I woke up at three in the afternoon.
I was nursing a slight headache. I wouldn't categorize it as exactly a hangover, but it's the closest thing I could get to one. After all, I only had one bottle of beer. Which is all I can take because I'm allergic to alcohol.
It was my first day back in Cebu, my favorite city. I love this place. Our family has lived a somewhat nomadic lifestyle because we moved around quite a bit. In fact, right now, we're "geographically distributed". I'm here in Western Visayas, my dad's in Central Luzon, My mom's in Northern Mindanao, my sister's in the National Capital Region and my brother's in Misamis Oriental (I forgot the regional name of this one ;).
Of all the places I've stayed in, Cebu is special to me. Because it's well-developed, but it's not as crazy as Manila. It's not as crowded and it's not as polluted. Everything is so accessible - the pier, the airport, the mall, the schools, and even the resorts. There are tiny little details about the place that makes it unique. But I guess its people also contribute to this because generally Cebuanos are cool.
My friends, for example, are great people. They may be a little crazy sometimes, but I think that adds to their charms. Yesterday, for example, the reason we went out is because Abad (we all call her by her family name) had a sudden urge to sing "Eye of the Tiger" in karaoke.
After they sang to their hearts' content, we went to Dunkin' Donuts and talked about a lot of things over coffee and hot chocolate until sunrise. And these people can talk about anything. And I mean, anything. Books, movies, television, celebrities, careers - anything. I remember that the conversation even veered towards sexually transmitted diseases. How it got to that I couldn't quite exactly recall.
It was half past five in the morning when we all decided to go home. They all walked me to my building which was just a few blocks away. It was nice - strolling along Osmeña Boulevard, laughing together about shallow things, while the sun makes it slow appearance.
I didn't get to sleep right away when I got home. My allergy was starting to act up and my itchy skin was somewhat uncomfortable. But I've had worse attacks than that one. I watched some TV before dozing off.
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Friday, May 28, 2004
"She packed my bags last night..."
Bakit puro black ang gamit mo?! Yung bag mo, yung sapatos mo, yung jacket mo, yung isa mo pang bag, pantalon mo, pati t-shirt mo! Bakit itim lahat yan?!
Nanay ko. Bahagyang nanggagalaiti. Pinupuna color perception/fashion sense ko.
Linawin ko lang sandali. Dark blue ang t-shirt ko, hindi itim. Ang pantalon ko, kahit itim nang una kong binili, ay kupas na ngayon. Kaya grayish na sya.
Balikan natin ang nanay ko. Ganito talaga tuwing nagiimpake ako.
Ano ba yang t-shirt na yan? Dadalhin mo pa ba yan? Eh yung binili ko sayo na skirt and blouse, di mo dadalhin? Hindi mo siguro ginagamit ang mga yun doon, ano? Magsuot ka naman ng mga may kulay paminsan-minsan.
Dark blue ang favorite color ko. Pero marami akong gamit na kulay itim. Maliban sa in-enumerate ng nanay ko, itim rin lahat ng pens ko, mga diskettes ko, mga pantali ko sa buhok, sinturon ko, at kung ano-ano pa.
Gusto ko ang black kasi hindi agaw-pansin. Tsaka di sya nagiging corny o baduy. Natatandaan nyo pa ba nung na-uso ang neon colors? Nakakapangilabot. Buti na lang kanyo at hindi neon ang naging paborito ko. Kung nagkataon, edi mukha akong walking highligter ngayon.
Aalis na nga pala ako mamaya. Goodbye to the comfort of one's own home. Hello again to overrated independent living. Yung mga di pa mulat sa hubad na katotohanan, iniisip siguro nila na napaka-cool to live on your own without parents to breathe down your back. To a certain extent, totoo yun. Ikaw ang boss. Master of your fate, captain of your soul. Masaya kasi diskarte mo lahat. Nasa sayo kung saan ka pupunta, kung kailan ka uuwi, at kung sino kasama mo. Depende na lang sayo yun at sa upbringing and convictions mo (naks!).
Pero, ikaw rin bahala sa lahat. Budget ng pera, hanap ka kung saan ka kakain, mag-aayos ng damit mo, maglilinis ng kwarto, tapos syempre mag-aaral ka pa. Pero ang pinakamahirap kapag nagkakasakit ka. Walang mag-aalaga sayo. Kawawa kang bata ka.
Try mong trangkasuhin ng linggo. Kahit groggy, bili ka gamot sa botika. Absent ka sa lunes. Pero pasok ka sa martes na parang zombie. Try mo. Ang saya. Promise.
