Find delight in the beauty and happiness of children

Three years ago, June 30^th was a Sunday; my husband went to a racetrack for his RC car, that is, we were eagerly waiting for the live feed of the FIFA World Cup Finals between Brazil and Germany, and then suddenly, I had given birth to a little baby boy. And my life had changed since then.

Happy Birthday, my baby!



This is the reason why mothers are more devoted to their children than fathers: it is that they suffer more in giving them birth and are more certain that they are their own. - Aristotle

Oh my hands are burning!

Have you ever had that feeling like you were about to combust in excitement? I had never wanted a book so much as this one. I'm all psyched up, as the release date is getting nearer.

Please forgive me if I will suddenly turn into a recluse come July 16th and a few days following that. Pardon me if I'll have my head buried so deeply on the book, or I haven't posted any entries on this site during that period. And for those who plan on borrowing my copy, sorry I don't think I'll part with it in the next six months or until the paperback edition comes out; I am just that selfish and self-absorbed when it comes to Harry Potter.

Nothing beats the Filipino resiliency

I was watching TFC (nothing compares to the Filipino sense of humor) last weekend and something struck a chord in me: with all the troubles an ordinary Filipino meets throughout his daily grind, he still finds the time to have a MagicMic session with his family and friends at the end of the day.

Imagine living in a country where what you earn in a day isn’t even enough to cover for your family’s daily expenses, where you always get stuck in a traffic jam going to and from work for almost 2 hours, where roads are not well maintained and are flooded even with just a light drizzle, where prices of oil increases almost everyday, where transportation prices can hike up almost 30%, where you would fear meeting a cop as much as meeting a burglar, where politicians don’t keep their promises, pocket the country’s funds, cheat on elections, receive bribery from every crook, and even have the gall to kiss a bishop’s ring. I grew-up in that country and loves that country still, even with all the bad memories and shameful stories it brings.

What happened to the Filipino people that Ninoy Aquino once thought that was “worth dying for”? (Forget about Kris, I’m pretty sure that all the things she had done had kept her father rolling on his grave like a spinning top.) Where’s the Filipino that Rizal and Bonifacio bravely fought and died for?

They are still there waiting for another “messiah” to release them from the bondage of poverty and oppression. More than a hundred years had passed and yet the little brown man is still downtrodden. Three hundred years of Spanish occupation, 50 years of American colonization, 20 years under the Martial Law, and another 20 years of struggling in the claws of a group of jokers, when can the Filipino find its well deserved freedom – freedom from poverty, freedom from tyranny?

I do hope that that will be answered in my lifetime. And while we wait, watch us find the humor in our troubles by watching our sitcoms, listening to our phones’ ringtones and re-mix cd’s of phone conversations. Or better yet, join us in another round of videoke sessions.

A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both. – Dwight D. Eisenhower

Words that rang true and glowed like burning coal

I like reading poems, but I love poems that crack me up. I’m going to introduce you to one poet who’s a very good friend of mine. He’s Filipino, obviously, and his writings could make you roll on the floor laughing. We call him Kabayan, and I couldn’t find any other suitable name that fits him to a T.

Here’s a sampling, titled Manok.

Ang Manok (baw!)

malinamnam kainin masarap na manok
type ng marami lalo na si Niknok
prito ma't pasingaw kahit lasang usok
t'yak ang kasiyahan 'wag lang amoy bulok

dibdib na malaman ang ibig ng iba
ang iba nama'y sebo ng kuyom na paa
ang bitukang isaw 'pagpapalit mo ba?
leeg, atay, hita, p'wet idagdag pa

sa tsiken o' pok kung papipiliin
iwasang mag-'yah-yah' sabihin mo'y tsiken
paka-asahan mo't mag-eenjoy ka rin
lalo't merong sili at toyong kay itim

nais ding isali sa usapang manok
ang nais ng iba'y maitim ang buhok
ke dibdib o puwet kahit amoy bulok
basta nga't matikas at ayos ang lilok

ayyy! 'nong manok yan nasasambit mo ba
huwag pakalayo't sasabungin lang pala
sa maganda ang tindig dito ka pumusta
lalo na't ang palong'y me buhok na hibla

(baw uli)

For more poems, come and visit his place in the tangled world of the world wide web.

