the detox couch

2008-01-12T15:15:00.001+08:00

Gray skies and Saturday rain greeted me this morning. It's been pouring the whole day. It's quiet now; there's only the sound of the raindrops and the keyboard keeping me company. P is fast asleep for his siesta. Me, I'm thinking of my sister.

She's going back to Singapore now and I wish I was able to spend more time with her. I promise I'd visit her in April. I hope I can. I'm thinking of her now, with little Aiden sleeping sweetly on her lap. I'm happy I got to know and play with my nephew. When he grows up, I'd take him kite-flying. We'll have a grand time, Aiden and I.

Last night, my family--that's my brother, his wife and my niece Iya, my cousins (Borgy, Bryan, Barry and Keng), my sister, her husband and Aiden--had dinner together. P was with us, too.

There's really nothing execptional with this post--none of my posts are anyway. I just want to send out my thoughts to all of them now. I'm thinking of you guys...

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31 rehearsal days to go and it's show time. Sometimes I ask myself why the heck did we choose to produce "The Phantom of the Opera" anyway? Look at us now, all stressed out and exhausted. And panicking. But just like I told Max, "we will always be ambitious!" (That's actually a retort to a parent who said we are so ambitious for attempting to do Phantom).

Note to self:

1)sign contract with PETA theater and SDC Hall at the Ateneo.
2) study Modules 5 to 6 of Dr. H's Psych of Reading.
3) Ask Belay if she could be our pianist for the play.
4) Help with Iya's 3rd birthday party.
5) FINISH CHECKING SENIORS' PROJECT PAPERS Parts 1 to 3.
6) Call Mama.
7) Breathe.

A New Year's Wish

2008-01-04T22:45:00.000+08:00

"May [this] year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art--write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in [this] year, you surprise yourself." ~ Neil Gaiman

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Friday randomness:

* I went with Tere to TriNoMa and Greenhills and shopped till we both dropped. Well, she did the shopping and I did the picking. I was reminded of the times when we would shop together--when I was still single and working for the project and she was still in college. I would always, always get impatient with her for being too meticulous in inspecting whatever she was buying. As in parang quality control sa factory :p But as she puts it, she just wants her money's worth.

Had a quite early day today. Had coffee with P before he sent me off in a cab to meet my sister and he to his work. Met up with Tere at Gymboree where my nephew Aiden and his dad J were. Aiden was so cute in his first class with those cute little people.

Spent about three hours in the mall, lunch was Japanese. Headed to Greenhills afterwards and shopped some more. My sister was so happy with her purchases. It was just a bit annoying because she kept on converting Singapore $ to peso. Haha.

Had dinner there and of course, I had Reyes chicken barbecue AGAIN. Sarap eh.

Tere and I have matching necklaces.

Our conversations mostly focused on family and work and how much we think we've changed since we got married.

She went home with me and sorted her loot. I was egging her to do some sort of a runway show so we could ooh and aah at the clothes but she was too lazy to do so :p

Then J picked her up. Aiden was asleep.

I'll see her again on Wednesday and definitely on Friday. She leaves for Singapore on Saturday.

* Sometime this afternoon, Mama texted that she was reading a Danielle Steel novel and said that she knows I could write something like that someday. She said she used to read my blog when she was still at my cousin's in Markham. That was the first time Mama actually said something about my writing. And yes, Ma, I will write something someday. And you will be in it.

* Big Night na tomorrow. To those who don't know, P and I watch PBB! I love most of the celebrity housemates hahaha. Really. I like all the Big Four but I wish Jon wasn't evicted. Sana puwedeng Big five. Oh well. So tomorrow, P and I will be in front of the TV at 8:30pm. Do not disturb :p

Oh, and vote BB_Ruben! Hahahaha. Ano ba ito.

* 1 hour na lang and I'll be logging on the Ateneo website to check out the admitted freshmen list! It's nerve-wracking!

* Congratulations to the lioness B for passing DLSU!

* There's the nice chilly January air. Sigh.

* Two days before school resumes. Gaaaaaaaad!!!

* Yun lang.

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Happy New Year!

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Thank you, Borgy, for being there for all of us. Love you!
"I don't have a perfect family but I love the one I have..." ~ Borgy

Ano'ng Gagawin Mo Ngayong Pasko?

2007-12-28T20:38:00.000+08:00

Para ito kay Mama at sa ating lahat. Sana'y makita natin anumang ating hanap. Maligayang pasko!

Ano’ng gagawin mo ngayong Pasko
Nag-iisa ang ‘yong puso.
Dapat mong isipin mayrong ibang
Nagmamahal sa’yo.

At kung di makita ang hanap mo
Mga kaibiga’y naririto.
Ating ipagdiwang yaring panahon
Tulad ng mga bata tuwing Pasko.

Ano’ng gagawin mo ngayong Pasko?
Nag-iisa ang ‘yong puso.
Dapat mong isipin mayro’ng ibang
Nagmamahal sa’yo.

Lululu…

At kung di makita ang hanap mo
Mga kaibiga’y naririto.
Ating ipagdiwang yaring panahon
Tulad ng mga batang tuwing pasko.

Ano’ng gagawin mo ngayong pasko?
Nag-iisa ang ‘yong puso.
Dapat mong isipin mayro’ng ibang
Nagmamahal, nagmamahal, nagmamahal
Sa’yo.

Lulululululululu.

~o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

* Christmas has been a rollercoaster ride but it's been good; mostly spent time with P, his family and mine. P and I also got to go to simbang gabi at the Gesu and this season led me inwards, more spiritually. I got to attend a recollection at Stella Orientis, too, which I needed so so bad...

* In the hustle and bustle of Christmas, there was a huge part of me thinking about Mama and how she is, how lonely she is now in Canada, how hard she has to work there, how cold it is there, etc... I know that no matter what I do, Christmases will never be the same again until Mama is back here with us.

* My sister and her family are arriving from Singapore tomorrow so that's one great Christmas gift to me. I promised to myself that I'd spend a lot of time with her this time, even if there's really a lot of work for me to do for the rest of the break.

* My brother needs a lot of prayers and good thoughts for his health. God, please make him well...

* P and I have gotten even closer this year. He is the sweetest gift I have.

* P and I hosted breakfast for Mommy, Papa, Butch, Cynthia and Fr. Bill Kreutz this morning. It was lovely. I'm so happy Manang Cyn liked the house. They're special gifts to P and me, too.

~o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

Two and a half months from now and my Seniors will be graduating. What a year this is, what a year...

2007-12-20T22:36:00.001+08:00

Blogger has just eaten an entry I wrote a few minutes ago. It was actually a rant about this person--from my husband's side of the family, actually. It was just as well, I suppose. I was mad. Frothing in the mouth. Ayaw siguro ng langit na lumabas pa kung gano ako kaasar sa taong yun.Ayoko ng bastos. Yun lang.

Tama na nga. There's just too much negativity already. It's Christmas. It's Christmas.

Wise Up

2007-11-28T22:24:00.000+08:00

A day like this makes you wonder what you are doing here in the first place. Why do you put up with this, with them, when no one really cares to know you? No one really knows your world, your soul. Why are you here? You will come and go and they will not even know it. What's left of you are pieces of a crushed heart in a fist, blood wordlessly dripping.

It's not
What you thought
When you first began it
You got
What you want
Now you can hardly stand it though,
By now you know
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up

You're sure
There's a cure
And you have finally found it
You think
One drink
Will shrink you 'til you're underground
And living down
But it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up

Prepare a list of what you need
Before you sign away the deed
'Cause it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
No, it's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
No, it's not going to stop
So just...give up

~ Aimee Mann, Wise Up

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You never learn. You ignored all their warnings and trusted again. Wise up, girl. Wise up.

Happy birthday to me

2007-11-22T21:28:00.001+08:00

With my boys in Crisologo Street, Vigan, on my 29th birthday. Wish my P were there with me.

Sweet...

2007-11-22T21:13:00.000+08:00

For now...

2007-11-07T21:11:00.000+08:00

I'm signing off.

My class had just recently won a national competition on entrepreneurship, and helped a GK community in the process. We bested other schools like Ateneo, Pisay, Southridge, etc. So proud of them.

I have been very, very tired lately; mainly because of school--my Seniors and I are totally loaded with work. On Saturday until the 20th, we'll be up north going around Banaue, Bontoc, Sagada, Baguio, Vigan, Laoag and Pagudpud for their History of Architecture and Anthropology classes. I'll be with them as, well, a watchdog and writing teacher.

I don't know why but today, I had THAT feeling again. I want to vanish.

I'm going to miss P. I'm going to miss everyone; well, I'm missing everyone already.

Oh well. I feel dumb, worthless, useless. Or maybe it's just pre-birthday blues. I'm turning 29 in nine days. Can you believe that? 29? Can't wait til I'm 30.

Yeah, 29 years old, and what have I done? What have I done in this wicked, wicked lifetime? A Master's degree with a thesis lacking; articles, poems, stories in magazines, newspapers and anthologies here and there; empty pockets, unread books,blank notebooks; ended friendships; broken hearts and enemies; crushed souls...

Boy, this is getting depressing. Must stop.

Hanggang sa muli.

This week on this side

2007-09-01T16:33:00.000+08:00

A list:

1. P started his Meteorology block with the eighth graders. So far, so good. He's happy and that's the most important thing for me.

2. I'm done with my Realism block! My ninth graders and I had our moments. I can't wait to have our end-of-block camping, which will happen IF they'd manage to be Study Hall-free for an entire block--three weeks! Update: this morning, Alyssa and Bai told me some of their classmates already have study hall... :( Next block: Russian Lit. with my Seniors. Am I excited? You bet! My first blockw ith them this year.

3. Finally managed to write an article for the Star again. It was out this morning. Next week: "Underdog" issue.

4. The Seniors had their auditions for "Phantom of the Opera" yesterday. It was...uhm,hilarious! Hahaha. Kidding. They were great! But I don't want to say more. I'll post the casting on Monday :)

5. This morning, the Seniors joined us teachers in a meeting with sixth grade parents. They shared their experiences as Waldorf students. According to Bebop, she was enlightened. I'm sure the parents were, too, since the kids did very well in their talks.

6. I'm spending the rest of my Saturday here at home. P is at the Ateneo for a board meeting and so I'll catch up on my reading while he's out.

7. I miss Mama. And Tj and Tere. I miss my family.

8. Borgy, thanks for your email. I'm so happy that you guys are growing closer with each other. Thank you for supporting your kuya TJ. I wish I could be with you guys as often as I want...

9. I have a new notebook. It's yellow (or is it green? :p) with a pink plastic spring; it says "Girls Rock!" on the cover.

10. Oh, and the Seniors are joining this year's Teenpreneur Challenge. We're competing against 20plus schools. Wish us luck.

It's September already. Can you believe that? In six months, the seniors are graduating! It's altogether scary, exciting and sad for me...

Anyhow, until my next post.

Finding solace

2007-08-24T10:26:00.000+08:00

This week, some of my questions have been answered: the answers came unexpectedly but not in a surprising, jarring way. It was like a butterfly lightly landing on your shoulder. You feel it very, very slightly; it becomes more palpable only when it's gone.

On a late Monday evening, I was just sitting in my study, staring at the silent PC. I was just sitting there, hugging my knees, my eyes surveying the room for something---something I did not know. There was that searching, seeking feeling in me. I knew I had questions inside but I didn't know what they were exactly. Just when I was about to stand up to finally go to bed, my eyes fell on Joyce Carol Oates' "Small Avalanches and Other stories". I haven't opened this book for quite some time. I remembered savoring each story in the collection, never wanting the stories to end.

When I opened it to a random page, to the story "The Sky Blue Ball", I was gifted with this: "In a long-ago time when I didn't know Yes I was happy, I was myself and I was happy. In a long-ago time when I wasn't a child any longer yet wasn't entirely not-a-child. In a long-ago time when I seemed often to be alone, and imagine myself lonely. Yet this is your truest self: alone, lonely..." What does it mean, I asked myself? What is it, what is it?

That particular story is about a high school girl who "encounters" a sky blue ball soaring over the fence and lands in the path in front of her. She figures that a child in the other side of the fence is probably trying to play a game, and so she throws the ball back into the fence and the game continues. As the game with the unknown playmate continues, the girl is reminded of her childhood. After a while, the ball doesn't come flying back to her anymore and she wonders...she decides to go around the other side of the fence, looks for her "playmate" and the ball...but finds nothing...

What is it, what is it? I still don't know what it means, what this particular story is trying to answer in my head, but I know there is something...I know something has been answered because after I read the story, there was that calmness, that recognition, just like that little butterfly on your shoulder.

And then last night, P and I watched "Stranger Than Fiction", and again, another question has been answered.

Who is writing my story?

Why are you doing it?

How will you end it?

How comforting, isn't it? An answer to a question could be another question.

For now, that is enough.

STATEMENT FROM THE FILIPINO PRESS CLUB-DUBAI

2007-08-24T09:23:00.000+08:00

Ms. Malu Fernandez's travel columns "From Boracay to Greece" (*People Asia*,June 2007) and "Am I being a diva? Or do you lack common sense?" (Manila Standard Online, July 30, 2007) continue to draw negative reactions from Filipinos here in the United Arab Emirates (UAE).