Anyway, sign off na ako. Kelangan ko pang i-double check things ko. Sigurado namang may kakalimutan ako, susubukan ko lang to put those at a minimum. Sana di toothbrush maiwan ko.
Nanay ko. Bahagyang nanggagalaiti. Pinupuna color perception/fashion sense ko.
Linawin ko lang sandali. Dark blue ang t-shirt ko, hindi itim. Ang pantalon ko, kahit itim nang una kong binili, ay kupas na ngayon. Kaya grayish na sya.
Balikan natin ang nanay ko. Ganito talaga tuwing nagiimpake ako.
Ano ba yang t-shirt na yan? Dadalhin mo pa ba yan? Eh yung binili ko sayo na skirt and blouse, di mo dadalhin? Hindi mo siguro ginagamit ang mga yun doon, ano? Magsuot ka naman ng mga may kulay paminsan-minsan.
Dark blue ang favorite color ko. Pero marami akong gamit na kulay itim. Maliban sa in-enumerate ng nanay ko, itim rin lahat ng pens ko, mga diskettes ko, mga pantali ko sa buhok, sinturon ko, at kung ano-ano pa.
Gusto ko ang black kasi hindi agaw-pansin. Tsaka di sya nagiging corny o baduy. Natatandaan nyo pa ba nung na-uso ang neon colors? Nakakapangilabot. Buti na lang kanyo at hindi neon ang naging paborito ko. Kung nagkataon, edi mukha akong walking highligter ngayon.
Aalis na nga pala ako mamaya. Goodbye to the comfort of one's own home. Hello again to overrated independent living. Yung mga di pa mulat sa hubad na katotohanan, iniisip siguro nila na napaka-cool to live on your own without parents to breathe down your back. To a certain extent, totoo yun. Ikaw ang boss. Master of your fate, captain of your soul. Masaya kasi diskarte mo lahat. Nasa sayo kung saan ka pupunta, kung kailan ka uuwi, at kung sino kasama mo. Depende na lang sayo yun at sa upbringing and convictions mo (naks!).
Pero, ikaw rin bahala sa lahat. Budget ng pera, hanap ka kung saan ka kakain, mag-aayos ng damit mo, maglilinis ng kwarto, tapos syempre mag-aaral ka pa. Pero ang pinakamahirap kapag nagkakasakit ka. Walang mag-aalaga sayo. Kawawa kang bata ka.
Try mong trangkasuhin ng linggo. Kahit groggy, bili ka gamot sa botika. Absent ka sa lunes. Pero pasok ka sa martes na parang zombie. Try mo. Ang saya. Promise.
Anyway, sign off na ako. Kelangan ko pang i-double check things ko. Sigurado namang may kakalimutan ako, susubukan ko lang to put those at a minimum. Sana di toothbrush maiwan ko.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
The Chicken Curry Incident
If Guns n' Roses had an album named The Spaghetti Incident -- this, my friends, is an entry about the Chicken Curry Incident.
It all started with a good intention.
I'm leaving tomorrow and I thought I'd give my mom a break and be the one to cook lunch. I usually just help with the dishes and steer clear from anything that involves open flame and sharp objects. I followed her instructions, but insisted that I needed no supervision. (Yaahh-bang!)
Okay, kids, don't try this at home. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
What you need for this recipe: (Sorry I don't do measurements. Measuring are for wimps and not for lazy people like me. Hehe.)
1) chicken (duh.)
2) curry powder (double duh.)
3) garlic
4) onions
5) bell pepper
6) potatoes
7) carrots
8) salt
9) pepper
10) milk (coconut milk, preferably)
11) cooking oil
... and!
12) reliable attention span. (You'll NEED this. Trust me on this one.)
Here's what you need to do:
Fry the chicken in oil. Not extra-crispy frying. Just let it brown a little. Set that aside. And then, fry the potatoes and the carrots. Set those aside with the chicken, too. Now, saute the garlic and onions. Dump in the chicken and vegetables. Sprinkle it with the curry powder, salt, and pepper. Put in the bell peppers. Mix it all well. Put in a little water and then the milk. Cover the pan and let the whole thing simmer in low heat.
Easy, huh?
I did all those with veeery little trouble. Sure, there was the occasional altercations with the splash of hot oil while frying or the sporadic dropping of utensils. But other than that, I did fine. In fact, I thought I did a helluva job.
I was so damn cool about the whole cooking thing that I turned on my computer and started surfing a bit. I dropped by my favorite sites, most of which are fellow bloggers'. One of the blogs featured the Goo Goo Dolls' song, "Here is Gone". And I remembered how I really liked the song. I had a hard disk drive crash a few months ago and lost all my old MP3's, including the Goo Goo Dolls' songs. So I downloaded "Here is Gone", and the other old ones like "Name", "Slide", "Iris", and the Rzeznik solo, "I'm Still Here".