We all write poems; it is simply that poets are the ones who write in words. – John Fowles

The efficiency of lying and deceiving depends entirely on the clear notion of truth the deceiver wishes to hide

I have finally seen the latest Brad Pitt movie, Mr. & Mrs. Smith. It’s a sexy, action-adventure film that has hit its goal, which is to entertain. I entered the movie house and left my brain at the door, knowing full well what I should expect from this movie.

It started off with a scene of both characters, John (Pitt) and Jane (Angelina Jolie), talking to a marriage counselor, very reminiscent of that other movie I like, The Story of Us. You could see right away the reason their marriage was failing, which explained the hurt and animosity they expressed through out the film. People who have a notion of romanticized marriages may not like what they would see from this film, but married couples could laugh out loud and see themselves being portrayed by these hot Hollywood stars.

The action sequences were good that made my husband grinning and romance was just about right that kept me gushing with glee. Punch lines were delivered perfectly and the soundtrack made it more fun to watch; I especially like the Air Supply hit Making Love Out Of Nothing At All (the scene where it was placed was so damn funny). Watching John and Jane bumping cars reminded me of another old movie, The War of the Roses.

It was a film not made to tug our hearts and keep out minds whirling; it was there for us to enjoy, and I came out smiling, loving it, and wishing there's a sequel.

Don’t bother to be poetical, poetry is the evidence of life

I am no poet, yet I was able to string these words. It’s titled Feel Me.

I

I look at you and see
The fire of emotions raging inside
All the hurt and agony
Then I, too, feel the pain.

II

I have tried and failed
Keeping all the things hidden
I see you study my face
Searching for something which was my shame.

III

This is your own battle to conquer
I know there’s nothing more
For me to say
To make them all go away.

IV

You are at a lost for words
Not knowing how to assure
But this I say to you
Anything, just tell me anything.

I hope you could understand it, as it was an emotional moment. For a tagalize version see here.

There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing. – John Cage

Nationalism is an infantile disease

To say that the governance of my beloved country, Philippines, had gone to dogs would be antediluvian. With what is going on back home, I feel like hiding myself under the bed. It was once said that the proper means of increasing the love we bear our native country is to reside some time in a foreign one; I am residing in a foreign land and my love for my country hasn’t increased a bit.

Patriotism was instilled in me when I was young by my Mom. I remember that one day when we have to watch the Aquino assassination video over and over again. We were over at one of my Mom’s friend’s house and there are people discussing what’s going on in political arena. Being a curious young girl that I am, because I love mysteries and current events really pique my interest, so I listened, and I have learned a lot. I’ve learned that our country is in trouble and that there’s a world beyond our borders that is far greater than ours.

I’ve become an idealist. I’ve dreamt that our country will rise above all its problems with the help of its people, who are no longer bounded by the martial law. I thought that with all the freedom, we could all contribute and work well for the betterment of our country. I was wrong, deeply mistaken. I never thought what extreme freedom could do to our countrymen.

Now, realism had finally hit me on the head. Our country’s problem runs far deeper than just economics, politics, or stability; it is within the people, both the governed and the governing bodies. Let me stole something from the American Declaration of Independence: “Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.”

If you’d ask me, what I think about that Gloriagate? I’d say: “They could all go to hell, I don’t care. I’m just happy that I have a new ringtone. Hello. Hello. Hello, Garci.”

It is lamentable, that to be a good patriot one must become the enemy of the rest of mankind. – Voltaire

Impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure

Less than a month! I’ve got less than 30 days left and I should be able to finish reviewing the first five Harry Potter books. I am one of those fans waiting, panting, eager to know what is going to happen next in the adventure of the boy-who-lived.

I must admit, I am curious as who is going to give Harry his second kiss. Who will die? I hope it’s Hagrid. Die, Hagrid, die. I hope my questions are finally answered, and that I wonder what would Hermione do that warrants the comment “You go, girl!’. Will she make the first move? Well, because Harry is just too daft when it comes to girls. I guess I just admitted that I’m a Harry/Hermione shipper. Yes, pumpkin goodness!