While we, the Filipino Press Club in the UAE, believe in press freedom and the wide latitude given to writers in expressing their conscience, we believe that Ms. Fernandez and her editors overstepped the bounds of responsibility with these stories.

The incident recounted in her flight via Dubai to Manila in which she berated fellow Filipinos (who had already endured the misfortune of working away from their families) on board Emirates for wearing "cheap" perfumes had no significant bearing to her story.

This particular anecdote did not provide any form of entertainment, learning opportunity or even delightful trivia to the readers. To suggest all Dubai-based OFWs smell awful because they are unable to afford expensive perfumes like the one she's wearing is high-brow snobbery.

It is the same snobbery stamped on the psyche of some members of the Philippine society's elite that has caused the yawning gap between our rich and poor, and the economic exodus of which millions of us Filipinos have now become a part.

To enlighten Ms Fernandez and her editors, Consul General Maria Theresa Taguiang from the Philippine Embassy in Abu Dhabi cited unofficial estimates (as of December 2006, submitted to the Philippine Congress) that there are now 250,000 Filipinos in the UAE. Of that figure, 24 percent are professional workers, 35 percent are skilled, 24 percent unskilled and 16.89percent household workers (housemaids, personal drivers, nannies,cooks,tutors, gardeners, among other household staff).

More local as well as foreign companies in the UAE are employing Filipino workers because of their proficiency in English and admirable work ethics.

A print medium that aspires for relevance in today's competitive media world
cannot hide under the skirt of press freedom for its licentiousness to insult a group of people. One's freedom to poke her fingers begins where someone else's nose begins.

Ms. Fernandez's unrepentant response to the barrage of angry reactions from OFWs and their loved ones ("I obviously write for a certain target audience and if what I write offends you, just stop reading"), simply adds fuel to the fire.

A nation like the Philippines that aspires for renewal and regeneration needs a responsible press with a high level of sensitivity to all sectors that comprise it.

We strongly demand that the publishers of People Asia and Manila Standard Today to take full responsibility and do the right thing: give Ms Fernandez and her editors a disciplinary action and apologise to the people insulted by these articles.

THE FILIPINO PRESS CLUB-DUBAI
(A mutual support group of Filipino professional journalists from the print,
broadcast and web-based media in the United Arab Emirates)

___________________________________________________________________

From last night's news:
Ms. Fernandez had resigned from her stint at the Manila Standard and People Asia.

Samba

2007-08-18T16:41:00.000+08:00

from a story fragment I wrote two years ago, on Valentine's at that:

She’s still reeling. She can’t forget the way he would look at her, his eyes screamed her name, in a voice suffering in anguish because he could not touch her, should not touch her. He watched her walk towards where he was standing with his friends, shivering as she glided past him, the scent of midnight suddenly descending upon him. He wanted to breathe in her scent, behind that small circle of her ear, the pulse on her neck, her graceful collarbones where a delicate strand of silver flowers rest like fingers on ivory keys. He wanted to grab her, shake her, and embrace her till it hurt both of them. He would have kissed her, bitten her lips till they bled. Such desire he has never felt and it frightens him that she could have this power over him, seizing him all over.

He stayed outside the bar until they told her they were to start playing. He was playing the surdo that night. The sound of all the drums beating was inside him, rising like fire, all too loudly in his ears, in his chest. He beat the surdo with the palms of his hands with every cell of him screaming her name, Christine, Christine. Somewhere in the dark of the bar, she was dancing, the passionate rhythms of the samba captivating her; her arms circling her as her hips sway towards the fiery crescendo building up in her feet, her thighs, her stomach, sweat between her breasts, chests heaving; her head swirling with the sound of drums and her name which his eyes screamed…

Malu Fernandez: Huwag Tularan

2007-08-17T15:47:00.000+08:00

Isa lang ang pakiusap ko sa mga taong kagaya mo: wala kang karapatang tawagin ang sarili mong Pilipino. Nakakainsulto.

Lahat naman tayo ay may kanya-kanyang hinaing. Lahat naman tayo nasusuka sa gobyerno, sa mga pulitikong walang inatupag kundi, ano oa, eh di mamulitiko. pero maski na, mahal ko ang pinanggagalingan ko... Pero ito, walang tatalo dito...

Mula sa isang article sa People Asia na isinulat ni Malu Fernandez:
"However I forgot that the hub was in Dubai and the majority of the OFWs (overseas Filipino workers) were stationed there. The duty-free shop was overrun with Filipino workers selling cell phones and perfume. Meanwhile, I wanted to slash my wrist at the thought of being trapped in a plane with all of them.

While I was on the plane (where the seats were so small I had bruises on my legs), my only consolation was the entertainment on the small flat screen in front of me. But it was busted, so I heaved a sigh, popped my sleeping pills and dozed off to the sounds of gum chewing and endless yelling of “HOY! Kumusta ka na? At taga sann ka? Domestic helper ka rin ba?” Translation: “Hey there? Where are you from? Are you a domestic helper as well?” I though I had died and God had sent me to my very own private hell.

On my way back, I had to bravely take the economy flight once more. This time I had already resigned myself to being trapped like a sardine in a sardine can with all these OFWs smelling of AXE and Charlie cologne while Jo Malone evaporated into thin air."

Nakakahiya ka. Nakakaawa.

At humirit ka pa

“…Just recently, I wrote a funny article in my magazine column and my friends thought it was hilarious. It was humorous and quite tongue-in-cheek, or at least I thought so, until the magazine got a few e-mails from people who didn’t get the meaning of my acerbic wit. The bottom line was just that I had offended the reader’s socioeconomic background. If any of these people actually read anything thicker then a magazine they would find it very funny. Most people don’t get the fact that they need bitches like me to shake up their world, otherwise their lives would be boring and mediocre. I obviously write for the a certain target audience and if what I write offends you, just stop reading.

Although it may sound elitist to you the fact is this country is built on the foundation of haves, have-nots and wannabes. One group will never get the culture of the other. Although I could mention that it is easier to understand someone who has a lower socioeconomic background that would entail a whole other page and frankly I don’t want to be someone to bridge the gap between socioeconomic classes. I leave that to the politicians in my family who believe they can actually help. Now I seriously ask you, am I being a diva or are people around me just lacking in common sense? Perhaps it’s a little of both!” - Malu Fernandez

(emphasis mine)

Pu@%*&$@!!!! "Acerbic wit" ba kamo? "Funny"? Pakshet.

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P says: "You dare go to a beauty parlor? You should go the zoo and have yourself groomed at the hippopotamus department, you fat ass!"

2007-08-09T10:37:00.000+08:00

I was one of those who have been praying for rain, first, because our water reservoirs definitely needed it (June's heat was too much!), and second, because I needed it: a bathing, a cleansing.

So yesterday when classes were called off, I was one happy girl. But today, another no-school day, why am I as gray as the sky outside? Why does it have to be such a rollercoaster ride?

At 28, should I still be asking questions like this?

Maybe it's time for me to explore a new space, a new world. Time to go.

"How long till my soul gets it right?" ~ Indigo Girls

2007-07-20T22:51:00.000+08:00

How exactly does one get rid of things she doesn't need? Of extra baggages that weigh her down?

How long does it take to be forgiven? To forget and be forgotten? How does one break habits and patterns she no longer wants to take?

How does one take that final, absolving breath?

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Pieces of Happiness on a gray Friday:

1) A box of original glazed Krispy Kremes
2) lunch with dhey
3) video of Iya on my phone
4) thoughts of finally having my own beagle or a lab or a dachsie
5) P holding my hand while driving
6) two new thick notebooks
7) reading old text messages from my family
8) coming up with these 7 items

In the beginning was the Word...

2007-07-17T22:04:00.000+08:00

I just finished my Poetry block with the coolest tenth graders in school (haha...*wink*) and it was a great experience: daunting, full of discoveries, fun, crazy, EXHAUSTING and most importantly, inspiring. They gave me a reason to start writing again---and the journey has begun--again.

The strength of this class is that they can all see the beauty of possibilities, the ironies of creation, the sacredness of wounds...I want to keep growing with them.

It's also for this reason that I want to make my very OWN twelfth graders fall in love with poetry again. I wish going to college weren't such a big deal. I wish having nightly arguments with parents weren't too much to bear. I wish they could all just be, me included. But that's where the grace lies, right?

So, here's to my beloved oddballs! On to clunkhood! :p

(You guys, I know you'll read this...and no, you're not escaping study hall or homework :p )

"Fight a good fight, Tintin" ~ Dan Freeman

2007-06-21T19:20:00.000+08:00

1. It's only the third week of school but it already feels like we've been back for months. I'm handling seniors so college applications add to the pressure. There's a lot of personal stuff, too, that I can't talk about here.

2. Something's up. I can't believe he let things happen like that. He was supposed to be in control of them!!! Kung puwede lang ako manapak ng tao, I would! Kahit lalake pa sya. F&$@! Grow up, man!

3. Thank you, Dan. I'm going to miss you a lot but we'll see you in March next year.

4. Learn from your mistakes. Stand up. Pick up the pieces.

5. I wish Mama were here...I could really use a hug from her right now.

There, my life in numbers. I wish I could just go away now :(

I Want Some Sugar In My Bones...*

2007-06-02T09:57:00.000+08:00

because I need, need, need to start working. School starts next week and hell, I have the entire galaxy full to the brim with work to do. The manpower agency across the street is having its usual karaoke fest, which started at 7:30 this morning. I've gotten inured to it,really but frig it, I need to work!

Good thing, there is wind outside and I can see the caimito leaves dancing again. Here in my little corner of the universe, everything is fine. As long as the wind and the sun are out. Nina Simone in my mediaplayer is keeping me company,too.

Question: how many times does the quarter-life crisis have to strike? Sheesh, I'm at it again...

It's amazing how one can be so quiet inside while it's total chaos outside. Wishing that silence means peace, joy.

Ok back to work. Really.

*from the Legendary Nina Simone album

Suffer the Little Children

2007-05-30T10:44:00.000+08:00

Have you ever thought about how much children have to suffer because this world has decided to be unfit for these angels? But then you can’t help but admire their resilience, their zest for living and standing above all these. I wish we still had the wisdom of children, the freedom that they feel as they run across fields or all over crowded streets. And what of the hope they have in their hearts? How come we cause them so much pain, like fragile butterflies crushed in our palms?

We are what we are now because of the wisdom and hope that we’ve lost as children. And then it goes back, way, way back. What a mean cycle. When will it end?
(image from stat.gov.uk)

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On a lighter note, I’ve listed the following myths that we believed (or were made to believe) when we were kids. Some are totally silly but since myths are mirrors of our consciousness, in a sense, there are truths in them, too. Haha. I didn't translate them in English anymore. Mas totoo sya sa Tagalog :)

1. bawal mag-payong sa loob ng bahay; uulan ng butiki
2. pag may sugat ka, lalabas ang tren---o pari--dun sa sugat
3. pag umuulan at umaaraw ng sabay, may kinakasal na tikbalang
4. pag makati ang ilong, may mamamatay na Intsik (ang sama no!)
5. pag nilunok mo ang bubble gum, magdidikit-dikit ang intestines mo
6. pag nilunok mo ang buto ng calamansi, tutubo ang calamansi sa tiyan mo hanggang mapuno ang tiyan mo ng calamansi!
7. pag nag-iyak-iyakan ka, magkakatotoo ang iniiyak mo
8. bawal maligo pag 3pm na on Good Friday, magiging dugo ang tubig!
9. pag dumami nang dumami ang kuto mo, ililipad ka ng mga ito sa puno ng kawayan na may kumukulong langis
10. pag natulog ka nang gutom, tatayo ang kaluluwa mo, magbubukas ng kaldero hanggang sa matabunan sya ng kaldero--OR
11. tatayo ang kaluluwa mo, lalabas ng bahay, tatawid papunta sa tindahan para bumili ng pagkain---at masasagasaan!
12. pag kumukulog, nagagalit si God kasi matigas ang ulo mo--OR
13. nagbo-bowling si San Pedro sa langit kaya kumukulog

What else, what else? P and I were still in bed this morning when I started thinking about these. Ano pa ba? :)

Got this from Naya : )

2007-05-28T17:17:00.000+08:00

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Sentimental Sunday

2007-05-27T11:40:00.000+08:00

I went home yesterday while P is away at a dive trip to Batangas. I stayed behind and declined an invitation to a weekend with some friends at Bonito Island so I could spend time with my family, especially my brother. And though I'm happy that TJ, Kieyh, Iya and all cousins were all together yesterday, this certain loneliness wouldn't go away. Maybe it's the wind outside, quiet and gentle. Maybe it's the leaves of the caimito tree waving at the sun. Maybe it's the birds (they've already forgiven me, I think). Maybe it's because it's a lovely Sunday morning.

I'm here thinking of everyone dear to me especially my family in Tondo, Mama in Canda, Tere in Singapore, relatives in countries all over. I feel incomplete. It's as if I have a part of me in each of them and them in me. (Then what about those I have lost? Tatay and Nanay, Ninang? I welcome the feeling of missing them though...)

