into this sub-zero weather, the mind will freeze over. how the sun doth mock us in these times. if i moved forward into the next days, will something new happen in this life? or will it be this same dread with the tiny claws that cling to the recesses of my molars?
but if i can just scale this mountain of laundry, maybe, just maybe, things will look up.
after a draining saturday night, i'm not sure i want to do anything. how is it that you can pour yourself into these affairs and hope to be charged no matter what, only to end up feeling helplessly low and out?
i've finished snooping into the lives of others via their blogs. something's brewing over in justice's world, so soon after her idyllic honeymoon. i feel for the woman. talk about beleaguered!
if i could climb every mountain and search every byway, i would be a much better homemaker and disciplined student. in every aspect. back in the mists of my memory is a blind masseuse who sees into people's souls with her deft fingers. i can still remember her neatly tied hair and soft voice telling me about how her baby was killed while she was cooking. she did not see her older child push the infant to its death. (duh, bulag nga diba? ay anovayan svelte...) and how her womanising husband left her when he found out, and not without blaming her first for their child's death. in her last massages was a deep and scalding sadness that lingered on my limbs long after the oils had settled into my skin.
it's one of those unmoving sundays. if i stepped out into this sub-zero weather, the mind will freeze over. how the sun doth mock us in these times. if i moved forward into the next days, will something new happen in this life? or will it be this same dread with the tiny claws that cling to the recesses of my molars?
but if i can just scale this mountain of laundry, maybe, just maybe, things will look up.
24.2.05
mix-up
this is strange. i do not characteristically blog what i'm about to blog in this space; on the other hand, i just put up a rather.... "night-y" entry in jumba day. so things are pretty much screwed up today.
but i've ignored these pages for more than 2 weeks. actually, not. i put in an entry 3 days ago but it stayed for all of 2 hours before i made it private and published it in another (more private and personal) space. still internet, of course, but with very high restrictions on access.
i feel winter more acutely now. it wasn't this cold last month, and compared to last year, this month's (feb) cold beats last year's cold. or maybe i didn't notice because i was just burrowing in the flat last year, being newly-arrived and all that. not used to the latitudes, looking ugly, skin drying up, hair shedding like crazy... the entire gamut.
anyhow, i just came from a book sale and i had fun. not total mental fun because i avoided the literature section completely. instead, i concentrated on the kiddie section and the music/film section. i got some titles of calvin & hobbes (in memory of ronald, may he rest in peace), i myself mine by george harrison (interested mainly in his notes about song creation and chord progression), some musicology genre books (jazz, blues, and celtic), and art "kunst" books that seemed frightfully cheap for a museum-looking book. but i went crazy over the activity books for mikka, the multi-media approach incorporated in them (with hand puppets and stickers and crayons and little pouches and pop ups), plus cheap toys for his little fingers and ever expanding mind. i'm sure he'll love the train set we got him (wooden pieces for the track plus wooden trains too) and the bob the builder kit. totally hawt, man! can't wait til april to give the stuff to mikka. he'll be thrilled!
but what am i babbling about? that was pure recreation. i stayed home from dutch class for the third time this week. i have 6 hours of work to catch up on next week!!!
went to hanau last weekend. i didn't get to see much of the outdoors saturday, when the party of cheH's S took place, hoping to do it on sunday morning before we caught the train back to belgium. but as luck would have it, i twisted my ankle on the giant slide!!! so with my foot aching like hell the following morning, i could only watch mournfully as husband and son donned their winter coats and went traipsing in the snow with U, cheH's husband. it was a riot. i met ruth, anP, cheH, jing, thess, elaine, and justice. we spent more time sitting around cheH's dining room table, yakking off our heads, than on our feet. we were feeling each other out, measuring, weighing... and boy, in our unguarded moments, pigging out on the yummy spread before us!!! maybe that would be the star of the show, or the starS, i might say. check this out: thai salad (piping hot and spicy, the way it should be), barbecue with sate sauce, paksiw na isda with aubergines (ano raw? talong lang yon), embotido, lumpia (both nights!!), lots and lots of wine (red and white) and german pale pilsen beer (only 4.5%, a far cry from our now-normal beer of 8.5%). the scene stealer? thess' killer dessert!!! fit for fancy dining and the works.
this will be cut short. the memory of all those delectable delights is making my tummy churn. signing off to raid the cupboards... end.
but i've ignored these pages for more than 2 weeks. actually, not. i put in an entry 3 days ago but it stayed for all of 2 hours before i made it private and published it in another (more private and personal) space. still internet, of course, but with very high restrictions on access.
i feel winter more acutely now. it wasn't this cold last month, and compared to last year, this month's (feb) cold beats last year's cold. or maybe i didn't notice because i was just burrowing in the flat last year, being newly-arrived and all that. not used to the latitudes, looking ugly, skin drying up, hair shedding like crazy... the entire gamut.
anyhow, i just came from a book sale and i had fun. not total mental fun because i avoided the literature section completely. instead, i concentrated on the kiddie section and the music/film section. i got some titles of calvin & hobbes (in memory of ronald, may he rest in peace), i myself mine by george harrison (interested mainly in his notes about song creation and chord progression), some musicology genre books (jazz, blues, and celtic), and art "kunst" books that seemed frightfully cheap for a museum-looking book. but i went crazy over the activity books for mikka, the multi-media approach incorporated in them (with hand puppets and stickers and crayons and little pouches and pop ups), plus cheap toys for his little fingers and ever expanding mind. i'm sure he'll love the train set we got him (wooden pieces for the track plus wooden trains too) and the bob the builder kit. totally hawt, man! can't wait til april to give the stuff to mikka. he'll be thrilled!
but what am i babbling about? that was pure recreation. i stayed home from dutch class for the third time this week. i have 6 hours of work to catch up on next week!!!
went to hanau last weekend. i didn't get to see much of the outdoors saturday, when the party of cheH's S took place, hoping to do it on sunday morning before we caught the train back to belgium. but as luck would have it, i twisted my ankle on the giant slide!!! so with my foot aching like hell the following morning, i could only watch mournfully as husband and son donned their winter coats and went traipsing in the snow with U, cheH's husband. it was a riot. i met ruth, anP, cheH, jing, thess, elaine, and justice. we spent more time sitting around cheH's dining room table, yakking off our heads, than on our feet. we were feeling each other out, measuring, weighing... and boy, in our unguarded moments, pigging out on the yummy spread before us!!! maybe that would be the star of the show, or the starS, i might say. check this out: thai salad (piping hot and spicy, the way it should be), barbecue with sate sauce, paksiw na isda with aubergines (ano raw? talong lang yon), embotido, lumpia (both nights!!), lots and lots of wine (red and white) and german pale pilsen beer (only 4.5%, a far cry from our now-normal beer of 8.5%). the scene stealer? thess' killer dessert!!! fit for fancy dining and the works.
this will be cut short. the memory of all those delectable delights is making my tummy churn. signing off to raid the cupboards... end.
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