Waiting is the great vocation of the dispossessed. – Mary Gordon

The fruit doesn’t fall too far from the tree

People we meet always mention that my husband and my son look very much alike. Little did they know that the likeness didn’t stop there; they, too, have the same attitudes. They have the same bullheadedness, humor, and a penchant for teasing me.

Herman is too proud of his son and I am proud of having him as the father of our little boy.

Happy Father’s Day to the special men in my life.


My Dad, wherever you are.


My brother, Reggie.


For all the fathers, thank you for your guiding hand and ever watchful, loving eyes.

Until you have a son of your own... you will never know the joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son. – Kent Nerburn

Remember when it rained in your heart

You finally said the words that made my world came crashing down. You simply had to draw the line. How many times have I dangled that rope right before your very eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to remember; yet you refused, time and again, to grasp it or even give it a single glance.

You left me all alone to feel the pain. I’ve tried desperately not to succumb further into the quagmire of emotions, yet I had to wallow in hopelessness and self-pity. I was powerless to fight the darkness that was slowly eating my very core and had to surrender to the animosity of desolation.

I know in my heart that you will haunt me forever, but I have to wake up and accept the truth that there is no one else here but me.

A broken heart is what makes life so wonderful five years later, when you see the guy in an elevator and he is fat and smoking a cigar and saying long-time-no-see. – Phyllis Battelle

Birds of the same feather… belong to the same species

Why does someone tends to lean towards the people he has the same inclinations with? Why must we find someone who shares our ideals, likes, or dislikes? Was it because we want to be accepted, agreed upon and never questioned? We were so satisfied in our comfortable zone that we dare not try to step out of the line.

However, there’s a certain great delight in going with the unknown – threading the road less traveled, going against the tide or swimming against the raging rapids. Would you be willing to be different and stand above the rest? Would you like to waddle in the murky waters?

I’ll dare.

People are pretty much alike. It's only that our differences are more susceptible to definition than our similarities. – Linda Ellerbee

Lies that had long since lost their function

Holy (insert expletives here) shite! The pilot episode of the long-awaited TV show in Singapore has been finally aired. I’ve been waiting for Lost to come over to the Singapore tv land since it started in the US. Imagine the excitement pumping through my veins when I came across one of its promos over at the cable channel AXN and then later on at the local English channel (Mediacorp 5); they said March 2005 will welcome the Lost mania.

March had come and gone yet I haven’t seen a single episode from any of the two channels. Later on I learned that Mediacorp had earned the exclusive rights to the show, which meant that cable channels could not air the show before them. Urgh! It’s like Desperate Housewives all over again.

Anyways byways, it’s finally here and just as I anticipated, blew my mind away. Every character had his own story, his very own little lie – a misrepresentation of reality, which could be the redeeming force to help them survive the ordeal.

The positive thinker sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.

Leaders don’t force people to follow; they invite them on a journey

There’s a changing of the guards in our team at work – big time – two new big bosses. Everyone is on their toes, feeling the new current, walking on eggshells. Today, we received an email about the new directives from the new boss; it piqued the ire of the members of our team. Who wouldn’t? Let’s just say that it trod on the subject of tardiness and long tea and lunch breaks.

The quasi-memorandum, in my opinion, backfired; now, my colleagues and I have resolved that we’ll come to work early and leave early (no more OTy). If they insist, feint that you aren’t feeling well because of skipping the afternoon tea break. Productivity is defined by the results not by the attributes.

Leadership is the art of getting someone else to do something you want done because he wants to do it. – Dwight D. Eisenhower

Memories as the key to the past

I am fuming mad at pbase today. I was one of those who were lucky enough to open up an account with them early on – back when they don't have a capacity limit yet, when they don't charge. I can bet ,yah, I was using a big space then, because I didn't resized the pics taken from our digital camera and simply uploaded them at my account there.