Because we all can't be together at one place, at one time, I have scattered selves, I am not whole.

Random, hohum

2007-05-14T10:31:00.000+08:00

Just had my morning coffee but my brain still refuses to cooperate. I've planned to work all day and prepare for my curriculum presentation this Thursday and read the chapter assigned to me for the teacher training--"The Emancipation of the Will in the Human Organism"--whaddahell...si Steiner talaga o.

Since P has volunteered in the PPCRV, I had planned to go home to Manila alone so I could vote but I lost my left contact lens yesterday making me temporarily blind because obviously, I can't go around wearing one lens only. I've never lost my lenses before--oh well, except for Ninang's funeral when I was crying the whole time. Anyway, I don't want to wear my glasses either because they make my eyes hurt really bad due to the discrepancy in the lenses' grade and that of my eyes'. So, there. Lame, isn't it?

Anyway, I just talked to Mama and we chatted like the two of us were just across each other, having coffee. Now, I'm chatting with Borgy and Barry, while blogging at the same time, and uploading pictures in my Multiply. Anything to stop myself from working! Aaargh...

Tomorrow, I'm back to school again. Imagine, school starts in 3 weeks already! Where has my summer vacation gone???

Oh, when reality kicks in, it kicks in real hard. I'll pretend to work first. But I'm pretty sure, I'll be back blogging again about the inanities of my life in a mere moment...

Mama

2007-05-13T17:28:00.000+08:00

Dearest Mama,

It's past five a.m. where you are now. You must be sleeping still but would wake up in an hour or so just like you always do when you were still here in Manila. I know it's cold there. I've checked the Markham website again for the temperature and I hope you're warm enough and comfortable in that unfamiliar weather. Now that you're there, I find myself praying for good weather there at your side of the world. I know how your rayuma acts up when it's too cold.

Two weeks ago, I watched a movie called Inang Yaya, the title role played by Maricel Soriano. I'm sure that you'd like that movie, Ma. It's one of the well-made Filipino films I've watched so far. You were on my mind the whole time I was watching it. I kept wishing that you were there watching it with me because the nanay in the film reminded me so much of you and I wanted to point that out to you: "ganyan ka rin, Ma, o..." It's just like A Pursuit of Happyness--this is the movie I also want you to watch, the one that could've gotten you into trouble with the US Customs because of me. It's almost the same story: a single parent raises his/her kid/s and sacrificing so many things in the process. Both movies end happily, Ma. And that's also another thing I want to tell you: though we're still weaving the story of our lives, somehow I know that this is going to be a "happily ever after" simply because you are our Mama...

When I was a kid, I thought that being a mother was the most terrible thing to be: you were working hard all the time--kayod kabayo as they say. I've seen you move from one job to another in hopes of earning more for me, TJ and Tere. I've seen you work as a schoolteacher, an insurance agent, a jewelry dealer, a Tupperware dealer, tocino and longganisa dealer; you even had a halo-halo stall in front of our house. You did all these, sometimes doing two or more things at the same time! And then there were the three of us to be taken care of everyday; homework to be helped with, projects to be made, field trips to be paid for, tuition fees to settle...Sometimes one of us would get sick and I'd see you worrying silently again because there wasn't enough for our baon let alone for medicines and doctor's fees. But you never gave up, Ma. All those years, you just lived it. Rose above all of it.

And now, you're so far away and it's again because of your love for us. I want to thank you for that. I want to thank you for all you've taught me. Thank you for never judging me, for letting me be free and be myself, for believing in me and helping me fly. Thank you for being you: cool, funny, crazy, wise, strong, loving and forgiving. Thank you for giving us your heart, your soul. We love you, Ma. And we miss you so so much.

Happy Mothers' Day, Ma.

Tintin

2007-05-13T17:23:00.000+08:00

This morning, the birds did not sing. They haven't done so since I wrote that poem about their song.

P said they're sad. Are they on somewhere else's tree now? Or are they just there on our caimito, sitting still, looking down at me through our bedroom window?

I'm so sorry. I was very upset when I wrote that. But it's done, isn't it? Let me make it up to you. Please sing for me again.

Counting Two

2007-05-12T10:20:00.000+08:00

Today, we celebrate our second year of being together as husband and wife but more than that, I think of the twenty years more, or forty if God wills it, when you and I will both have gray hair and twenty-something grandchildren chasing each other around De los Reyes. Today, I think of how our paths have already crossed even before we have actually met and why the first time we exchanged words was really just the right time.

You are my best friend, my ultimate kakampi, my lover, my co-conspirator in doing crazy, fun things, my inspiration and my life--and I wish I could say more because you are more than all these words.

Happy Anniversary, honey. I love you.

come, take me away...

2007-05-11T18:09:00.000+08:00

(image courtesy of littlerocket.net)

birdsong

2007-05-10T18:45:00.000+08:00

why do people think birdsong is lovely
when it's really empty
they just sing because otherwise
what would they do other than
flutter their wings
and perch on treetops
there is no beauty
in their songs
but only the sound of
people thinking there is music
when there is none---that,
that is beautiful.

because, today, words were said and they hurt.

2007-05-10T18:22:00.000+08:00

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills -
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn't matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn't always understand.

~ Czeslaw Milosz

2007-05-02T21:30:00.000+08:00

One thing I like about De los Reyes street, despite its residents belting out videoke songs and cats mating shamelessly in other people's backyards, is the sound of children playing outside. Since it's summer vacation, kids in the neighborhood are out in the street early in the morning, taking a break during lunch which could also be a chance for their moms to force them to take a bath and get rid of that amoy-araw smell and libag all over their their skin, after which, they start to take over outside again, as if it were their own private kingdom, their "Terabithia", if you will. They play outside usually right up to midnight. I can still hear them now.

A couple of hours ago, I heard a grumpy man shouting "hoy, para kayong mga kalapating nakadapo diyan!" Apparently, the rugrats have decided to stick themselves onto the grumpy neighbor's gate, like Spiderman crawling a skyscraper's facade. Then some smart-aleck shouted back, "lipad! lipad!", retorting to the grumpy neighbor's allusion to pigeons. It was funny, actually, and cute. As all of them "flew" away, somebody decided that they needed to change the game they were playing. It was "viva, ice water" this time.

I listened to them, looked out the window here in the study and I realized they were playing what to me and kids of the 80s knew as "Monkey, monkey".

"Monkey, monkey, Annabelle!
How many the monkeys, did you see?"

"1--1-2..
And the rikitikitik
and the blue, black sheep,
is this true?
Yes or No,
Y-E-S---alis!"

I'm not really sure if that's how the words are spelled. What is rikitikitik? Heaven knows what. But it surely was one of my favorite games.

Now, "Monkey, monkey" has evolved into different variations. There was the "Shake, rattle and roll", "Shake, shake, baby", which I think are permutations of the walang kamatayang "langit lupa".

I wish all children in the world would get to experience the joy of playing out in the streets instead of being cooped in their suburban homes, with their Play Stations or their PCs as their playmates. And even when there are children out there in the streets, I wish though that they could play instead of working--selling their wares or begging for alms. I also wish that our streets were safe enough for children to play in. Playing is every child's right.

If only these politicians campaigning for next week's elections could promise this: a world safe and nurturing enough for our children to live in...

Breakfast in bed

2007-05-02T21:14:00.000+08:00

(this photo was taken at my in laws'. Nothing to do with the post :))

When I opened my eyes this morning, P was tiptoeing towards the bed carrying a breakfast tray: tuna omelette, toast,orange juice, papaya and melon slices. Thanks, honey...It was lovely.

Fat Tuesday

2007-05-01T20:08:00.000+08:00

These days, P and I have been planning our meals carefully so we can avoid too much food wastage. Cooking for two can get more expensive if not planned well. And so, tonight, we did the same. While he was out on an errand, he texted me what we'd have for dinner. Pork steak, steamed talong, okra and talbos ng kamote with bagoong. Weird combination? Well, we love it :) We also had mango shake using the mangoes he put in the freezer, which had actually turned into slush. They could've gone to the garbage, but thanks to the Osterizer, we had our own fruit shake for the night.

When P and I sat down to eat, we were amazed: we've actually whipped up a feast! So much for trying to lose my flab in time for this Friday's beach trip.

P's actually the chef of the house while I do the rest :) Hey, washing the dishes, pots and pans, wiping the countertops and all, are no easy tasks, mind you. But I like it. P's a terrific cook but seriously, I can never trust him when it comes to cleaning up :)

And so, despite everything, despite having to tighten our belts, we are thankful for all the simple pleasures that we are blessed with everyday.

***

P and I have developed this habit of saying each others' name like "Tintinnnnn!" or "P...!!!" This is when either of us gets into that moment of realizing that we are indeed together. Yes, sometimes we realize this and we just can't believe it. If you know what we had to go through to finally end up with each other, you'd know what I mean. How many people do actually end up with the one he/she truly desires to be with? Poets have waxed, well, poetic, about it. Painters, sculptors, composers have depicted this human predicament in their art and music. And still, that longing, that agony of not finding him/her will always be there. In the same way, when you do find the One, you agonize over the feeling of what--unbelievable joy? Bliss?

Why am I mulling over this now? No, it's not the dinner. It's just that I keep wondering, "what did I do to deserve having this kind of love?"

***

I have three close friends who are in complicated relationships. One's hooked up with a married guy who says he wants to leave his wife but can't because the wife's weak and suicidal. Another's also with a married guy who claims he's separated but just stays in the wife's place for their son. The third one's also with a married guy whose wife's clueless about the existence of my friend in the guy's life. All three of my friends are in their mid-twenties and are all career-women: one's a chief accountant, another's a doctor and the third's a training officer. All of them are strong women, talented and brilliant in their own fields. But they have one thing in common: their men and their relationships. Now, I myself have been in problematic relationships in the past and to say that I have learned my lessons well would be an understatement. But that's the truth. Still, I don't want to be self-righteous about this whole thing because, yeah, look who's talking, right?

Well, as I have been telling my friends whom I all love dearly, they need to make a decision: either they decide to get out of their relationships and move on, or, stay committed to these men and wait for what happens next. The three of them have expressed, in one way or another, a discontent about their situations. The pain of not being the only one is there. The fear of being found out is there. The uncertainty of not being with the guy for good is there. In some instances, they've even expressed that "they're just going with the flow." And this is what I don't get...

I'm not even talking about morals here because that can be bull, you know? I believe in choices, you know me. My friends have chosen this situation for themselves and if they can live with it and if they believe that this is what they want in life, no problem with it. But I know, there's something there. There's a catch.

Ah, why did I even get into thinking about this in the first place??? This post has gotten pointless. Now, I don't know where I'm going. Sad thing is, I have a feeling my friends don't either...

2007-04-30T15:24:00.000+08:00

Last night, I got into reading my past entries in my old blog and boy, my life before was definitely something. I sort of miss that old self. Reading those entries inspires me to start taking blogging 'seriously" again. And better yet, to start writing seriously. I've also noticed that I have been saying this over and over--beginning in my blog entries from 2003 to when I closed that blog in 2006! Grabe! It just means that when it comes to my writing life, I really did not accomplish that much at all...

But it's alright. I am really going to make it work this time. More than teaching, the whole world knows that what I want to do with my life is to write, write, write. Just talking about it and not actually doing it has gotten so predictable, so boring. I know. So, I've decided that I'm just going to do it. You'll see. :)

An old entry

Thursday, May 06, 2004

Sentimental Thursday

I love you in the simplest meaning of these words. To define it and to attempt describing it are beyond me. I have tried doing so before, with the many faces and names that I have once promised to keep for a lifetime. But here I am, connected to this invisible but real thread of loving: we can either choose to cut it, or just weave it intricately till our hands get tired and we just choose to hold each other's and rest.

I do not want you any other way. I want the same cologne on your collar, the muscles that twitch at my slightest touch, the mouth that curls up into a smile when I kiss your neck, the same mouth that frowns and bites and kisses and eats...

I have chosen you, among those names covered with the Past;among the names to come.

I will never own you nor you will me. My love will keep my center, like gravity, it pulls me on the ground...

Moving on

2007-04-24T22:25:00.000+08:00

I ought to write a substantial update but as always, I'll put that off.

Fourth week of summer break and I'm not so thrilled about it. For one, the heat is really killing me. I can't wait to finally hit the beach next week. Then, there's the pile of work waiting for me to do, which I just can't start doing because of, again, the heat.

Mama left for Canada last Saturday and that sad, sad feeling that used to break my young heart whenever she was away came back, this time, cutting deeper. I miss her already. Then again, I'm really happy that she's starting anew and that's what really matters. I just feel lonely at the thought that I can't see her anytime I want to. Having coffee with Mama, smoking with her, shopping, talking about stuff--well,hmmm. I'll have to wait for a couple of years before we can get to those things again.

I intend to visit my brother and the rest of the family more frequently. I miss them, too.

***

P and I have been staying at home these days, with the occasional trips to the mall and to our families' houses. We've been having afternoon walks at the Ateneo, too. I need to lose all this flab really soon! Ang taba-taba ko na. Thing is, it's only my tummy that gets all the inches.

