MEComposing

First... let me say some things to the dead people in my life... according to who finished his life's purpose first...

Shella, died before turning 1 None of your siblings are visiting your grave this year, and yes, sometimes they tend to forget you sometimes. You can't really blame them... none of them really knew you. But I know you're watching over your twin... and I know she longs for you. And I still think of the way you looked at me that day I left you at the hospital... wondering if you were silently asking me to stay... or silently saying goodbye. I'd always, always love you...

Kuya Jerry, died because he intervened when his friend was being sliced up in a fight Ate Gang misses you, a lot. She's always saying that had you been alive, your siblings would be living better lives... and you'd be able to exact some control from them. Ate Gang gets tired sometimes by picking up after your siblings' bad decisions... but she loves your nieces and nephews very much. By the way, Sarah is due to have another baby soon... and am sure you already know that. I hope you'd just watch them for us, especially when Ate Gang cannot...

Papay, who died from kidney problems and prostate cancer We still talk of how you visited Ate Veron after your death... and of how Tin and Rez were throwing stones at your coffin, unaware in their young age of all the implications of that wooden box the rest of the family watched over during the days of your wake. We still laugh nervously at how, left alone in our homes, our fridge door kept opening, and we kept smelling of candles. You should see Bitoy, how he's the spitting image of Tito Abe. And please watch over Tito Abe, more than root for his health, please help him realize instead that he's led a selfish, purposeless life.

Mamay, who suffered a stroke while we were sleeping I don't know what to say... it's you I miss the most. In my own way, and because I only had good memories of you, I still feel closer to you than Mom. I still miss your cooking... I still devour every bit of story of my childhood because you were there. I'm still proud that we fell off that sea wall because everybody knew they found me wailing on top of you... that you alone hit the rocks... and I think i really would forever feel suffused by your warmth and love. I find it hard telling stories of you to Rez and Tin (who is the spitting image of you by the way) because words will never make them see what you represented for me... or how rich my childhood has been because I knew you. I just really hope you'd be watching over me when I walk down the aisle someday... I think i'd really want your presence there... and I silently wish that Mom would live with me someday just before and just after I give birth... to take care of me and my baby... like you did for all the grandchildren you had...

Lolo Tino, who didn't wake anymore from being run over... by a tricycle at that... one Friday morning he was going to Quiapo to attend Mass Lolo... please watch over Tito Jose. If he joins you soon, I hope the process won't give him much pain. He's been through enough. On a happier note, I'm sure you're happy with the fact that all your children are still loving and supporting each other... We miss how you're always in the Philippines during Christmas and Fiesta... We miss how you always dance with the majorettes... We miss how you lived life to the fullest... but you're with your Maker now, and am sure you're happiest there...

Tito Gerundio, died from too much drinking Don't worry Tito, Ate Gang is making a good job of taking care of your brood... just watch over Sarah who lives far away, ok? I cannot help but wish, I knew you more. Just last weekend we had liswik, and I missed your cooking.

Ate Ene, died from bone cancer You have been such an inspiration... and a standard of excellence. And because of you, I got a glimpse of a world filled with cancer... a world that was also filled with hope, love, gratitude and celebration. Your cathedral windows would always be the best, and i thank you for passing on the legacy of making it. Your bestfriend, Ate Violy, remains to be such a good and thoughtful person. You must miss her sometimes. And yes, I always remember you when I see pineapples and jackfruit...

Mang Ver, who died from a stroke Hopefully, your family is faring well... we didn't know you owned a vintage car... Anyway, I still think of you most times during merienda time... especially when I see corn being sold. It was a privilege sharing with you all those snacks...

I honestly do not believe that I need to pray for their souls, for I trust that they are more at peace now... I worry more for those they left behind...

Weirdly enough, I didn't know i'd still cry over my maternal grandmother... and I believe she'd have been real proud of who I turned out to be...
*~*

On a happier note, aside from the trip to the cemetery that's part and parcel of Halloween in Lipa... am also giddy with happiness because we're going to go to Laiya, San Juan tomorrow. It's just the immediate family going for a quick swim but it's nice to be going with them... it's going to be Pyro's first trip to the beach (and no, we don't intend for him to play in the water, we just want him to be outdoors for awhile)... and it's going to be the first trip we're taking in my Dad's car.

And of course, i bloody miss the beach. I feel it's pointless to live in the Philippines without regular trips to the beach!