That album contains a lot of my little boy's pics; from the moment he was born, to his first month, christening, first food, fifth month, everything up before he turned one. All those pics are now gone! I know I should have paid for the space when they later on announced that they'll start charging for their services, but they said that they wouldn’t be removing those existing pics. It was okay if they don’t want to host my pics anymore, but the least they could have done was send an email to alert me.

Anyway, so much for that – who am I to rave? – I still have copies of those pictures. The only thing that irks me the most is that I have to spend some time to get those from my CD archive, resize them and later on upload.

A father's hand will never cause his child a needless tear pt.2

I stayed with a second cousin (far older than I am) in an apartment and at the same time kept a place in a boarding house near school when I began my first term in DLSU; half-way through it my Dad gave me a visit as he was in the city for another one of his regular meetings and executive check-ups. We shop and he brought me to my great aunt's house and told me that I'll be moving there. I did not like the idea at first – though my room was big – because it was a long commute to school. He said that I'd be taken cared of more in there; he’ll feel more at ease that he knows who looks after me – not like I had any choice. We said goodbyes when it was time for him to go back to Palawan – not knowing that that would be the last time we’d see each other.

I was looking forward for the one week break between the first and second terms, but my hopes were quenched when my grades arrived and they weren’t up to par at what my parents had expected; so I had to stay and study. Middle of the new term I got a call to go home urgently; our life had changed since then.

Never had it crossed my mind that I’d be losing a parent early on; I had dreams of seeing them together old enough to see our children. Well, life can sometimes play tricks on you; we all had this way of believing or dreaming of things such as forever to liberate us from the all-known fact that our lifetime is just but one minute dash in time.

I was angry. I was hurt. I felt like I had been cheated on. Luckily, before all those anger turned into hate, someone pulled me back and pushed me to see the ultimate reason for his passing.

I have not yet said my final goodbye to him; for in my heart and in my mind, he is still with me. How could you say goodbye and try to forget all the good memories? We talked then and we still talk up to now. I know that he is watching over us, guiding us, and protecting us. He shared my sadness and my joy, my defeat and my triumphs. I’ve been lost once somewhere in oblivion and agony, and he found me.

I miss you, Dad. And I can’t wait until we’ll see each other again; but until then, remember that you will never be forgotten.

A father's hand will never cause his child a needless tear pt.1

Father's day is just around the corner, let me laud about my father first. Reynaldo or Rey to his friends and Rene to his close relatives; he could be turning 59 next month had he lived past 45 years. Let's not veer into that depressing part, because I wouldn't be able to finish this thing if we go there.

You can say that I'm a Daddy's girl for the first 12 years of my young life; I had to relinquish the title when my mom gave birth to another girl in the family. Nevertheless, those years had been memorable even after his eyes had suddenly turned towards my younger sister – more wonderful for me as I was entering my teen years then.

I am my father's daughter (I hope you get what I mean). I am his metaphor; we had so such in common. We don't talk too much and hardly shows too much emotion or affection. He loves to collect books – it was his collection that filled our library then. We share the joy of solving mathematical problems. When I was in school, for problems in Math and Science I go to him; for English and Social Studies, it was my Mom; and for Filipino, I am left at my own devises (now you know why I'm not that good). I remember when I was on my fourth-year in high school there was this problem in Physics that I had some trouble solving, I went to my Dad and asked him to check if I got it right. He said my answer was right but it wasn't the correct way to go about it. We argued on that one really loudly (Mom even went over to see what we're doing), I insisted that my method works and he wouldn't accept it. We never got to resolve it though, because lunchtime is over and he had to back to work and I had to go back to school. When I got home, he asked how my assignment was, I said I didn't got the point because both of our methods were wrong. We laughed at it and solved it together the right way; later, he said he would have thought of that one, had I not insisted my way.

It was his role to always come on stage and pin my medal whenever the school is over and it's time for the recognition day; he missed when I was in Grade Three because my grades slipped and I only got the third honors – maybe, that sort of gave me some warnings. The biggest disappointment was on my first-year in high school because I didn't even get on the honor roll (only three of them got in). I couldn't even go home that day and tell my Dad that he won't be pinning any medal on me that year. I was raking my head on the reasons I could give to his WHYs – I was too caught up with the fun of being in high school; my teachers aren't that great (they're boring); my classmates had irked the teachers and I was included in their sweeping of giving low grades; I find the lessons really hard (absolutely not); I skipped classes because of extra-curricular activities (well, yes but not that often). He didn't ask me any though, I wondered why.