My summer's going quietly. Kung hindi lang sana sobra ang init, ok na talaga. I'm glad though that P's always with me. One of these days, we'll make our own homevideo entitled "Happy Together" haha. Thank God we are.

***

Summer Reading

Done:

1. Black Swan Green by David Mitchell
2. Enduring Love by Ian McEwan
3. Teacher Man by Frank McCourt
4. On Beauty by Zadie Smith
5. The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier

Next in line:

1. Art of Modern Education by Rudolf Steiner
2. In the Country of Last Things by Paul Auster
3. Brothers Karamasov by F. Dostoevsky (re-reading)
4. Wickett's Remedy by Myla Goldberg

Flipping through the pages, alternatingly:

1. Bagets ed. by Eugene Evasco and Carla Pacis
2. Negotiating with the Dead by Margaret Atwood
3. Teaching Reading in Middle School the author escapes me
4. Best Words, Best Order by Stephen Dobyns

***

I'm still searching for that "life-changing" book for summer. It's been a while since I've encountered such book. From The Teeth of Angels pa yata ni Jonathan Carroll yun...

Ian McEwan has that effect on me but he makes me impatient. David Mitchell started to be promising but it still wasn't it. Kung may nagbabasa pa nito, any suggestions? :)

Momma and Them-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

2007-03-28T00:47:00.000+08:00

What would life be without this bunch?

2007-01-09T20:52:00.000+08:00

Earlier this evening,while waiting for P to pick me up from school,I suddenly told myself: I could die now.

I am exhausted. We had to adjust the whole department's schedule because of an absent Music teacher; just one teacher missing and the whole school went gaga. And so I taught practically the whole day with only a 50 minute break and a late Jollibee lunch at 3pm. But as I sat under the duhat tree when everyone has gone home,with my feet aching like hell, my back sore and burning,I looked up at the sky and had that moment of utter contentment.

If I'd have to go right there and then, I said, I wouldn't resist. I thought of P and told myself, he'd understand; he knows I love him so much and knowing that he knows is comforting. I've known these kids for two years, so I guess that's good--at least, I've already become a part of their lives. My family will be fine, I said. Because of these, there's no reason why I should fear death, right? I know I've done my best to live freely, trying my might to love and be loved. So as easily as saying yes to freshly brewed coffee, I said, "yes, I could die now."

Who knows?

Iskul Bukol

2007-01-08T22:27:00.000+08:00

I’m supposed to be doing tons of things for school now and besides that, I should be preparing dinner since P’s arriving from work any moment. But as usual, the urge to do something other than what you must do is stronger.

Today’s the first day back to school. It started out fine with my eighth graders generally receptive to my introduction of, drum rolls please, the Sun. I had three straight classes from 8 til 12 noon and it was exhausting. My ninth graders had a poetry exercise to start the year and our A Separate Peace unit. I gave them one of those formulaic creative writing, which I wouldn’t normally give but works great when kids just need to let their thoughts out freely and without care for the more disciplined poetic standards. Here’s one of the more striking ones:

“I seem to be a Great tree
in the rainforests of Africa
but I am just a leaf on the ground
waiting to be stomped on…

I seem to be like a Wolf,
Proud and wild
But merely I am a dog, tamed
And leashed…

I seem to be the cub,
carefree and playful
But in spirit I am the lion,
Taking care of the pride…”

- K, grade 9

One of my eleventh graders submitted his paper on Gandhi, which was actually a consequence for violating a school rule. But more than a consequence, it was also supposed to be an act of atonement. This boy is one of my most intelligent, stubborn and opinionated students. He doesn’t mince his words, is a self-declared capitalist who vows to be filthy rich (even richer than his family is now) in ten years and do this at all costs. He sees a Darwinian world where one survives “by thinking and acting only when it benefits you”. He likens compassion to a condom—you whip it out only when you need it. Some colleagues were bothered. I am, too, of course. But then I realize that this ignorance as I’d like to call it is the reason why teachers really do have an important task in the education of adolescents. I’ve had this boy for two years now and when I first heard his ideas similar to this one, I was appalled and bothered for days. I pointed fingers at so many things: the way he was raised, the wealth of his family, TV and so many other things that I thought had to do with why he thinks the way he does. I wanted to blame people, former teachers, parents… I was even close to resigning to the idea that this kid will turn out to be a really despicable person in the future especially since he is far from being nice at present. In fact, he’s a real challenge—to his teachers and classmates and to his parents. I practically have conferences with his parents every month!

He’s just sixteen and clearly intelligent. And yes, he can do so many great and terrible things when he grows up. It’s scary isn’t it? I mean, we teachers have reasons to be bothered but we also have to face him and always bring his ideas back to him.

I look at him differently now. I see a boy, an adolescent who’s actually asking “why is the world this way?” When he says this is a dog-eat-dog world, I hear a voice saying “this is life, isn’t it? Why?” I actually sense fear and apprehension and I want to tell him “it’s alright, you can do something about this.” WE will do something about this. Now, it’s even scarier.

In a way, I can’t help but think that it is OUR fault that this kid is starting to believe ideas like this. It is OUR fault that he is growing up in a world like ours. Soon I will ask him about hope. I know that deep inside, he has this.

2007-01-05T22:48:00.000+08:00

Five days into the new year and well, I'm in my self-made limbo. I am not yet ready to go back to school because a) I'm not yet done with my holiday break to-do list; b) there is yet another batch of to-dos waiting for me and c) I don't want to do all my to-dos. It's unbelievable how I've left all these things undone and now I'm wondering where my vacation went...

To think my PhilStar K.O. article this Saturday is about getting back into the groove of school--the article is another story, by the way, as I believe it deserves the trash can. Shame on me. What am I doing, still deluding myself that I can write? But I digress.

I need to focus. Three months to go before the school year ends! I'm also down to my most dreaded part of my curriculum: teaching research writing. I. don't. know. how. to. teach. research. Here are my excuses: I'm not an education major, hence, no how-to-teach-research classes in college. I had great English teachers in high school, but I suppose they weren't educ majors, too, judging by the way they taught research. I majored in Literature and so the research process, though not at all unfamiliar to me, was a skill I just acquired and not as systematic as it's supposed to be. I'm just not so confident teaching it :( So my plan is, I'd do it with them instead of rattling off the steps as what the textbooks do. Modelling the process is ideal in the classroom anyway. So wish me luck.

I'll also be teaching Parzival for my last block. It's the crux of the eleventh grade curriculum and it will be my first time to teach it. Again, wish me luck.

***

The only thing I want to do these days is sit in front of the TV and watch replays of America's New Top Model, Sex and the City on dvd, and One Tree Hill whenever I catch it on ETC. I'm obviously braindead and it's been going on for days, months! Speaking of SATC, I realized that I have most of Carrie Bradshaw's men, at least the most significant of them, in P: Aidan,Petrovsky,Berger and Big. This deserves a separate blog entry.

***

And so, happy new year to us. Live, love, laugh, dream. Happy new year!

Here, Kitty, Kitty

2006-12-30T11:50:00.000+08:00

So, this explains the days and nights of wauling:

"Cats are referred to as "polyestrus," which means that they will go into heat cycles periodically during their fertile years. These heat cycles may start as early as the fourth or fifth month of a kitten's life, and will continue until she is either bred or spayed. Heat cycles in cats last from several days to two weeks or longer, and repeat every two to three weeks. You can see then, how a female cat may almost always seem to be in heat.
No one can say with any accuracy that heat cycles are painful to cats; however from the calling (loud yowling) and other symptoms they exhibit, it would appear that they are very uncomfortable."

Our street was turned into cat-motel this past few days, and just yesterday, the neighborhood white tomcat and a stray black decided to have their honeymoon in our very own backyard--first-rate suite!

I probably looked ridiculous trying to scare them away, shooing and booing them to no avail while they look at me, the black one on top of the white (or was it the other way around?), with that so-what-are-you-looking-at-girl-you-voyeur-you look.

I was so disgusted it was actually ridiculous. I could have screamed at them "go, get a room pussies!" and they would just stare..and stare..and stare.

What could those hot felines do, right? They were simply responding to what's natural to them. I've been looking for the right word to describe it. It's not feral since the act is sexual. What is it, what is it? Kahayupan: this is good enough for now. Kahayupan in the very sense of the word.

I guess it's the same way with dogs doing it in the streets. There's just something--uhm, darn, I still don't have the word. I'm sure old Freud has some explanation to this: your wild, natural instincts are being reflected, blah blah. Next time they do it again, I'd bring out my stuffed Garfield, who is honestly the only feline I could stand and adore.

Merry Christmas!

2006-12-28T22:05:00.000+08:00

Here's to hugs, kisses, poetry, kids, wine, love, laughter and life!

God, I want a baby

2006-12-21T22:43:00.000+08:00

Please...

Thank You

2006-12-19T23:40:00.000+08:00

Last Friday, our students had their Christmas party in which we teachers were invited. The kids planned everything—from food & drinks, music, their dates, dress code, etc. We were actually surprised that they invited us adults since it was supposed to be their “own” party. Somehow, we all felt that that night was extra special, perhaps because they were all dressed up (attire was semi-formal) and we are used to their t-shirt-jeans-flip-flops ensemble everyday. To see them in skirts, dresses slacks, polo shirts, and closed shoes was sheer delight. Sabi ko nga, mukha silang tao. They were gorgeous!

R, an eighth grader, hosted the party in his opulent Capitol Subdivision house. Food was great and his dad served good wine (to teachers only, of course). When P and I arrived, the party was in full swing. When the last of my colleague arrived, the kids announced they’d start their presentation. Excitedly, we all gathered in the sala, expecting some song and dance number, the usual, we thought. Apparently, they have prepared something “special”. It was going to be Teachers’ Awards Night, they said.

We were scared! What if they give us really embarrassing awards, we all thought. The emcees, N and J, said that they’d start with the “minor” awards which are mostly “blooper” titles. There were the Bonkers Award (most hyper teacher), the Oops Award (absent-minded teacher---me!), the Klutz Award, Wow Legs Award (teacher with the hottest legs—imagine!), the Yosi Addict Award, the Coffee Addict Award (me, again!) etc. Then followed the Smartest Teacher Award, Santa’s Elf Award (teacher who always helps the kids in projects, plays, etc.), Mr. Congeniality (friendliest teacher—my hubby P! His ballroom sessions with the kids helped hehe). Then they called my name for the Coolest Teacher Award and I thought, wow, this is something; my students think I’m a cool teacher??? Cool!

When they announced the Biggest Heart in the World Award and called my name again, I couldn’t help crying. As they explained why they chose me for this award, I just sat there looking at them, crying, smiling, laughing, all at the same time.

Other awards followed. We cheered on each teacher and laughed at their funny thank you speeches.

Then they announced another award: the Teacher of the Year.

Yes. Unbelievable.

Until now, I can’t believe they chose me. How can I believe it? I have doubted myself (I still do!) for so many times and have thought of giving up, thinking that I was just cheating my students because what do I know about teaching? What do I really know? When they started citing reasons why they voted for me, I was overwhelmed. I stood speechless, feeling both humbled and joyful.

To borrow from the PDI’s anniversary contest winner: “To be honored for something you love doing is unbelievable.”

That night was priceless. To my Kawayan kids, thank you. You are my inspiration. Para sa inyo ito.

Finally, Officially

2006-12-09T21:34:00.001+08:00

Finally, I now have in my hands my official college diploma. After 6 years (the date stamped on the receipt was year 2000), I was forced to break the spell of procrastination, went to my Alma Mater and claimed my diploma. I was forced, mind you. I wouldn't have bothered if only the Dep. Ed. wasn't requiring us to submit our transcript of records--now that's another story. I don't have even a photocopy of my college transcripts. Seriously. Is that really strange? When my co-teachers found out, they were shocked. You don't have a copy of your records? Nope. I never really needed to show anyone how many times I endured Math 102. But what about your previous job? Nope. My brilliance was apparently enough for them (ahem ahem). But you're supposed to keep your records! Eh, wala eh!

Truth is, I used to have a copy--of course. Silliman wouldn't have accepted me for my master's and fellowship without it. U.P. wouldn't have let me take my M.A. units in MP if I didn't submit that darn paper.

But two days ago, when I was forced to show that "proof" and couldn't, I myself doubted: did I really finish college, went to graduate school, or was I just imagining it? Then if that's the case, I told my poor self, everything that transpired some time between 1999 and 2002 was just a hoax: Dumaguete was just a dream--the boulevard walks, the apartment in Amigo subdivision, the barbecue plates and 3+1 Red Horse rounds in El Ams, the lovers, friends, unfinished thesis--all never existed! Then, the shared townhouse, Vlad, Bebang, "the second encounter" with Vim, my humiliating "iyakan" blues in Sir Jun Cruz Reyes' class, etc, etc--these are all figments of my imagination!

And so, to Espana I went.

Ha ha. Totoo nga. Nag-kolehiyo naman pala talaga ako. But don't you think it would be more interesting if I DID find out I never graduated from college or worse, never went to college? Mas masaya di ba? Mas Calvino ang dating. May dating. Ha ha.