After that, I logged on to my instant messaging services. I lurked to find out on who's online and checked my emails. Grrr. I hate spam. I hate chain mails. I hate emails with subjects that contain the words: "enlarge", "live video", and "XXX".
Delete All. Confirm? Hell, yes!
So there I was, idling in front of my computer for almost an hour when all of a sudden, something hit me. No, an anvil didn't fall on my head. I mean, a surge of alarm shot through me and I immediately sat straight up. I know it's so prosaic, but it's like there were warning bells inside my head but I had no idea what they were for.
Looking back, I must've looked stupid while I stared blankly ahead and tried to remember what I missed. Processing... processing... processing... processing...
Oh. My. God.
The pan was still on the stove!
I could've given The Flash a run for his money the way I ran. When I got to the stove, there was no flame, but the knob was still turned on. When I opened the pan's cover, the sauce was entirely evaporated, but thank goodness, nothing was charred. I guess the low flame was put out by some lucky wind, just in time.
Whew.
An hour. I actually left the whole thing for an hour. (Why am I sensing that motherhood is not something meant for me?)
I told you. You need to have a reliable attention span. Well, better than mine, needless to say. Anyway, the end product was drier than the desired texture. But, hey, I'd rather choose that over charcoal. What started with a good intention almost ended up being burnt beyond recognition.
I'm Lia, Queen of the Klutz, and I survived cooking lunch.
It all started with a good intention.
I'm leaving tomorrow and I thought I'd give my mom a break and be the one to cook lunch. I usually just help with the dishes and steer clear from anything that involves open flame and sharp objects. I followed her instructions, but insisted that I needed no supervision. (Yaahh-bang!)
Okay, kids, don't try this at home. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
What you need for this recipe: (Sorry I don't do measurements. Measuring are for wimps and not for lazy people like me. Hehe.)
1) chicken (duh.)
2) curry powder (double duh.)
3) garlic
4) onions
5) bell pepper
6) potatoes
7) carrots
8) salt
9) pepper
10) milk (coconut milk, preferably)
11) cooking oil
... and!
12) reliable attention span. (You'll NEED this. Trust me on this one.)
Here's what you need to do:
Fry the chicken in oil. Not extra-crispy frying. Just let it brown a little. Set that aside. And then, fry the potatoes and the carrots. Set those aside with the chicken, too. Now, saute the garlic and onions. Dump in the chicken and vegetables. Sprinkle it with the curry powder, salt, and pepper. Put in the bell peppers. Mix it all well. Put in a little water and then the milk. Cover the pan and let the whole thing simmer in low heat.
Easy, huh?
I did all those with veeery little trouble. Sure, there was the occasional altercations with the splash of hot oil while frying or the sporadic dropping of utensils. But other than that, I did fine. In fact, I thought I did a helluva job.
I was so damn cool about the whole cooking thing that I turned on my computer and started surfing a bit. I dropped by my favorite sites, most of which are fellow bloggers'. One of the blogs featured the Goo Goo Dolls' song, "Here is Gone". And I remembered how I really liked the song. I had a hard disk drive crash a few months ago and lost all my old MP3's, including the Goo Goo Dolls' songs. So I downloaded "Here is Gone", and the other old ones like "Name", "Slide", "Iris", and the Rzeznik solo, "I'm Still Here".
After that, I logged on to my instant messaging services. I lurked to find out on who's online and checked my emails. Grrr. I hate spam. I hate chain mails. I hate emails with subjects that contain the words: "enlarge", "live video", and "XXX".
Delete All. Confirm? Hell, yes!
So there I was, idling in front of my computer for almost an hour when all of a sudden, something hit me. No, an anvil didn't fall on my head. I mean, a surge of alarm shot through me and I immediately sat straight up. I know it's so prosaic, but it's like there were warning bells inside my head but I had no idea what they were for.
Looking back, I must've looked stupid while I stared blankly ahead and tried to remember what I missed. Processing... processing... processing... processing...
Oh. My. God.
The pan was still on the stove!
I could've given The Flash a run for his money the way I ran. When I got to the stove, there was no flame, but the knob was still turned on. When I opened the pan's cover, the sauce was entirely evaporated, but thank goodness, nothing was charred. I guess the low flame was put out by some lucky wind, just in time.
Whew.
An hour. I actually left the whole thing for an hour. (Why am I sensing that motherhood is not something meant for me?)
I told you. You need to have a reliable attention span. Well, better than mine, needless to say. Anyway, the end product was drier than the desired texture. But, hey, I'd rather choose that over charcoal. What started with a good intention almost ended up being burnt beyond recognition.