I typed a 2-page letter using 8.5" x 13" paper and 10.5 Century Gothic font style... to my brother. Because we had a fight. Because he was being a jerk. Because he was picking on my sister (his sister too, yes.. ahehe). Because he was overreacting to Pyro's illness. How did I deduce that he was overreacting? Well, after repatedly telling him the child had tigdas over the phone and thru sms, he came home upset that we didn't call him from the pedia's office (not Pyro's since-birth pedia), an instruction I wasn't aware of, and started verbally abusing my sister... and then climbed the stairs with a, "Mamamatay na lang ang anak ko, hindi ko pa alam" (rough translation: My child is going to die and I don't even know it... basically implying that we're taking away his right as father to know what's happening to his child... oh, actually, he said that too)

Having been someone who doesn't back down when someone is being unreasonable, and in this case, having texted him twice already after getting back from the pedia, and honestly feeling he's overreacting because the child who's sick is actually already playing and babbling "Wow" over and over (and wasn't exactly the first baby to ever get sick... and having our Mother there who saw all of us suffer from the same viral disease). I told him he WAS overreacting.

I think there were at least 3 times he almost really hit me. Really close calls as he was looming in front of me from where am sitting... even having the audacity to sort of tell me that one more word from me and he'd really hit me... only stopped by my sister (who was carrying Pyro)and my Mom... all of which, of course, made me madder...

Family quarrels would often seem petty to the outside world. The dynamics governing each relationship however is usually so complicated and layered and sometimes so full of hidden agendas.

I know that aside from believing he's disrespectful and inconsiderate and ungrateful to my sister and cousin, who have been generally in-charge of taking care of Pyro... I also find it distasteful that he is displacing his weaknesses and fears to his son.

And I can only guess what issues he has with me... although i was really surprised why he'd suddenly keep saying that all I want is money... as in, where did that come from? Heck, he even threw the entire contents of his wallet at me. Sadly, it wasn't enough to buy myself a new cellphone. And even sadder, my Mom got the money back. Anyway, he's warped, and I worry for my nephew.

But the thing that hurt me the most and has really been exhausting me is the fact that whenever I disapprove of what my brother does (and it's kinda hard to turn a blind eye to them when we're living in the same house, and we're the ones being inconvenienced), I just hate my Mother all the more. Last night, I lashed out at my Mom again... telling her that she was the one who raised such an ungrateful, irresponsible jerk! (I wanted to call him a sonofab!tch... but my Mom, with all her equally-warped notions of raising a son, isn't a b!tch)

Of course, Mom reminded me that she raised all of us. And then i reminded her that I have made infinitely better choices than the son she spoiled. I was even gearing to remind her too that I have yet to send her to the hospital... something my wonderful brother did without remorse... and without cbaracter-improvement. But my brother came back down and we fought some more.

Thus, the long letter to him. A letter not apologizing for anything, but explaining what really happened, and demanding from him some appreciation and gratefulness, not for me, but for my sister and cousin who were more hands-on with Pyro. A letter that also warned him that I will not tolerate any further disrespect and abuse of the two. A letter that also told him that eventhough Pyro is kin, he SHOULD be grateful (how does one translate "tumanaw ng utang na loob" anyway? my jerk of a brother explicitly even stated that he need not do any such thing by virtue of Pyro being our nephew).

My chest still feels heavy... burdened. After having written the letter, and this, and after crying my brains out till past 2... I am not yet at peace with what happened. And i think it's really because i'm tired of being angry with my parents... and yet, the child or human in me still cannot understand why they still continue enabling their son to be the jerk he is...

And at the back part of my mind, I worry... that I might react to all this by being too hard on my future son/s.

*~*

I also know I should watch it, lest my brother really lose control and hit me. And of course, at some remote recess of my brain, there is fear that he might deform my face or something. But seeing that I also know I should watch it, because sometimes hate for him feels just so raw, I know i could drive a knife into him in the heat of A moment (this last sentence suddenly reminds me of a parents-reading-my-diary episode, where they tried making me feel guilty for wishing them dead... back when I found them hateful as a teen... and people might even get shocked at the intensity of the hate... but what the heck).

Still, my greater fear and worry is... IF my brother and I have a go at each other... what will my parents do?

*~*

Was browsing a medical book last night, reading on Roseola and taking comfort in the fact that it isn't Measles... and wondering if I had German measles already, and thinking I should get it now lest I get it when am pregnant someday... yada, yada, yada... yes, generally getting paranoid...

Then my sister comments... that when she's depressed and feeling bad, she just goes through that book of medical problems and gets cured... for she cannot help but feel lucky and blessed that she didn't have any of those diseases... and no one in the family is really sick...

the nurturing challenge
QUESTION: how many people does it require to take care of a sick child?
ANSWER: if you're Pyro, it will require the whole household!