He'd bring me to discos, isn't he cool? Our family would sometimes go out and spend the night in pubs; I would dance with him, my brother with my Mom. When I was in high school he'd pass by the pub my friends were in and check if it’s time for me to go, if I say I want to stay, he'd go off and tell me that he'll swing by after two hours – there's no such thing as a handphone back then and pagers we're only used by 'really important' people.

My mom was the one who took up the disciplinarian job between them, so when it was my Dad who would tell us to lean forward and prepare for some smacking in the butt, you'd know that we really did the most terrible thing. Luckily, I already left for college when he got that very long stingray's tail (buntot ng pagi).

One time, when I was in high school (I think around third year) he saw me coloring one of my projects, he said maybe I should take up Fine Arts in college because he found the coconut tree I was working on to be good – I didn't took him seriously, because I just traced that drawing somewhere. That was the only time he suggested on what course I should take up when I get to college. He, as well as my Mom, never imposed any course or career on me; maybe because they trusted me too well that I would make the best decision on that part, but he was the one who got my application form for DLSU when he went to Manila for one of his regional meetings.

We're almost on my college years, I'll tell you that story on my next post.

When irony happens without words

I did something last night that I had been restraining myself not to do for the past five months: pre-order the latest Harry Potter book. I’m weak; I gave in and fumbled. Come to think of it, on the morning of Saturday, 16th of July, I will wake up at around 6 a.m. and prepare to be at the Borders bookshop in Orchard by 7:01 a.m.

Imagine my shock when I opened the paper this morning, and saw the Singpost ad that they accept pre-orders for the same book and that their offices will be opened on that same date and time to distribute the orders. SingPost main office is just two bus stops from my place. Goodness! I felt like ramming my thick head into the wall. They even offer the book at a cheaper price! They could deliver it to your home, or if you collect it yourself at their office, you could get a free Pizza Hut personal pan pizza. Now I’m going to ram my head to that hard wall!

A child changes everything

Children come into the world with their own agendas.
Some to brighten our days...
Some to test our patience...
Some to give us purpose...
Some to take care of us...
Yes, when they come children change everything.

Do those lines sound familiar? If you watch Desperate Housewives they would definitely ring a bell; I took them from an episode in Season 1. For a Mom, like me, these lines will struck a cord, tug in our hearts, and will make us think… true. They are true.

I got an invite from a friend saying that after our dinner together, maybe we should go clubbing and go to the eye-ball party of the Filipino IT community here in Singapore. I declined and said I'll only stay 'til dinner. I can't even believe myself that I was sputtering those words. There was another one who asked to just go out and have a few drinks on Friday night; I said 'no' to that one too. I have finally realized that my lifestyle is suddenly changing.

My whole world took a certain detour when I had my little boy; the clubbing nights were almost lessened to those spent with my husband and other married friends; partying would mean going to a child's birthday or christening party. Gone were the days where I spent the weekends watching movies, walking along Orchard Road, or shopping. I can't even watch my favourite TV shows now religiously. Here's one example:

I asked my husband to give me one hour of alone time during Monday nights so I could watch Desperate Housewives; most of the time they oblige, but sometimes they don't. Two weeks ago, I was sitting on the couch watching another episode of Desperate Housewives in the living room; all of a sudden, my husband comes out from our room telling me that our son wouldn't let him turn off the lights so he could sleep. I told him just to leave the lights on to avoid wailing on my son's end. A few minutes later, it was my son who approached me and told me to turn on the lights inside our room. These two were testing my patience. I guess it wasn't just my life that took a detour.

So when my friends ask me why we don't have a second child yet, I simply gave them a knowing smile. I am actually taking care of two kids right now, and I am still enjoying it. I am not yet ready for another swing in our life into another direction. For now, I'll bask in my first child's agenda.

If we are to teach real peace in this world, and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with the children. – Mohandas Gandhi