I'm Lia, Queen of the Klutz, and I survived cooking lunch.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Snooze button not applicable here
Nagising ako kaninang umaga sa pagkalakas-lakas na pagkanta ng "You Light Up My Life". Pwera biro. Version ng nag-eensayong Christian choir member sa katabing building ng inuupahan naming apartment. Sobrang lakas ng mikropono niya. Alas diyes na ng umaga kaya hindi mo namang masasabi na nambubulabog sya ng tulog. Alangan namang isigaw ko pa na, "Hoy! Alas kuwatro y media na ako natulog! Inaantok pa ako!" Mahaba-habang paliwanag naman iyon na mahirap nang isigaw pa lahat.
Isa pa, nang nagkalaon, napansin ko namang magaling ang pagkakanta niya. Maganda ang boses at kuhang-kuha ang tono.
Nanay ko naman, himbing na himbing ang tulog habang todo bigay sa pagbirit yung babae. Kasi kung ako, 4.30 na nang natulog, siya naman, alas sais na. (Wala po kaming lahing aswang, FYI lang.) So ang naging alarm clock ko kanina ay ang makabagbag-damdaming lyrics ng 70's na kantang ito.
You light up my life
You give me hope
To carry on
You light up my days
and fill my nights with song
Ewan ko lang kung tungkol pa rin kay Kristo ang awitin nya. Pwede naman kasing i-interpret ang "You Light Up My Life" as either romantic love or love for God. Tulad ng kanta ni Gary V na "Gaya ng Dati" (Maliban na lang dun sa linya ng "Panginoon, ako’y nabulag ng mandarayang mundo, ako ay patawarin Mo..." na malinaw naman ang ibig sabihin). May kanta rin ang Jars of Clay na ang chorus ay "I want to fall in love with you..." Kung yun lang ang pakikinggan mo, di mo talaga aakalain na para kay Jesus pala ang kantang yun. Pero kung alam mo yung title, halata na. ("Love Song for a Savior".)
Astig ang performance ni kapitbahay. Pang Star in a Million. Kahit si Fritz Ynfante walang masasabi. Kaya nga lang, malakas. Nagising ako. At dahil dun, hindi ko siya hihikayatin mag-audition. Bumangon na lang ako at inumpisahan na ang hundred little chores na kailangan sa household maintenance. (kung sa Starcraft pa, ako yung lowly SCV, "reporting for duty, Sir!")
Maiba ako ng kwento (kaya nga digressions, eh). Habang nanananghalian kami kanina, sabi ng nanay ko, may sasabihin daw sya sa akin. Akala ko kung ano na. Yun pala, nung madaling araw at mag-isa na lang daw syang gising at nagpapaantok, may humila-hila daw sa dalawa nyang daliri sa paa - yung katabi ng thumb at index digits.
Natawa ako. Sabi ko baka nananaginip lang sya. Pero hindi daw talaga at gising na gising pa ang kanyang diwa. Baka 'ka ko, imagination nya lang yun dahil sa pagkakulang ng tulog. Pero sigurado daw talaga sya. Ang paniwala nya, baka daw nagparamdam ang lola ko dahil sa lunes na ang death anniversary nito.
Tumahimik na lang ako. Magtakutan ba kami sa hapag kainan?! Parang di yata angkop yun. Besides, maghuhugas pa ako ng plato. At hulaan nyo kung ano ang last song syndrome ko na naging soundtrack ng dishwasher scene ko ngayong araw? Galing. "You Light Up My Life" nga. Very bright students. Class dismissed.
Isa pa, nang nagkalaon, napansin ko namang magaling ang pagkakanta niya. Maganda ang boses at kuhang-kuha ang tono.
Nanay ko naman, himbing na himbing ang tulog habang todo bigay sa pagbirit yung babae. Kasi kung ako, 4.30 na nang natulog, siya naman, alas sais na. (Wala po kaming lahing aswang, FYI lang.) So ang naging alarm clock ko kanina ay ang makabagbag-damdaming lyrics ng 70's na kantang ito.
You light up my life
You give me hope
To carry on
You light up my days
and fill my nights with song
Ewan ko lang kung tungkol pa rin kay Kristo ang awitin nya. Pwede naman kasing i-interpret ang "You Light Up My Life" as either romantic love or love for God. Tulad ng kanta ni Gary V na "Gaya ng Dati" (Maliban na lang dun sa linya ng "Panginoon, ako’y nabulag ng mandarayang mundo, ako ay patawarin Mo..." na malinaw naman ang ibig sabihin). May kanta rin ang Jars of Clay na ang chorus ay "I want to fall in love with you..." Kung yun lang ang pakikinggan mo, di mo talaga aakalain na para kay Jesus pala ang kantang yun. Pero kung alam mo yung title, halata na. ("Love Song for a Savior".)