But of course, there I was standing at the Registrar's Office, proving to the world that I, Tintin, on the detox couch, is as normal as the bubble gum on the sole of my Chucks.

***

Six years pa lang pala akong nakakapagtapos ng kolehiyo? Parang sampung taong mahigit na ang pakiramdam sa dinami-rami ng mga pangyayari, kabulastugan, pagbabago, walang-pagbabago, kabagutan, kasintahang nagdaan, mga kaibigang iniingatan...parang ang tagal-tagal na!

***

Then again, six years--that's long actually. I don't remember much of it now. Another sad fact in my book.

When the universe tries to tell you something

2006-12-05T21:34:00.000+08:00

...you have to listen. Intently.

Tonight an affirmation dawned on me quietly like a butterfly alighting on one’s palm: I am in the right place, with the right people, in the right time. First, there was the moon. Tonight it shines in its silver and yellow glory. Full. For all my anxieties and preoccupations with work, I still noticed it. That is something, isn’t it? Then I chanced upon this poem and it spoke to me words that my soul longs for.

BEING
Don Paterson

Silent comrade of the distances,
Know that space dilates with your own breath;
ring out, as a bell into the Earth
from the dark rafters of its own high place-
then watch what feeds on you grow strong again.
learn the transformations through and through:
what in your life has most tormented you?
If the water's sour, turn it into wine.

Our senses cannot fathom this night, so
Be the meaning of their strange encounter;
at their crossing, be the radiant centre.