I already knew Pyro was sick last Friday. He got better Saturday morning, and then got real bad Saturday afternoon. Which made us oh-so-concerned that I brought him to a pediatrician with my sister.

I kept having to ask my sister what vitamins Pyro were taking, her milk, etc. We forgot to bring his baby book for his medical history. Anyway, he was prescribed paracetamol and antibiotics for another throat infection (his 3rd). Of course, our baby was crying like hell at the clinic, and we had to suffer his tears just to make him take his medicine. After all, he can't get better without them.

But it was a real struggle... different people had different tasks... one would have to carry him, one would have to distract him, one would have to try feeding him crackers (my sis kept telling me that i can just feed him the crackers without treating them like a jet crashing into my nephew's mouth... and definitely without the wardance i do as I make the engine noises... but Pyro refuses to open his mouth without the engine sounds and the dancing, i swear!), one would have to wipe his nose, tears and other bodily fluids, one would have to remain loving and assuring as Pyro vomits on her, etc. My sister and cousin are both Nursing students but, of course, they couldn't act professionally cold with the tyke.

Of course, he's really lucky to have so many watch over him. He's very lucky that my sister would patiently lull him and comfort him and carry him and dance with him for hours because he refuses to cling like a monkey to anyone else. He's very lucky that i love him so much I allowed him to use my right arm as a hotdog-pillow he can embrace while sleeping... resulting in this dead feeling for my arm, and a trapped feeling for my psyche (i soo hate restrictions). He's very lucky that so many are concerned, and even my Dad in the province kept checking up on him.

I just wish his Dad won't make things harder by not even trying smarter to make him take his medicine. I mean, seriously, to heck with the baby's tears, shouldn't he be more concerned that Pyro is missing dosages that might only aggravate the infection?

Still, I hope he'd get well soon. We miss the laughing baby we love so much.

the gastronomic challenge
A Filipino loves to eat. In fact, we've made it almost impossible to go hungry at any time of day here (unless you're really dirt-poor ok?). Even in major roads, vendors will be plying their wares of chips and water for those stuck in traffic.

Part of the Filipino hospitality is having your guests eat. We love to go the distance for people's gastronomic happiness... and feel we've only succeeded in really being good hosts after hearing that burp, that sigh of contentment, and that comment that he's full and the food was great.

But pray tell, how do you feed an Israeli Jew, who says he isn't vegetarian per se, just restricted by his religion on what things he could eat?. What's more, he's the type of Jew who not only doesn't eat anything that came from animals (even fish/seafood), he also foregoes certain types of vegetables...

Thank goodness, he eats bananas and drinks pineapple juice and SMB :D

But... wait, add a Buddhist in the equation please, yes, someone who cannot eat beef... oh and yeah, someone who would only have Coke for lunch and a can of juice for merienda. Upon further inquiry, this Malaysian also finds Pinoy food SWEET... and considers it a great departure from his usual fare of spicy stuff.

Tsk,tsk.

And yes, there's another one in the band... JRA and I racked our brains out for vegetarian places that are porkless, because we also have a Muslim guest. And of course, we'd only find out right before lunch that it's still Ramadan and therefore, he won't be having even one drop of water until 6 pm...

Right.

At least, it was ok for us Pinoys to eat wherever we wanted, and ended up lunching at Pancake House while our foreigner friends hung outside.

Dinner was at Kashmir, where JRA and his colleagues felt adventurous enough to order this Indian Drink (LASI: a yogurt, sweet/salty drink) their Malaysian GM was drinking. The consensus? It tasted like rotten milk, or infant vomit, whichever was worse.

Me, I ate 2 pieces of this roasted-chicken that's spicy but actually tastes great with calamansi. And some rice, and some pita/crust-like garlic bread. And before even arriving back home, the skin on my tummy showed allergic reactions... and yes, am still itchy...

the photography challenge
Sadly, Tagaytay ain't pretty anymore. We went to People's Park in the sky, and it was just not pretty anymore. Houses dotting the view ain't pretty. The heat of the sun and the humid clime and the smell of piss and the trash everywhere... it's just not pretty anymore.

Missed climbing all over again. The pic here is the best I've taken so far from the ill-advised trip.







the future motherhood challenge
While eating at Kashmir, a big group of Indians went in with us. JRA was teasing me about the possibility of them smelling bad (no offense meant to any Indians, Pakistanis, etc who reads this blog), and how the incense-sort smoke inside the resto was for that purpose... because we both get migraines really from strong body odor. Anyway... the group was composed of some 5 or so couples with their kids and were seated next to our table.