Astig ang performance ni kapitbahay. Pang Star in a Million. Kahit si Fritz Ynfante walang masasabi. Kaya nga lang, malakas. Nagising ako. At dahil dun, hindi ko siya hihikayatin mag-audition. Bumangon na lang ako at inumpisahan na ang hundred little chores na kailangan sa household maintenance. (kung sa Starcraft pa, ako yung lowly SCV, "reporting for duty, Sir!")
Maiba ako ng kwento (kaya nga digressions, eh). Habang nanananghalian kami kanina, sabi ng nanay ko, may sasabihin daw sya sa akin. Akala ko kung ano na. Yun pala, nung madaling araw at mag-isa na lang daw syang gising at nagpapaantok, may humila-hila daw sa dalawa nyang daliri sa paa - yung katabi ng thumb at index digits.
Natawa ako. Sabi ko baka nananaginip lang sya. Pero hindi daw talaga at gising na gising pa ang kanyang diwa. Baka 'ka ko, imagination nya lang yun dahil sa pagkakulang ng tulog. Pero sigurado daw talaga sya. Ang paniwala nya, baka daw nagparamdam ang lola ko dahil sa lunes na ang death anniversary nito.
Tumahimik na lang ako. Magtakutan ba kami sa hapag kainan?! Parang di yata angkop yun. Besides, maghuhugas pa ako ng plato. At hulaan nyo kung ano ang last song syndrome ko na naging soundtrack ng dishwasher scene ko ngayong araw? Galing. "You Light Up My Life" nga. Very bright students. Class dismissed.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
People Repellant
The few times I venture out into the world where I am required to actually interact with people, it takes me a second or two before I convince myself that I don't have a sign on my forehead that says, "Keep Away."
I was queuing at the ATM machine the other day. A middle-aged woman fell in line after me. She kinda reminded me of my Aralin Panlipunan teacher back in my sophomore year of high school. There was nothing noteworthy about her except for the way she looked at me. The moment she arrived, from my peripheral vision, I could see her closely observing me (in my opinion, somewhat disapprovingly, too) from head to toe with knotted eyebrows. I glanced down at my clothes and discreetly checked whether I had anything on my hair or face. I'm not a punk, ok? Granted, I'm not angelic either (not by a long mile) but I thought I looked decent enough to suppress any form of suspicion.
While the queue progressed, the lady after me, Mrs. Oracion (I decided to name her after my high school teacher for the time being), slowly inched her way to stand closer to me. I was tempted to say, "You're encroaching into my interpersonal space, Ma'am. The average ideal distance is around 18 inches, but in my case, it's waaay farther than that." But of course, I didn't say that. I contented myself with leaning forward against the railing. When I was already the next one to use the machine, Mrs. Oracion hesistantly tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I could help her out with her ATM transaction because she left her eyeglasses and couldn't see quite well without them. I nodded and weakly smiled at her (These obligatory smiles of mine is a whole different story altogether.)
Anyway, I then figured out that the weird looks and invasive proximity were just all about asking me for help. Why couldn't she have said that right away? She could've spare me from the paranoid thoughts in my crazy head. So while queue_item_1 to queue_item_n-1 sequentially dequeued, she was sizing me up whether or not I was amiable enough to ask assistance from. When queue_item_n-1 exited from the booth, I politely told Mrs. Oracion, "Ma'am, mauna na po kayo sa akin. Pagkatapos ko kayo tulungan saka na lang ako susunod." (I forgot to translate myself in Visayan at the time, but instead addressed her in my default Tagalog tongue). She gave me her PIN, and at her instructions, I transacted a balance inquiry and a P3000 withdrawal for her. She profusely thanked me afterwards.
This incident is the reason why I was thinking about whether I have some unknown repelling pheromone. This is not an isolated incident, mind you. It happens to me all the time. My friendster testimonials say a lot about how I come off as a stuck-up, snobbish jerk to most people who meet me for the first time. And for good reason, too, I must admit.
True, I don't like to be around a lot of people. I'm not shy, though. I'm just easily annoyed. By the noise. By the inanities. I don't have the patience. I'm not one of those sunshiny people who greets everyone with a beaming smile. I'm not that way. I don't mind being alone. In fact, sometimes I prefer to be alone. But if one gets to know me long enough to let the ice melt and the wall to break down, I'm actually pretty nice. Ask Mrs. Oracion. The ATM lady, not my high school teacher. Aralin Panlipunan was never one of the strongest subject.