And should the world itself forget your name
Say this to the still earth: I flow.
Say this to the quick stream: I am.

~~~
(thanks to Jeline for the poem)

2006-11-21T23:48:00.000+08:00

Today's a great day. One of the usual days in school, actually, except for the fact that God answered one of our prayers. Nope, I'm not yet pregnant, but the good news we got today is something really important to P and me.

Anyhow, today was also extraordinarily tiring. Was in school at 8:30am, tried to work on some stuff but caught in discussions with my colleagues. Had classes at 1030am to 12 noon. Lunchbreak, choir class (in which I'm the pretentious pianist), English class again, faculty meeting from 4:30 to 6:30, then that PETA-sponsored talk on Phil. Art History til 9pm. Had dinner at Wan Chai, grabbed a cup of Chai latte at Coffee Bean and now, trying to come up with a decent blog entry.

I'm tired and sleepy but I just wanted to make sure I'd write something today.

Oh and the kids are actually seriously working on the newsletter this time. It's amazing to see them--my editors--badgering their schoolmates about their articles. Kina-career he he.

Also in my eighth grade class, which is my most fun class, I felt that I didnt give them enough; like they wanted more. We started discussing Flowers for Algernon as a lesson on character development in fiction and point of view and truth be told, I wasn't as prepared for that class this afternoon, and I hate that. It's like I'm cheating my students and kids sense that.

I hope I'd be more focused on my work and on my writing. It's just about simply doing it, I know. Alright, I'm going to doze off any minute now. More on the next post.

28 and (trying to be) Fabulous

2006-11-19T17:58:00.000+08:00

I turned 28 three days ago. I must say it was really a blessed day as 1) I had a steaming hot venti cup of Starbucks Sumatra and sweet birthday notes on a wad of Starbucks napkins on my desk waiting for me while they pretended not to notice me or cared about my birthday as I passed by them in the mess hall. After I read all their notes, I went to them feigning annoyance at them when they suddenly broke into a chorus of the birthday song; 2) P took me out for a Japanese lunch and 3) P's family gave me a dinner party and the best chocolate cake in the world. Last night, 4)my own family came over for another birthday salu-salo.

Of course, my family and friends' text messages made me feel so loved. Thanks to them for that.

All day long, I was searching inside me for that familiar birthday feeling that I used to feel as a kid--that giddy, excited tickle in your tummy, expecting great things to come. Iba na nga yata talaga pag tumatanda, right? Well, I can't wait when I turn 30. I guess that would feel different. It ought to.

I have so many things to be thankful for. P and I are still together, thank God, haha ;p Our families are doing well, and my work is something that I really love.

And now that I'm older, I still find myself having more wishes though. Life will be better I know. It ought to.

Hmmm, I don't like where this post is going so i better end it now. Happy birthday, tintin! It's been 28 years, can you believe that? : )

2006-11-06T21:23:00.000+08:00

P and I rushed Papa (my father-in-law) to the NKI late this afternoon. He had just come from the dialysis center when Mommy called us up, telling us that Papa was having bad ab pains and was having body spasms. It turned out his potassium level has shot up and the doctors are suspecting dyspepsia. They were also concerned about his heart and his blood pressure was really high, too. Papa has had triple heart bypass years ago.

I wish I could be there with him at the hospital tonight...

***

I am so disappointed with my eleventh graders. Well, at least with the girls. I gave them a pre-test on The Grapes of Wrath today and all the girls DID NOT finish reading it because 1) they found it boring and dragging, and 2) they were just not interested in it. One of my best students who also happens to be a literature major in the making and a very good writer does not even have her own copy of the book!

It is not an easy read but I think it's one of the best American novels I've ever read. Nakakainis sila. How can I make them see its beauty? A part of me is challenged to really work hard and make them love it but another part of me, the tired and drained part, just wants to give up and give them boring lectures to just get it over and done with. Bad trip.

Same case with my ninth graders. One boy did not read To Kill A Mockingbird at all and was so shameless about it. Well, this book isn't really my favorite but I still think it suits the class not to mention it's in the curriculum.

These kids think that they always have to like what they read. If it's any consolation, I haven't had this problem with my classes before. Waldorf kids, at least my students that is, are readers. This time, though, they were just brats...

I have all sorts of creative lesson plans (this is Waldorf so everything should really be done creatively and not in the traditional, dead way) and activities for them. I just hope that they'd be able to see that literature doesnt always have to be "enjoyable". That's actually something that I always tell my students, that they can take literature apart and put it back together; to see our lives in it. Oh well, I hope something better comes up. This is a time when I badly need their enthusiasm or I'd just give up...

2006-10-30T23:37:00.000+08:00

I've been taking advantage of the sem break by seeing my favorite people in the world. I'm sorry for ranting the other day. My friends know I love them so much.

Anyhow, I met up with S for coffee and dinner after having lunch with my family. Talked about a friend's upcoming wedding, what to wear, who's dating who...but mostly, the concern was her baby girl A, my goddaughter who's been diagnosed with Kabuki syndrome, a rare genetic disorder that has no cure. Kids with KS are speech/hearing and usually intellectually impaired. Their immune system is weak and in fact, baby A is in and out of the hospital almost every month. There are only 150 or so documented cases in the world. I've been thinking of ways to help S because therapy and hospitalization costs are just too much. I don't have the money to offer but I'm thinking of projects that would raise funds for the baby. I'll make sure to find time and work on this.

S has been blaming herself for her baby's condition. Although the doctors told her the causes of KS are unknown, S still believes that it's karma. Karma sa lahat ng kalokohan niya. She thinks it's payback time now. Well, I told her things happen for a reason. Sounds unfair for the baby, right? Cruel even. But then that's just how life is. You just got to live and hope. Reminds me of Crooked Finger in Antonia's Line: it is absurd to believe that the constant pain afflicting us is there purely by chance...on the contrary, misery is the norm, not the exception...

To me, accepting that misery is constant means living. Where there is acceptance lies hope. Wala yata akong sense pero iyon eh.

So there we were in a mall roaming around, the din drowning our voices as we were strolling. Somehow, we both found solace in Book Sale, perhaps searching for answers in second-hand pages that definitely cost much less.

After dinner, we hailed a cab for her. She got a text message to go straight to the hospital because the baby was running a fever again.

Sigh.

I always say labo. Labo ng mga pangyayari sa buhay. Labo ng mga tao. Labo ng mundo. Minsan nasasabi ko rin, labo ng Diyos. Then again, I am jolted awake. Hindi. Hindi malabo ang Diyos. Tao lang ang malabo. Tayo lang talaga.

Tonight, I am determined to rise above all I'm going through. With P, things will not be impossible. With my family, things will have a purpose. With my friends, things will have meaning. Ayoko nang maging malabo.

2006-10-29T22:26:00.000+08:00

Just got home from dinner and tea with my best friend N. P’s out with his Ateneo friends and the wind’s getting scary outside.

My last entry embarrasses me. I hate it when I whine like that. What the hell, I needed to let that out, anyway.

**
Spending time with one of my dearest friends was good for me, not to mention Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf’s banana cream pie. N was more candid than the last time I saw her and again, we tried to find the answer to our perennial question: will she ever settle down and get married to Mr. Right?

She’s at the peak of her career and is now dabbling in teaching yet she’s not happy, she claimed. We have another friend who’s now earning 100k a month as a trainer in a call center, not happy either. One thing they have in common is their relationships—both complicated.

Listening to her talk about stuff ranging from her addiction to Kenshi of Samurai X, to her thirty pairs of shoes, to the man of her life, down to client presentations that have gone awry made me feel less lonely if only for a while. She reminded me that I’m the only one who can get myself out of this rut--with a plus-- "You’re lucky”, she said. “You have P. You have a home”.

***
This could also be pre-birthday blues. I’m turning 28 in 18 days.

I’ve already received my first birthday present: Neil Gaiman’s Fragile Things from P. Last year, he gave me Anansi Boys and because of this, he’s now my official Gaiman fairy godfather.

I want Rushdie's Shalimar the Clown. Hint, hint ;)

How are you?

2006-10-29T12:33:00.000+08:00

This is one of those days when I really should be writing down my thoughts because there are a lot of them swarming my mind. I stare at the monitor and wait for the words, the glare tiring my eyes, and still, nothing comes. These days, I am wont to say God doesn’t answer your prayers when you need Him to, when you really, badly need Him to do so. When I am this hopeless, jaded and exhausted, I feel like I am at the wrong place, with the wrong people, doing the wrong thing. How can I be teaching those kids when I myself have become tired of learning? Seems like all I ever do is learn from my mistakes, from other people’s and then that’s it. Nothing comes after. No fucking light at the end of the tunnel.

Hope costs a lot these days and I just can’t afford it.

***
Angela won the poetry writing contest in school. When I first noticed her in English class, it was because she couldn’t even write a paragraph about her seventh birthday party. Then I had her for Creative Writing class where she retold “Little Riding Hood” and made up her own John Wood, and at the age of twelve had characters asking about the meaning of life. Last Friday, she shined and amazed us with her words. She’s one of my dragonflies that keep me going.

***
Last night, in a tough feat of showing P that I am interested in people, his friends specifically, I joined them for some booze and banter. We first caught ourselves dying in a schmaltzy QC joint with a band blasting off Dust in the Wind and Hotel California, bad fish and sisig, and the cheesiest crowd ever. We ended up transferring to the bar across the street, where a costume party and salsa night was going on. It was a tad better there, thank God.

Then it dawned on me again. I am such a bore. P asked me to dance five times and I rejected him. After my first beer, I ordered coffee and longed to bring out my book and just tune out. Sometimes I feel so sorry for P because he’s married to a geek like me who’d rather have coffee and good conversation on a Saturday evening—and doesn't care if she'll have to do the same thing every Saturday evening. How blah, right?

Well, now that I think about it, I talk and think about my students five days a week, and on weekends, which are supposed to be mine, could you blame me if I just want to sit down, have some quiet and talk about…me?

Anyway, last night was a change. Mindless, testosterone chatter. I’m glad I went and hopefully next time, my dearest P, you could have that dance.

***
I dread the thought of going home to my family in Manila later. I can’t bear hearing about problems anymore. Also these days, when my friends call me, it’s about their own baggage, too. Come to think of it, when was the last time I was asked, kumusta ka na, Tin?

For dearest Ayvi

2006-10-24T22:06:00.000+08:00

"...I'll make a sound that's so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I'll make me a sound and an apparatus and they'll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.'

The Fog Horn blew..."

- excerpts from The Fog Horn by Ray Bradbury

Back On Air

2006-10-08T10:12:00.000+08:00

Last week, the college of teachers had a workshop on language: what should the medium of instruction be, what really is the ideal foreign language (we have German and Arabic at present), how do students express themselves, how do teachers teach language, etc. During these days, I found myself all the more confused and even doubtful of my own capacities as a teacher and well, let me just say it--as a writer.

The issue on language gave birth to so many other little questions, like babies crying: do they want to be fed? to be changed? to be carried? to be lulled?

And then the release of the students' newsletter, of which I am the adviser, also came out last week. We had very little time preparing for it--my fault, in a way. I wanted to beat the deadline. Then there was also a hazy reason of the faculty that I was not clear about, as to why we had to release it at the said date. But then my students worked hard on their articles. They were excited. They started planning for the next issue. For me, that is what's important. There were still revisions that could make their work much much better, yes, but the impulse behind it is the significant thing.

Why am I ranting now? I feel tired. I feel like no matter how hard I work or try my best to make things work, it would be futile in the end because I work so differently from my colleagues. I sound like my students now, don't I? Whining like an adolescent who thinks adults are the ultimate villains in life. Well, in a way, there's the rub...

Back to school again tomorrow. I'll be wrapping up my block on Dickens' "Oliver Twist" and we'll practice my eighth grade's musical presentation. For my ninth graders, we'll have to deal with sentence diagramming again and begin "To Kill a Mockingbird". My eleventh graders (my advisory class and the school's most "notorious"--I love them to bits anyhow) and I will end "A Separate Peace" and plan our mock trial. I need to write students' reports for Thursday's PTC, check papers, write an article for this week's parents bulletin, write an article for the Star's K.O., prepare for a nerve-wracking meeting with the parents of my most belligerent male student, stay sane and worry about many other things--the question, now, is "do I still like my work?"

With a sigh, "yes."

2006-10-06T22:16:00.000+08:00

I'm having a bad case of TMJS (temporo-mandibular joint syndrome). Not only does my head feel like exploding into smithereens, my right jaw's awfully painful, too. I imitate Munch's "The Scream" every two seconds. I need some painkillers.

My brain's numb. It simply refuses to function and there's nothing I can do about it. I love my work. Then again I wish Christmas break would come a little sooner--in a week perhaps? Am I this tired???

The other night, P and I had tea at Kopi Roti (there's a decent cafe only a block away from our house!) and I told him about Mika's latest blog entry about loneliness. I told him I'm lonely these days. I'm too lazy now to elaborate but that night, P understood me completely.

With everything going on with my life--my work, my family, some of my friends--I suppose I have the right to just snap and go crazy. At the end of the day though, I thank God for P.

***

Where's my muse? I can't take this anymore...

"If I Had My Way In This Wicked World..."

2006-08-31T23:06:00.000+08:00

Please stop hurting them. Please be a Mother. That's what you're supposed to be.

Germany Fever Still

2006-08-08T20:08:00.000+08:00

clockwise from left: Veronica & Me on the S-Bahn to Schorndorf; the girls & me outside the first Waldorf school in the world; me at the Engele bookstore; my first cappuccino at the cafe-with-no-name at Uhlandshohe.

This Certain Love Affair

2006-08-02T00:16:00.000+08:00

Dear Germany,

Please forgive me if I told you, you were the last thing I would have thought of a few months ago. You were not in sight in my daily things-to-do nor was the idea of crossing continents entered my mind. For how could I? I was too busy thinking of reports, cooking up curricula that never seemed to be finished; meeting teachers and parents; reading, reading, and reading some more while trying to remain a sane and fun twenty-seven year old. I’m lucky to have a very supportive husband who never complains about the fact that I have too much work, don’t you think? But I digress.

A decision was made: I was to go with Class 11 to participate in the 2006 UNESCO World Youth Festival in Stuttgart. I did not say yes instantly, mind you. I thought it over and considered my reasons for wanting to go and otherwise. My closest friends said I would be showing the world a really rare strain of stupidity if I would decline. My husband has always believed in carpe diem and has encouraged me to go since day one. My colleagues believed in me enough to have chosen me. So what else is there to think about? In my heart of hearts, I had my apprehensions. I was scared, I have to admit.

The thought of going to Germany with a bunch of eleventh graders for two weeks is not really something that you mull over a tall cup of café mocha at Starbucks, you know. The thought is, needless to say, simply out of this world. What if Aeon decided to run away and put up his own rock band in Switzerland? What if the girls met some really gorgeous Latinos (they did!) and decided to elope with them to Berlin (thank heavens they didn’t!)? What if Paolo got too drunk in a beer garden? What if, what if, what if? Ah, my worries were endless. But just like so many beautiful things that have happened in my life, I said yes to it. I decided to conquer whatever it was that was holding me back from getting out into the open, and this I did not do with eyes closed. I told myself that if I were really going to do it, I might as well feel, see, hear, taste every minute of it—I wanted to be There with Them.

And so from the moment we applied for our visas to rehearsing our performances, to the NAIA travel tax confusion, to Schiphol’s cafes and duty-free shops, to finally setting foot at the Stuttgart airport, my journey with the class was in itself my own personal odyssey. Not only was the whole trip a chance for me to get to know each of them, it was also more importantly an opportunity for me to get to know myself—again.

You know very well that the trip was not all nice and sweet. I and the kids had spats about the most trivial of things like who’s going to take a shower first to whether we Filipinos have a sense of national pride or not. We had countless arguments the venue of which was everywhere: we fought while riding the S-Bahn, we bickered while trekking down the Engelberg hill, at the McDonald’s Schlossplatz, at the girls’ restroom of the Waldorf school in Ühlandshöhe. Maybe we even quarreled in our sleep. But then, each day for two weeks, there was not even a single moment when I looked at them and saw all eight of them together that I did not feel the love they have for each other. I saw how caring albeit in their crazy ways, teenagers embrace their friends like true brothers and sisters. This love was contagious. I felt it swallowing up all my fears and I respected them for this. I saw how compassionate, tolerant and accepting they are of one another. Best of all, I witnessed how they are their own teachers. No adult teacher can ever beat that in this lifetime.