I already noticed that a Mom was taking her time in making the milk for her crying baby. I already noticed that because she wasn't hurried by her baby's cries, she wasn't spilling any milk either. That made me smile.

Then later on during the meal, a toddler started crying. An older child started leading him back to their table. The child's mother was just silently waiting for them. To my shock tho (it was too strong for the word "surprise"), none of the other adults were paying attention to that crying child! The child quieted down soon enough without the mother having to carry him.

I pointed this observation to JRA, and he said he thinks that could be the reason why the Indians are the best call center agents, because they know how to not overly react to what's happening (irate callers blandishing curses) and just do their necessary tasks (provide technical support to consumers who, most often than not,just didn't read the f*ckin' instructions).

I was amazed... and challenged!!! In a typical Filipino setting in malls and Churches or other public places, a crying child would have elicited every parent within hearing zone to look up, and semi-rush or think of running to the site, wondering if they can do anything. In a party of relatives, the child would have been picked up the nearest adult/elder and hush-shushed even before the child reaches his own parent. He'd have been comforted and promised the world and distracted and given a toy/bottle.

But all that isn't always necessary. And I hope i'd have the grace to not be the typical Pinay mother someday. I'd want my kids to not cry THAT loud, and to know that they can STOP crying (unless really, really hurt), and not throw tantrums and basically not grow up equating excited comforting with true loving.

I'd want to be warm, but I don't want to create wrong illusions of caring.

> Cool water (as opposed to cold) down my throat when I’m sweaty from a walk, or climb, or the day is just too humid.
> Softdrinks or halo-halo during or immediately after a climb, the sugar rush does wonders to my exhausted body.
> Finally being able to sit down after walking around a mall or park or up a mountain
> Cakes… as in Becky’s Kitchen cakes (choco mousse or potato almond krunch) and Choco Heaven cake from Pancake House… or Red Ribbon and Figaro’s Choco Caramel Cake… or Red Ribbon’s Rocky Road cake… or Goldilocks’ Capuccino Mousse
> White Chocolate… sadly they don’t sell/make my real fave DOVE… and Cadbury Dream Eggs are only sold in Singapore (as far as I know) while White Maltesers are sold in HK
> Ice cream… as in Cappuccino or Coffee Crumble or that old Café Rico… or Mocca and Vanilla… or Banana Splits
> Really fresh tuna sashimi and fresher oysters seasoned with soy sauce and calamansi
> Dulcinea’s carbonara
> Hizon’s Prawns in Butter & Garlic Sauce
> Ma Mon Luk’s siopao (asado) and Mami (beef)
> Max’s Sinigang na Tyan ng Bangus
> Sinampalukang Manok at Sogo (though I don’t get to enjoy it anymore)
> Shrimps and crab in sweet chilli sauce at Seaside
> My nephew’s smell after taking a bath (I’m telling you guys, J&J’s Bedtime Bath and Lotion are the best!)
> A baby’s kiss on my cheeks
> Putting on lotion after a bath (J&J Bedtime Lotion, Alyssa Ashley in White Musk)
> Using vanilla or J&J Bedtime bath shower gels
> A long and luxurious hot bath
> The feel of the warm ocean on my toes
> New panties
> New sheets
> Staying/Keeping warm in bed on cold or rainy mornings
> Rain on my face
> A really good massage (please refer to Gloria)
> A cold shower on a hot day
> Meme (caresses) on my back especially my butt.
> The feel of ice on my nipples
> The feel of a hot body on my palm (have you guys noticed how that area just past your tummy and just above your groin gets really HOT sometimes when you’re really, really aroused?)
> A tongue down my spine
> Trailing my nips along the length of a man’s back

*~*

dang am horny...

I accidentally deleted my template... grrr... and I just spent all morning looking for a new template vefore realizing i had a copy of its draft somewhere...

need to friggin' update the links and trouble-shoot again how i can make headings for links a diff color and size tho...

If there was ever a time or if there ever were moments in my life that i could have possibly questioned the existence of a God, or a Higher Power... or actually doubted that He does exist... or even believed that there just simply isn't a greater Life Force operating in the world...

If there was ever a time I didnt believe in love and goodness...

Then, i'm glad to know that I am finally enlightened. I look at Pyro and his growth in beauty, and I just tell myself... "How can there not be a God?"

*~*

Please pray for a recently-married friend of mine... who found weeks after that her husband has liver cancer.

*~*

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

- e. e. cummings

Really... hasn't anyone told the singers of today that doing revivals do not bode well for their career... and suggests a certain lack of talent?

execpt for THE COMPANY, of course.