(Pardon the occasional geek jargon. But I think it's pretty understandable by context.)
I was queuing at the ATM machine the other day. A middle-aged woman fell in line after me. She kinda reminded me of my Aralin Panlipunan teacher back in my sophomore year of high school. There was nothing noteworthy about her except for the way she looked at me. The moment she arrived, from my peripheral vision, I could see her closely observing me (in my opinion, somewhat disapprovingly, too) from head to toe with knotted eyebrows. I glanced down at my clothes and discreetly checked whether I had anything on my hair or face. I'm not a punk, ok? Granted, I'm not angelic either (not by a long mile) but I thought I looked decent enough to suppress any form of suspicion.
While the queue progressed, the lady after me, Mrs. Oracion (I decided to name her after my high school teacher for the time being), slowly inched her way to stand closer to me. I was tempted to say, "You're encroaching into my interpersonal space, Ma'am. The average ideal distance is around 18 inches, but in my case, it's waaay farther than that." But of course, I didn't say that. I contented myself with leaning forward against the railing. When I was already the next one to use the machine, Mrs. Oracion hesistantly tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I could help her out with her ATM transaction because she left her eyeglasses and couldn't see quite well without them. I nodded and weakly smiled at her (These obligatory smiles of mine is a whole different story altogether.)
Anyway, I then figured out that the weird looks and invasive proximity were just all about asking me for help. Why couldn't she have said that right away? She could've spare me from the paranoid thoughts in my crazy head. So while queue_item_1 to queue_item_n-1 sequentially dequeued, she was sizing me up whether or not I was amiable enough to ask assistance from. When queue_item_n-1 exited from the booth, I politely told Mrs. Oracion, "Ma'am, mauna na po kayo sa akin. Pagkatapos ko kayo tulungan saka na lang ako susunod." (I forgot to translate myself in Visayan at the time, but instead addressed her in my default Tagalog tongue). She gave me her PIN, and at her instructions, I transacted a balance inquiry and a P3000 withdrawal for her. She profusely thanked me afterwards.
This incident is the reason why I was thinking about whether I have some unknown repelling pheromone. This is not an isolated incident, mind you. It happens to me all the time. My friendster testimonials say a lot about how I come off as a stuck-up, snobbish jerk to most people who meet me for the first time. And for good reason, too, I must admit.
True, I don't like to be around a lot of people. I'm not shy, though. I'm just easily annoyed. By the noise. By the inanities. I don't have the patience. I'm not one of those sunshiny people who greets everyone with a beaming smile. I'm not that way. I don't mind being alone. In fact, sometimes I prefer to be alone. But if one gets to know me long enough to let the ice melt and the wall to break down, I'm actually pretty nice. Ask Mrs. Oracion. The ATM lady, not my high school teacher. Aralin Panlipunan was never one of the strongest subject.
(Pardon the occasional geek jargon. But I think it's pretty understandable by context.)
Monday, May 17, 2004
I was floored.
Minsan, iniisip ko kung bakit may mga habits ako na masasabing weird ng ibang tao. Pero kapag natatandaan ko ang mga quirks ng nanay ko tulad nang inutusan niya ako na magscrub ng sahig ng alas onse y media kagabi, hindi na ako nagtataka. Gising pa nga naman kami dalawa at medyo maputik ang sahig kasi maulan buong araw. Natural nga naman na linisin ito. Maghahatinggabi nga lang. Tutal, wala naman daw akong ginagawang produktibo. (In my own defense, may ginagawa naman ako ng oras na yun. Nagda-download ako ng mga kanta at lyrics ng Three Doors Down at Jars of Clay - na ngayon ko lang nadiskubre na marami palang magagandang kanta maliban sa alam ko na.)
Anyway, sa madaling salita, sa kalaliman ng gabi, I was down on all fours, scrubbing the floor. Scouring pad ang sandata ko. Zonrox, sabon, at tubig ang bala ko. Natuyong putik na nanuot sa pagitan ng tiles ang kalaban ko. (Hindi talaga binitiwan ang analogy, eh, noh?! Hehe.)
Di naman kasindak-sindak na naglilinis ako ng sahig. Sa katunayan, kaming magkakapatid ay hindi estranghero sa gawaing-bahay. May mga panahon naman na may kasama kami sa bahay para tumulong sa trabaho, pero kadalasan kami-kami lang talaga ang gumagalaw. Kaya nung nag-college na ako at may nakakasama ng roommates sa boarding house, napupuna ko talaga kung sino ang mga marunong magtrabaho at sino yung mga señorita sa bahay nila.