At first, I was asking myself, what was it about you that brought out the best and worst in us then? Was it the novelty of walking on your streets? Was it your trains and highways, your hills and castles? Was it your people? True, we got homesick. True, we only knew a few phrases of your unfamiliar language. True, the people we met were all strangers. But in one way or another, we all felt like we were “home”. Why was that?

Now, I see that experiencing your foreign land and culture has a deeper meaning than simply visiting a beautiful country. You were actually a witness to a story that began to unfold; a witness to intertwined lives of eight young people meeting the world. You have my deepest gratitude for this.

In the end I realized that I was afraid not for them for they proved brave, loving and strong, but more afraid for myself: for things I thought I could not do, for abilities I thought I did not have and for a love I thought I would miss once I leave home. I still have fears, that’s for sure. But I am learning to turn these fears into something beautiful and meaningful with them—my class. I’m certain you and I will meet again. Perhaps I will be with my students again or they will be on their own—who knows? For now, let me say Mit tiefer Dankbarkeit…Thank you very much.

Auf Wiedersehen,
Tintin

For Kawayan Class 11, with my deepest gratitude and love.

2006-07-24T02:44:00.000+08:00

2006-07-24T02:31:00.000+08:00

2006-07-24T02:18:00.000+08:00

2006-07-24T01:51:00.000+08:00

2006-07-24T01:16:00.000+08:00

Germany in Images (some photos c/o Jel, UNESCO)

2006-07-24T01:05:00.000+08:00

Deutschland!

2006-07-05T04:06:00.000+08:00

Here at Stuttgart! Stories soon :)

Ang bango ng Germany. Pero sana kasama ko si P...

Que sera, sera

2006-06-13T20:30:00.001+08:00

Have you ever mulled over this song?

In Take the Lead, a clip of this song was sung and I asked myself, isn't that so sad? What will be, will be?

Oh I don't know. Maybe I'm just too tired. School's only on its second week and here I am thinking about when I was a little girl, I asked my mother what will I be...

So what will I be really? What have I become?

I want to answer these questions. I want to come up with answers. Yet my brain is screaming for rest. I feel so inadequate. School started without me fully prepared for it. I even have tasks that I should have done over the summer! I don't like this. I hate feeling so inefficient. I'm also afraid that my students will feel this from me--I dont want that!

While I was doing the dishes after dinner, I told myself, well, this is how you've lived your life, anyway, Tin. One day at a time. And it worked, didn't it? It always does.

Yeah, but...

****

In other news, P started teaching dance in school. Waldorf upper school kids are now learning to do the salsa, swing, samba, tango, cha-cha! P did it so well. He captured the students gracefully, followed his steps like they "trusted" him, you know what I mean? It's so inspiring when students actually follow you, when they actually do what you are teaching them to do and you see the result right before your eyes. My husband was amazing! Teaching ballroom dancing to a bunch of kids influenced by hip-hop/goth/emo/rock music is a feat. Honey, you're a great teacher! And dancer, of course.

And tonight after dinner, he taught me the basics of the samba. Have I told you, you are always the highlight of my day?

****

Mama's leaving for Singapore in July to attend to Tere. I'm so sad. Sad because I'll totally miss Mama when she leaves and I won't even be able to take her to the airport because I'll be in Germany by then. Sad, too, because I won't be able to be with my only sister and best friend as gives birth to baby Aidan...And sad, because Mama will be leaving our family back home, especially my brother TJ and his family. Mama's the tie that binds, so to speak.

What will we do without her soon???

***

Sigh. I hope there's a sigh that's big enough to swallow all my other sighs...

Not My Mall

2006-06-03T14:50:00.000+08:00

P and I were at the Mall of Asia last week. It's phenomenal. But it's too much for me. The range of shops should actually be heaven for a shopping fiend like me but then it would take me about ten stops for a bite to go all around the mall. It's too big it would make you famished in minutes!

We had lunch at Almon Marina, a safe choice since we were too hungry and tired to try something new. We just parked ourselves at the closest familiar place. We decided to have coffee at Chai-something across Almon Marina. Wrong move. Overpriced watered-down coffee. Methinks the owners overspent on the interiors and forgot about the quality of the beverage they were supposed to brag about. P got a plain English Breakfast and I had a Vienna blend: they both tasted like hot water with a hint of bittersweet---hmmm, what, come to think of it. Did we complain about it? Nah. Lesson learned the 300-or-so-bucks way. In fairness, the cheese cake wasn't so bad and at least to P's delight, the servers were good looking. They were garbed in black leather. That cafe is trying to do so many things it's actually failing.

The Curse

2006-05-22T22:43:00.000+08:00

Our neighbors from the townhouse beside our house got themselves a spanking Magic Sing about two weeks ago. It started on a rather ordinary rainy May evening, and I went gee, somebody's celebrating his birthday...kawawa naman, the weather's a party pooper... The party went on. And on. And on. And on.

Yep, two weeks ago and counting.

Ngayon, ang lekat na kapitbahay namin ay bumibirit na naman ng hinahanap-hanap kita...hinahanap-hanap kitaaaa... This is just a part of her repertoire, mind you. Her favorites also include Never been to me, ang walang kamatayang Dancing Queen ng ABBA and a Japanese song whose lines sound like alegataka sashimi alegatakasashimiii.... She's at it ten hours every morning, ten hours every afternoon and ten hours every night. Go figure. She has the kind of voice that makes me want to curl inside a cupboard under the stairs (apologies to Harry Potter) and pull my hair strands one by one and eat them in the dark. Her voice has that bakya timbre that curves and waves on certain syllables of the lines of the songs that plague my ears. How do you describe bakya? I don't know. All I know is that the way she sings, her voice, haunt me in the shower, in the kitchen, in my dreams, in school, in the car, in the cab, in my non-existent i-pod, gaaaaddd she's frigging everywhere!

There should be an anti-videoke law in residential areas. Each time the interval between songs lasts for more than two minutes, I rejoice, I sing hallelujah to the heavens.

Kaunti na lang at susugod na ako sa kanila. Well, P will.

So, my friends, please do not even drop the words Magic Sing or videoke when I'm near you lest I strangle myself...or you... And yes, the curse started when I posed in that photo two years ago...

In other news

2006-05-13T22:34:00.000+08:00

I will be here from July 2-17 to attend the 2006 UNESCO World Youth Festival with eight of my students. I'm so proud of them--they made it! I'm happy that I sat with them when they wrote their application essays. The revisions and pep talks paid off. I can't believe we're actually representing the Philippines. At ang pinakamasarap niyan, doon din gaganapin ang FIFA World Cup at naroon kami sa mga araw na yon. Watching one of the games is actually a part of the program.

Iyon na muna ang kuwento until I get my visa and plane ticket from UNESCO.

Anniversary bonk in the head

2006-05-13T22:28:00.000+08:00

I had just finished posting my previous entries on the gifts P and I gave each other last May 12, our first wedding anniversary, when he appeared behind me, munching chocolate chip cookies, taking a break from watching a football game on TV. He sees the photo of the watch he gave me:

P: "Uy, nice, honey, that's the my gift to you ah"
Me: yep, yep

Then I scroll down and he sees the covers of the books I gave him:

P: "Uy, ano yan, Jared Diamond.. Collapse..ok yan ah"
me: *bonks him on the head* "Gagu, that's the book I gave you eh!"

Nyahahahaha. Lovey-dovey pa namn nung posts ko :)

2006-05-13T22:13:00.000+08:00

...and this. My husband's not violent. He's simply fascinated with history and society. That brain of his is so intriguing...

2006-05-13T22:11:00.000+08:00

And I gave him this.

2006-05-13T22:08:00.000+08:00

P gave me this for our first anniversary. I love it : )

2006-05-13T21:43:00.000+08:00

They say I have a way of looking at you that those around us actually feel it. And I do. I love you.

2006-05-13T21:40:00.000+08:00

Thank you for loving me, bad hair days, big ears and all. Happy first anniversary.

Harmonica

2006-05-08T21:09:00.000+08:00

Somebody’s playing the harmonica outside. Fine by me. De los Reyes Street has had enough videoke abuse from its residents. Perhaps this was a teenage boy who’s been dying to tell himself yes, he has a musical instrument he can call his own. When he was eight, nine years old, he begged for a violin, even a second-hand the likes of those sold in Raon. But his father had other things in mind, also saying that violins are for sissies. And music? Music breeds weaklings. Music will just isolate him from other boys with whom he could play basketball or wrestling instead. He didn’t want to have a son like a lonely princess stuck in her tower, playing that stupid violin. Yet the father didn’t know, that would be the last time his son would ask anything from him, of him, ever.

~ a journal entry, two nights ago

Karana, Gene and Finny, and the beautiful Luna

2006-05-08T20:35:00.000+08:00

This is the time, I think, when all well-meaning teachers are scrambling for organizing their curricula, taking care of the family, squeezing in days at the beach—all at the same time. Well, I have been doing all these except for trekking to the sea, which I’m dreaming to go back to before school finally starts. Anyway, I am starting the year with a Realism/Novel Study block for my (very intellectual, deep) ninth graders. In the Hastings, New Zealand Waldorf Curriculum that we have, the Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell is recommended. After reading this Newbery Award-winner though, I asked myself, is this really what my class needs? So the quest for The Novel began.

Since I do not have all the time in the world to read every YA book I could get my hands on, I chose two other titles: John Knowles’ A Separate Peace and Julie Anne Peters’ Luna.

After reading all three, I am at a loss all the more. I read countless reviews and scholarly critiques of these books, all giving merit to the said titles. I also consulted friends (both writers and teachers) as to what they think is the best one. Surely they had their own pick. But now, I am still confused and undecided. I want to do all three if I could! Karana, Gene & Finny or Luna? Who’s the best voice for my class to “listen” to? Through whose point of view should they meet the world this year? Which novel can they see their own selves in, with the same issues the characters are facing?

To answer these questions, I will be writing a brief study of each novel, hoping that in the process, I would be able to come up with the right answer.

The Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell

This Newbery Award-winner is about a fifteen year-old Indian girl named Karana who “lived alone on the Island of the blue Dolphins.” She was left in the island when her people sailed off to another country. There in her island, she learned how to survive on her own—building her own home, taming wild animals, searching for food—and lived her own share of adventures alone. The plot is (painfully dragging for me—personally I prefer twists and turns and undertones) linear and would undeniably represent the Realist movement in literature, which is one of the focus of study for the block.

My apprehensions? I find Karana’s story too simple for the probing minds of my ninth graders. I had to visualize each of my students in the classroom as we discuss Karana. What did I see? They would get her for sure. They would even admire her. But the thing is, my class’ spirit is “bigger” than Karana’s. Don’t get me wrong. Karana is a strong girl. But then in the world of my students, Karana’s world is so remote from theirs.

Of course, there are elements in this novel which symbolize the world my class is in. For example, when Karana was able to tame Rontu, the wild dog that slew her younger brother, she learned to love Rontu as it became her companion in the island. I could come up with “readings and symbolism” for this, which my class would hopefully appreciate. The wild dogs, the Russians—all enemies to Karana—are also present in the life of today’s adolescents. No doubt about that.

The objectives of the block are: to awaken to the polarities of subject knowledge through both heart and will; to work with accurate observation, objectivity and detail; and to work with the discovery of assertion and a sense of place in the world. The elements of the novel especially point of view and setting as well as the traditions of realism should be focused on. O’Dell’s book actually fits this.

However, when we talk of ninth grade polarities, we mean that these students’ “inner soul forces” become extremely active. The students at this stage are “at the mercy of strong, uncontrolled feelings and emotions, which swing like a pendulum, from one extreme to the other…everything is black OR white, wonderful OR abysmal, joyful OR full of sorrow…”

Unfortunately, Karana’s character is far from being at polarities. She is very steady, her soliloquies are “quiet”, and her inner turmoil is a paradox: she is lonely at times but she resolves this; she fears her future but she trusts in it. In other words, Karana is perfect for being a very stable character.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles

You have probably read this novel before and you would perhaps agree with me that it is a masterpiece, indeed. It is a haunting tale of two friends—sixteen year old Gene and Phineas/Finny—both students at a boys’ boarding school in New England during the early years of World War II. These boys are complete opposites of each other: Gene, also the narrator, is “a lonely, introverted intellectual” while Finny is a “handsome, taunting, daredevil athlete”. Gene eloquently tells us the story of their friendship, especially about what transpired in school during summer. Although Gene treasures his friendship with Finny, he oscillates from affection for his best friend to envy and resentment of him. At one point, Gene feels that Finny intends to wreck his studies: “..sure, he wanted to share everything with me, especially his procession of D’s in every subject. That way he, the great athlete, would be way ahead of me. It was all cold trickery, it was all calculated, it was all enmity…” Gene believes Finny was jealous of his academic achievements. But then after Finny does something to prove this belief wrong, Gene thinks, “…my understanding [was] menaced. He had never been jealous of me for a second. Now I knew that there never was and never could have been any rivalry between us. I was not of the same quality as he…”

The scenes, the thoughts of Gene are quite extreme. He struggles to understand his friend, strives to figure out the truth of their actions. Then something happens that changes everything. Again, Gene is left thrashing in the pool of his emotions. He asks himself and the reader, was my action right or wrong? Was Finny just or not? Somewhere in the novel, we would find out that what Gene does causes Finny’s world to crumble into pieces which Gene himself would desperately try to pick up.
I loved this book for its quiet voice. It made me pause and ask questions. Does it meet the block objectives? Yes. Does it meet the class theme of polarities? Perfectly. Would my students like it and learn from it? Absolutely. It is also a plus that this is a classic, something that I want my class to begin the year with.

What’s stopping me from going for it then? Well, it could have a (it does, according to some scholars) homosexual reading. Is my class ready for this? I think so. As I’ve said, they’re a mature bunch. Then again, great literature is great precisely because its universality opens it up to various readings and critiques. One problem though, it costs 399 pesos J.

Luna by Julie Anne Peters

This award-winning book tells us the story of seventeen year-old Liam through the eyes of the narrator Regan, Liam’s sister. Liam struggles with his true identity: he’s an outstanding student, popular for his good looks and accomplishments and a good son. But Regan knows Liam’s secret: he is Luna, a beautiful girl, by night. Liam is a transgender. He believes and feels that he is really a girl—trapped in a boy’s body. Regan is the only one who knows this and accepts Liam unconditionally. This is really more Regan’s story than Liam/Luna’s, as she struggles to deal with the challenges of accepting and understanding her brother, which confuse and tear her apart in the process. It undeniably explores teenage sexuality issues without screaming it to your ear. More importantly, it shows us the realities of an adolescent: having imperfect parents, friends who reject them, a society that refuses to accept them for what they really are.

So again does Luna meet the objectives? Yes. Does it explore the theme of polarities? Yes…This novel is brilliant, beautiful and very, very true. My only apprehension is that it is considerably a contemporary work. I want the class to begin with a classic as much as possible. Also, the issues tackled in the novel might “upstage” its craftsmanship and style.

The Verdict

Karana’s a good choice. Luna will open new doors. Gene and Finny? I think these two boys will hit the target, right on the mark. A Separate Peace wins. I think studying this novel will be both an objective and meaningful experience for me and my class. Craft is evident, the author’s gift is clear. Though the two other novels also have these qualities, A Separate Peace has the depth, that subtle exploring of issues coupled with eloquence and beauty of the characters’ experiences.

I am not saying that this novel will be “loved” by the class. In the first place, it was set during the war, a period so remote to their world. But I look forward to the imminent debates and heated discussions if not to the gushing appreciation these kids usually have for novels they have really, really enjoyed. Choosing A Separate Peace also means I need to work much harder and study more. Well, bring it on. This process made me re-learn something very important: love what you do and it will love you back.

:)

Ah, poetry...

2006-05-04T20:45:00.000+08:00

In Mind

There's in my mind a woman
of innocence, unadorned but

fair-featured and smelling of
apples or grass. She wears

a utopian smock or shift, her hair
is light brown and smooth, and she

is kind and very clean without
ostentation-

but she has
no imagination

And there's a
turbulent moon-ridden girl

or old woman, or both,
dressed in opals and rags, feathers

and torn taffeta,
who knows strange songs

but she is not kind.

~ Denise Levertov

***

So which one am I? Those who know me woud point out to that turbulent moon-ridden girl or that old woman in rags, opals, feathers...in recognition.

***

This afternoon, P and I flew Eddy, our proud rainbow-colored kite that we got from Shopwise one crazy summer evening in April. It's both strange and funny how I got lula when I was flying Eddy. It was as if I were the kite itself, flying in the summer-sky and I could feel the height, my distance from the earth and I was scared I would fall.

P was amused but he watched on, perhaps thinking, how could my wife have an acrophobic attack when she's just standing on a football field, looking up, flying a kite?