And can anyone please tell that Shereen (?) girl that her voice is matining which makes a lot of songs not meant to be sung by her?

*~*

I've always known i'd have a problem with it... and because of an article I read in some old Metro mag, I can't help but dwell on it again.

I grew up in an apartment-style house, but we owned that apartment and the one beside it. In fact, we could have owned the whole compound had my Mom had the tenacity and viciousness to be inconsiderate of the other families who were renting the other apartments.

I studied in private Catholic schools growing up. Sure, I made the choice to study in PNU in college to help ease my Mom's tuition woes (not that I still don't feel shortchanged somehow that both my siblings got to study in private schools requiring exorbitant fees for working computers, air-conditioned classrooms and a generally more conducive for learning environment... to think I was the BRIGHT one) but I also never had to worry where to get money for tuition or books. Not that my Mom didn't make me bleed first before handing over the money... or that I never felt resentful that she has to scold me about money time and again when I was really doing well in school (and yes, i know i skipped a lot of classes in college for hanging out at Paco Park or in malls... but i still graduated cum laude... and surely my parents can be content with that?)...

We also didn't grow up eating at Jollibee, or owning the latest Barbie dolls and toys... but we always had food on the table... and we always had milk... and we never had to go to school without an allowance.

Sure, we had to suffer old bags and extended uniforms but we always got Christmas gifts, and we always had parties thrown for our birthdays.

In short, I never felt poor until now (you know, when am finally earning and my salary cannot keep up with my expenses). I never felt insecure. I never really had to suffer the shame of being called by the teacher come exams time, not allowed to take the exams because I haven't yet paid my tuition fees. I never had to miss a field trip, or a school dance. I always had books to read. We've always had a TV and a telephone. We never had to be kicked out of the house. Heck, we never had to deal with parents in prison or anything like that.

In shorter still, I had a nice life.

And even when I was younger, i've always valued the sacrifice of what took my parents to where they are now... or where they were then... a position of being able to not only provide for us, but also help out their siblings and their siblings' families.

Which is why, no matter how indifferent I felt they were to me and my needs, or angry I was with them and the world... I always took my education seriously. I wanted to be someone who wouldn't waste their sacrifice. I also wanted to be someone who can afford things when I grow up, because I don't want my kids going thru hell because they had the misfortune to have irresponsible parents.

The thing is, because I had a nice life, the challenge became a twisted fear of not being able to find a partner who basically has the same goal. My friends have always teased me about having security issues, and I know that i've always told a prospective husband that I never want to have to worry where i'd get money to buy food for the table... or for the children's education...

And basically, it's just me wanting to continue having a nice life...

And it's kinda complicated by the silent wish to be a full-time mother as well. For that is indeed putting pressure on my future mate to be the sole provider... in this hard and funny-desperate times.

I am aware that there are a lot of sacrifices and compromises in store for me once I get married, financially. And I think that is mostly why I am still single and unmarried at age 27. I just really hope and pray that i'd have the grace to find a lot of things with my future husband/family NICE...

And that my kids will feel as secure and stable as I felt...

*~*

Did you know that the going rate for pre-school education for kids 3 years old and up is some Php20k already?

And what's even twistedly funny is, they mostly have play time and video-watching time during class hours? And that they teach twisting paper and folding table napkins in pre-school? Something about dexterity to prepare the kids to write.

And that pre-school is BIG on EQ and EQ-related activities?

And the training modules are usually patented, imitated, copied, simulated, etc from schools all over the US and Europe?

And ok, yes, it's really kinda cute having your kid out of the house for a while, and then arrive jumping with pride at the stars stamped on his arms, implying either good behavior, or excellent workmanship (either in cutting paper, coloring books or following a dance step)...

Still, isn't pre-school just a tad overrated and expensive?

And i question the premise of learning to fold table napkins to prepare the child for greater things... because from what I heard, kids now are supposedly smarter, so surely, if they can operate computer consoles and remote controls, they can also learn to write? And goodness, we all learned to write w/o having to crumple and shred paper! It's just plain stupid... but of course, I can't really NOT send my kids to pre-school now, since most regular schools require at least 3 years preparation.

And I also cannot help observing that... schools don't seem at all to be doing a good job in making or keeping these kids happy. I'm reading more and more reports that children nowadays are usually already depressed when they reach the age of 10... and are usually also BORED starting age four, onwards...

Heck... am even reading more and more suicides by younger kids...

Basketball camp is ok to help your kids release some of their angst... but sometimes, I think fistfights on streets with boys their age will do them more good in the long-term.

*~*

yes, i'm kinda angtsy right now...