Ngayong bakasyon na ako lang ang bum sa bahay at nagtratrabaho na ang mga kapatid ko, wala akong kahati sa mga utos. Alam ng mga kaibigan ko yan. (Online ko lang sila nakakasalimuha ngayong summer dahil wala ngang pasok). Tuwing bumabalik ako galing sa isang BRB na message, natatanungan agad ako ng: "Are you done watering the plants already?" O di naman kaya pag sinasabi ko na kailangan ko munang mag-log-out, sinasabihan ako ng: "Tama, maghahapunan na nga pala, maghain ka na tapos maghuhugas ka pa ng pinggan."
Natatawa na lang ako minsan. Kaya nga habang ikinukuskos ko ang sahig ng sabon, iniisip ko kung ilan kaya sa mga kakilala ko ang di kinakailangang mag-manual labor. Just out of curiosity lang naman. Pero hindi mga elitista ang mga pinakamalapit kong kaibigan, eh. Palibhasa'y pare-parehas lang kami lahat na anak ng mga middle-class na pamilya na tamang-tama lang ang pamumuhay. Nakakakain, nakakapagpaaral hanggang kolehiyo. Nagigipit kung minsan, pero nakakaraos din, sa awa ng Diyos. Walang mga assets na ipapamana kundi yung edukasyon lang na pinagtustos sa amin. Yun na yun. (walang magiging drama tungkol sa last will and testament, di gaya ng old-school teleserye plot lines sa telebisyon) Minsan, sa sobrang kasanay ko na ang kasama ay mga tao sa pareho kong socio-economic level, nakakalimutan kong di lahat ng tao, kagaya ko. May naging kaklase ako na babaeng sosyal. Kung manamit sya araw-araw, parang laging may pictorial sa isang telenovela (description po nung isa kong kakilala, hindi akin). Napansin ko na mahahaba fingernails niya na french-manicured. Without thinking, natanong ko sa kaibigan ko kung pano kaya maghugas ng plato at maglaba ng damit yung kaklase namin, kung nagga-gloves kaya sya. Hello?! Ang tanong: naghuhugas at naglalaba ba yun?! Oo nga, noh. Tanga-tanga ko naman. Di ko kaagad naisip yun. Malamang hindi nga.
Maraming nagsasabi na mahirap kung nasa gitna ka ng spectrum. Kunwari, hindi maganda, pero hindi pangit. Hindi matalino, pero hindi bobo. Hindi lalaki, pero hindi babae. Yung mga ganon. Mga alanganing sitwasyon. Ang mahirap kasi dun, hindi mo alam kung saan lulugar. Parang di lubos ang acceptance at belonging. Sabagay, superficial lang naman na observation yun.
Kung pag-uusapan naman yung pagiging hindi mahirap pero hindi mayaman, sa tingin ko, okay lang yun. Kaya mong mag-adjust sa iba't ibang klase ng tao. Saan ka man masabak, hindi gaano kalaki ang agwat na sinusubukan mong abutin. Mas bukas ang isip mo. You can be sensitive to the plights of poverty without being bitter towards wealthy people. Or you can be appreciative of material things without losing the perspective of the hard work spent in earning every single one of them.
Something like that. Ewan ko ba. Basta alam ko, paggising ko kaninang umaga, malinis sahig namin.
Anyway, sa madaling salita, sa kalaliman ng gabi, I was down on all fours, scrubbing the floor. Scouring pad ang sandata ko. Zonrox, sabon, at tubig ang bala ko. Natuyong putik na nanuot sa pagitan ng tiles ang kalaban ko. (Hindi talaga binitiwan ang analogy, eh, noh?! Hehe.)
Di naman kasindak-sindak na naglilinis ako ng sahig. Sa katunayan, kaming magkakapatid ay hindi estranghero sa gawaing-bahay. May mga panahon naman na may kasama kami sa bahay para tumulong sa trabaho, pero kadalasan kami-kami lang talaga ang gumagalaw. Kaya nung nag-college na ako at may nakakasama ng roommates sa boarding house, napupuna ko talaga kung sino ang mga marunong magtrabaho at sino yung mga señorita sa bahay nila.
Ngayong bakasyon na ako lang ang bum sa bahay at nagtratrabaho na ang mga kapatid ko, wala akong kahati sa mga utos. Alam ng mga kaibigan ko yan. (Online ko lang sila nakakasalimuha ngayong summer dahil wala ngang pasok). Tuwing bumabalik ako galing sa isang BRB na message, natatanungan agad ako ng: "Are you done watering the plants already?" O di naman kaya pag sinasabi ko na kailangan ko munang mag-log-out, sinasabihan ako ng: "Tama, maghahapunan na nga pala, maghain ka na tapos maghuhugas ka pa ng pinggan."