Ah, each day is a discovery, my dear. We're nearing our first anniversary. There are more wonderings about ourselves yet to come and I hope you'll always be there with me at the football field, looking on, letting me be, as I struggle to stand still on the ground.

"Looking, Walking, Being"

2006-05-04T20:41:00.000+08:00

I look and look.
Looking's a way of being: one becomes,
sometimes, a pair of eyes walking.
Walking wherever looking takes one.

~Denise Levertov

Feter Fifer

2006-04-19T21:22:00.000+08:00

No, don't mind the title (as if this blog actually spews decent titles, decent entries). I just want to stop thinking about things. You got that? Does it make sense?

I am now having withdrawal symptoms from having Mama, Iya and my cousins Barry and Keng over for three days. I miss hearing them going about the house, especially Iya with her kulit "hiiiiiii" all the time. I miss having having Mama around, gave me a sense of---I dunno, security? warmth?

I said I wanted to get my mind off things.

I'm back to work tomorrow. Meeting in school and then that convention of Waldorf schools worldwide kicks off on Saturday. I'll be hauling my gorgeous ass (if my students chanced upon this blog, I'd have to explain that using the word ass was really necessary) to Manila for a week.

Gahd, I need to do something about my writing. I'm really going crazy. A secret: I have been keeping this longing to write fiction for quite some time now. Yep, I know my poetry is far far from being good enough, to think my poems are what have gotten me into workshops, fellowships, a teaching job, publications, affairs... But my heart is really longing to weave stories, prose...

Sana kayanin. I don't know what to do if I wouldn't be able to write again. Inasmuch as I love teaching and am really working on it as a career, writing is what I breathe for.

So help me God.

***

I have a list of topics to blog about. Can I just kill myself for simply not getting the job done?

I want to start over

2006-04-11T10:23:00.000+08:00

Ninang Grace was buried last Saturday. It was once again a heavy, heartbreaking moment for my family. I cried for everything and everyone she lived for. She was and will always be very, very dear to me despite all the imperfections of our lives. I just wish I had tried to spend as much time as I could with her especially when she was already in the ICU. I wish, though I know she has always known this, I told her I love her when I went to see her and prayed with her for the last time.

Have I thanked her enough? Only those close to me know the role Ninang played in my life. More than an aunt, she helped Mama in every possible way to raise me and my siblings. She helped Nanay and Tatay when her business started going up. She helped so many people in ways she knew best. As I was growing up, Ninang was always there, never letting go, despite our occasional spats and differences.

I promise that this will not be the first thing I’ll be writing for her. When you lose someone you love, you somehow feel you are inadequate to give back something to honor the person. But I will do it. Maybe it will not be enough, maybe I will not be enough to do it, but I want to let the world know the story that Ninang Grace once was.

***
And I said I want to start over, so last night after trying to come up with my own attempt at pasta pomodoro for P’s friends who came by unplanned, I began cleaning my study. I started with my desk, wiping out the dust, organizing my piles of books precariously perched one on top of another: a stack for references, for my summer reading (For the Love of Literature-a Waldorf book, Frank McCourt’s Teacher Man, Diana Evans’ 26A,Ian McEwan’s First Love, Last Rites, Jonathan Safran Foer’s Everything is Illuminated, Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian, Mr. Murakami’s A Wild Sheep Chase—surely, these would extend until the NEXT summer’s reading), another for “writing”, the piles go on and on. I am short of shelves already. Discovering Literature, Bulfinch’s Mythology, David Copperfield and The Best Philippine Short Stories almost broke my right toe. I better ask P to look for a good carpenter to make me more shelves.

Next in line will be my closet which is another disaster. I don’t want to procrastinate anymore (God help me) and waste precious time. I’m getting so good at it already it’s embarrassing.

After all these physical cleaning-ups I’ll make sure I’ll get to sort out the files in my head, too. And ok, add my heart in the cleaning up, too.

Peace my heart...

2006-04-06T20:13:00.000+08:00

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.Let it not be a death but completeness.Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence. I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

~Rabindranath Tagore

for Ninang Grace. With all my love and gratitude.
19 October 1956 - 03 April 2006

2006-03-31T23:31:00.000+08:00

At this point, all I need is inspiration. Like the proverbial candle, I am burned out with only the faint gray smoke trailing me. Soon, I will be lit again, I know. All the words, the stories, are just gathering up inside me.

*

Ang tamad-tamad ko. Kailangan ko pang gumawa ng grades at mga students’ evaluation reports pero `eto ako’t nag-ba-blog ng mga walang kuwentang bagay. Ano na nga ba ang pinaggagawa ko noong mga nakaraang araw? Wala ng klase. Tapos na ang pag-iintindi ng lesson plan araw-araw. Pero mukhang mas tambak pa ang trabaho ngayon kaysa noong may pasok pa. Tatlong sunud-sunod na linggo akong nasa beach (Punta Fuego, Subic, Punta Fuego) kasama si P at mga co-teachers (yikes, co-teachers. Sa kung anumang dahilan, kinikilabutan ako sa salitang iyan). Salamat sa mga Belmonte, siyempre. Tatlong linggo, pero kulang! O talaga sigurong ang sampung buwang pagtuturo ay sapat lang talaga. Kung lalampas pa ng ilang linggo’y, baka masiraan na ko ng bait (kung hindi pa man).

Ang baho kong magsulat sa Filipino. Nakakahiya.

Masaya nga pala `tong araw na ito. Nakakaaliw. Alas-9 ng gabi kanina’y nagpunta kami ni P sa Shopwise Libis. Wala, inaaliw niya lang ako. Ang saya sa Shopwise. Bumili ako ng bra at face powder. Oo sa Shopwise. At alas-nuwebe ng gabi. Muntik pa kaming bumili ng HP Inkjet printer kung alam lang sana nung salesgirl ang ginagawa niya. Oo, printer nga. Sa Shopwise. Alas-nuwebe ng gabi.

So...

2006-03-19T17:58:00.000+08:00

is this how my Sundays will be if I lost him?

I don't think I can bear it if it happened. Good thing he's just in Alaminos for a marine trip with the tenth graders in school.

Tomorrow, I'll be with my seventh and eighth graders in Tagaytay for an overnight camping.

This day without him in a beautifully empty house has left me numbed. We texted each other never again to be apart on Sundays. We live for it.

How apt

2006-02-27T11:25:00.000+08:00

...that the universe seems to know who and what are you, no matter how trite or crucial the circumstance you're in. I am the pilot. How true. How sad and beautiful all at the same time.

2006-02-27T11:23:00.000+08:00

You are the pilot.

Saint Exupery's 'The Little Prince' Quiz.
brought to you by

Sundays are what life's all about

2006-02-19T21:24:00.000+08:00

Someone found out about this blog. So much for keeping it a secret. He's bound to know, anyhow. Sharing the same PC is obviously the culprit :)

o0o

Watched the Ateneo-La Salle Men's Football championships. Great game. It was a tie, though. See you again La Sallians in Katipunan next week!

o0o

I'm scheduled to give a short workshop on (performance) poetry to my colleagues on Wednesday. Scary!!!

o0o

I've been on the hunt for good YA books to include in my eighth, ninth and eleventh-grades reading list for next year. I just finished "Prep" by Curtis Sittenfeld. It started quite promisingly but the plot dragged a bit. Still, I think my students would find it interesting so I'm tossing it in. Next in line is "the curious incident of the dog in the night-time" by Mark Haddon. The blurbs are terrific--even Arthur Golden and my favorite Myla Goldberg had good things to say about it. I'm starting it before I go to bed tonight.

o0o

I hope the stampede disaster wouldn't be just a piece of statistics in a few years' time. So many lives were lost needlessly. So many hearts broken just like that. ABS-CBN is a giant all right--a giant that has been trampling on people's lives all these years, yet I admire Mr. Gabby Lopez's sincerity and integrity in standing in the middle of this catastrope. I hope he really would stand firm in his words. And while he's at it, perhaps he could rethink how the station could actually serve its loyal fans--just the way it claims it does.

2006-02-03T20:33:00.000+08:00

It's Friday night and I vowed not to touch anything related to work. I told myself I'm just gonna relax and let time pass tonight. No worries about lesson plans, grades, reports. And that's excatly what I'm doing now.

But wait, let me just say something about work. I love it so much and I think it loves me back, because I see how I'm growing everyday because of what I do. My students affirm that. Of course there are bad days, sometimes they're often. Yet it is so fulfilling that I know I have really found my niche in this crazy universe. Teaching is one thing I will never give up. Cliche but true, it brings out the best in me, and I wish I were able to write down every thought that comes to me right when I'm experiencing it. The joys of it. The frustrations. Now let me digress and stick to tonight's plan.

So after Kulas picked me up from school, we decided that it's going to be chickenjoy for my dinner tonight since he had to go with mommy and papa to a wake. It turned out they couldn't go so Kulas and I headed to Katipunan and signed up at a video place and rented a couple of titles. We walked to Starbucks after.

It was nice. Walking with him, coffee in hand, amidst the din of college kids. Across us, somebody was flying a kite at the Ateneo football field. We remembered how much we loved flying a kite together. We'll do it again soon.

Watched Under the Tuscan Sun. And because I'm lazy, I won't write down my thoughts about the film except for it made me happy and hopeful and trusting...

Kulas and I have been married for eight months now. Can you believe that? It hasn't been rosy. We're still adjusting. We've found ourselves on the edge and I'm glad we're still here...

2006-02-03T20:31:00.000+08:00

Under the Tuscan Sun

Ad Infinitum

2006-01-25T19:30:00.000+08:00

Her eyes are sad black pools, not murky, just plain black--dark and still. When she closes them, the water ripples and creates circles within smaller ones. Someday, she'll never have to open them again. Ever.

o0o

How open should a person be to his/her partner? What are the limits? When would you say he/she's lying? Does keeping things unknown to you constitute dishonesty?

Most people would say "no, I'm not lying, I'm just not telling you" or what you don't know won't hurt you. What's the deal? It's plain and simple, for me, that is. When you're found, get out. If you refuse to do so, needless to say, that qualifies as hiding, right?

When two people commit their lives to each other, that would involve merging of two different worlds. There are the respective spaces you both have to keep. Never lose your center, that I believe in. But when one is alienated already from the other's "own" space, I would start believing keeping your center isn't really worth it.

Nonsense? Perhaps.

I just hate lies. And secrets. I will never be able to tolerate deceit--no matter how rosy you put it.

o0o

Maybe because I have experienced deceit in such an early age is the reason why I value openness and transparency so much. But after 27 years, it's still too elusive...

Some things don't really change, or do they?

2006-01-23T18:33:00.000+08:00

Exactly two years ago, I wrote:

from the mouth of my babe

he said what i need is diligence. my laziness,according to him, is detrimental to any literary visions i have of myself. i just have to write, write,write, he said. if that's the way i want to live my life, i might as well die writing. and to do so, i must get on with it.

come to think of it, this has always been my problem. i have always been a butterfly when it comes to projects. i work hard,set my heart on things, get my heart broken and move on. as with my life, my relationships,my dreams and fears, i flutter, fly, thrive on whatever's good (even the bad) and move on. and so, i look for more.

i envy naya. first, because i really like and admire her poetry. her metaphors range from the most common to the amazingly profound. her language mesmerizes me,too. i know for certain that when i read a poem of hers without her by-line, i would recognize that voice, resonating on the page,reaching my mind. and second, just like her, i wish i were teaching again.

i am writing this with a sigh.

and of course, there's ian whose works i would always read for sheer pleasure and to simply marvel at his craft. his fiction is comforting no matter what his subject is. there is,in his words, a quiet spectacle that unfolds before my eyes but it is always something calm and fluid that i allow myself to flow along his plots, his characters, his images. i specially love ian's stories on afternoons when my own despair to create swallows me whole like a dragon's open mouth...

then there's pam. this girl simply amazes me.

and dinah? this woman has the most beautiful words and an equally beautiful mind.

there are other things to do and enjoy aside from writing. i love, i am loved, i laugh at myself, cry,weep, eat anything, hug people---there are a million other beautiful things i could make myself do.

but writing eludes me. and i was born to chase anything that runs away from me. chase it, grip its neck, shake it and when everything's done and still nothing else happens, i let it go.

i know when to admit defeat.

o0o

These are still my sentiments except that two years ago, I was agonizing about my job. Now, I am a number of notches higher in my dreams list--I'm teaching now and loving it. However, I'm still in square one, or shall we say, zero, when it comes to my writing.

Why can't I just do it?

Stop deluding yourself, Tin: this should probably be my mantra now but hey, life's too short. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Ride with me, will ya?

00o

How do I make Holden Caulfield interesting to my already disinterested Class 10 students??? Sometimes I just want to give up on them, telling myself, no, it's not my fault they're too out-of-synch in class. I could blame them. Then again, who am I kidding? It's my job to hold their attention once I stand in front of them. It's my job to care whethet they get what themes really mean in literature. It's my job to bring it out of them. The thing is, it's so damn hard...

It's so easy not to care. Sometimes when I'm this exhausted, I wish I really don't care at all.

Love at First Sight

2006-01-23T17:49:00.000+08:00

Both are convinced
that a sudden surge of emotion bound them together.
Beautiful is such a certainty,
but uncertainty is more beautiful.

Because they didn't know each other earlier, they suppose that
nothing was happening between them.
What of the streets, stairways and corridors
where they could have passed each other long ago?

I'd like to ask them
whether they remember-- perhaps in a revolving door
ever being face to face?
an "excuse me" in a crowd
or a voice "wrong number" in the receiver.
But I know their answer:
no, they don't remember.

They'd be greatly astonished
to learn that for a long time
chance had been playing with them.

Not yet wholly ready
to transform into fate for them
it approached them, then backed off, stood in their way
and, suppressing a giggle,
jumped to the side.

There were signs, signals:
but what of it if they were illegible.
Perhaps three years ago,
or last Tuesday
did a certain leaflet fly
from shoulder to shoulder?
There was something lost and picked up.
Who knows but what it was a ball
in the bushes of childhood.

There were doorknobs and bells
on which earlier
touch piled on touch.
Bags beside each other in the luggage room.

Perhaps they had the same dream on a certain night,
suddenly erased after waking.

Every beginning
is but a continuation,
and the book of events
is never more than half open.

-(Wislawa Szymborska, translated by Walter Whipple )

o0o

Beautiful, isn't it?

2006-01-23T17:48:00.000+08:00

Lazy-assed

2006-01-22T19:00:00.000+08:00

I'm too lazy to post anything decent now. I watched Manny Pacquiao's match with Erik Morales while Kulas is out, firing with his friends at the range. I'm supposed to be preparing for school now but, hey you guessed it right, I'm here blogging instead.

We watched "Little Manhattan" last night. Simple, nice and nostalgic. We never forget our "first loves", that's what Gabe said at the end of the movie. Do you agree?

Tomorrow, my class and I will be selling the corn we biodynamically planted and harvested. I'm going to tell them about "Prep" by Curtis Sittenfeld, which I bought last night at Fully Booked Gateway, which incidentally is the farthest I could haul my lazy ass to these days--aside from home and school.

Next week is the start of my Geography block, focusing on Africa and China. Oh and with some basics on Meteorology, too. Can you believe that? Me, teaching geography...amazing.

Of course I'm damn nervous about it. It's not something I know very well. But as Steiner puts it, it's in the striving that a teacher gets it better--or something like that.

I miss shopping. I miss being "shallow"--you know what I mean?

Well, this post has been peppered with questions to be answered by nobody. If people are bound to find out about this blog, they simply will.

So much for random thoughts. Must prepare dinner soon. Meanwhile, let me leave you with this:

"..so tired of the straight life
and eveywhere you turn
there's vultures and thieves at your back..."

Been singing these lines lately. So you, watch out and look behind your back.

It's on days like this...

2006-01-15T10:45:00.000+08:00

...when I just feel so lucky I'm alive feeling all I'm feeling, just being me.

It's a beautiful Sunday morning; windy, sunny and quiet. Kulas and I had a breakfast of bacon, salmon, eggs, toast, jam and butter. After that I started popping CDs on the player, one after the other, singing to it while I was washing the dishes and Kulas was reading the paper. I made coffee and for the first time in our married life, he had coffee with him. It's so nice to share my morning coffee pala with him. We danced to Luis Miguel's version of Sabor a Mi after...

I'm blogging here at the study and it's so nice--the kaimito tree swaying outside, I could hear the chimes in the dining room...

I've got to work. I have a crazy day tomorrow in school. But first I want to take note of what I want to blog about soon:

1. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (the movie)
2. The Family Stone
3. Kulas' upcoming birthday.

So far, I'm enjoying my stay here in this blog. I like the quiet.

Because It's Worth Detoxing

2005-12-29T21:15:00.000+08:00

...or at least, I think it is.

Let this be the start of something real. Two days before the new year, these are some of the really great things I am grateful for:

1) My family, my anchor.

2) My dearest sister's almost a month pregnant. I am so so happy and excited.

3) My sister's home from Singapore for the holidays. She and my mom had just spent a couple of days here at home and I already miss them.

4) I have a career which I am nurturing and which nurtures me back.

5) I have a husband whom I love and who loves me back.

6) I have great friends.

7) I have dreams. I have fears.

8) Thank you's, I'm sorry's and I love you's.

9) Love. And all its fucked-up versions.

10) My faith, my hopes, my loves.

Here's to a round of detoxing. Sit back and start the rant.