Natatawa na lang ako minsan. Kaya nga habang ikinukuskos ko ang sahig ng sabon, iniisip ko kung ilan kaya sa mga kakilala ko ang di kinakailangang mag-manual labor. Just out of curiosity lang naman. Pero hindi mga elitista ang mga pinakamalapit kong kaibigan, eh. Palibhasa'y pare-parehas lang kami lahat na anak ng mga middle-class na pamilya na tamang-tama lang ang pamumuhay. Nakakakain, nakakapagpaaral hanggang kolehiyo. Nagigipit kung minsan, pero nakakaraos din, sa awa ng Diyos. Walang mga assets na ipapamana kundi yung edukasyon lang na pinagtustos sa amin. Yun na yun. (walang magiging drama tungkol sa last will and testament, di gaya ng old-school teleserye plot lines sa telebisyon) Minsan, sa sobrang kasanay ko na ang kasama ay mga tao sa pareho kong socio-economic level, nakakalimutan kong di lahat ng tao, kagaya ko. May naging kaklase ako na babaeng sosyal. Kung manamit sya araw-araw, parang laging may pictorial sa isang telenovela (description po nung isa kong kakilala, hindi akin). Napansin ko na mahahaba fingernails niya na french-manicured. Without thinking, natanong ko sa kaibigan ko kung pano kaya maghugas ng plato at maglaba ng damit yung kaklase namin, kung nagga-gloves kaya sya. Hello?! Ang tanong: naghuhugas at naglalaba ba yun?! Oo nga, noh. Tanga-tanga ko naman. Di ko kaagad naisip yun. Malamang hindi nga.
Maraming nagsasabi na mahirap kung nasa gitna ka ng spectrum. Kunwari, hindi maganda, pero hindi pangit. Hindi matalino, pero hindi bobo. Hindi lalaki, pero hindi babae. Yung mga ganon. Mga alanganing sitwasyon. Ang mahirap kasi dun, hindi mo alam kung saan lulugar. Parang di lubos ang acceptance at belonging. Sabagay, superficial lang naman na observation yun.
Kung pag-uusapan naman yung pagiging hindi mahirap pero hindi mayaman, sa tingin ko, okay lang yun. Kaya mong mag-adjust sa iba't ibang klase ng tao. Saan ka man masabak, hindi gaano kalaki ang agwat na sinusubukan mong abutin. Mas bukas ang isip mo. You can be sensitive to the plights of poverty without being bitter towards wealthy people. Or you can be appreciative of material things without losing the perspective of the hard work spent in earning every single one of them.
Something like that. Ewan ko ba. Basta alam ko, paggising ko kaninang umaga, malinis sahig namin.
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Ang hiwaga ng gripo at mga screensavers
Si Mary Shaira yang nasa kanan. Ira kung tawagin namin ang two-year old niece kong ito. Dumaan sila sa bahay kanina, kasama ang ten-year old kuya niyang si Joshua at auntie ko na lola nila (na "mommy" ang pinapatawag sa kanyang mga apo, at wag "lola", please lang.)
Cute si Ira, di ba? Mala-anghel ang itsura. Sa totoo lang, mabait naman talagang bata ito, medyo hyper nga lang kung minsan. At maliban na rin lang kung umaandar ang pagka-astigin nito at sinusuntok ang lahat ng makita nito habang nandidilat ang mata sabay sigaw ng "Hawa!" (Visayan term po ito na ang loose translation sa tagalog ay "Alis!")
Sinabi ko nang mabait na bata si Ira, di ba?
Mabait naman talaga. Sobrang playful nga lang kasi nga nasa stage ng "terrible two's". Kuya Joshua nya ang usual object of Ira's "cariño brutal". Kung "maglaro" ang mga ito, daig pa minsan ang first round ng Pacquiao-Marquez match. At, wag kayo! Si Ira ang gumaganap na PacMan. Si Josh, pinapaiintindi na lang namin lahat na di dapat patulan ang kid sis nya. Kaya minsan, pag masakit na talaga ang mga tama ni Ira sa kanya, nagpipigil na lang siya ng iyak. Naiintindihan ko rin naman si Josh kasi nung minsan sinuotan ko ng sandals si Ira, bigla nya akong nasipa (ayaw kong isipin na sinadya nya) at sapol sa tuhod ko ang tama. Masakit sya, in fairness. Nagka-bruise pa ng konti. Natutuwa si Ira sa mga painful slapstick comedies brought about by her playfulness. Niloloko ko nga magulang nya na baka may sadistic tendencies yung bata. (Pabiro ko lang po sinasabi yun. At sa mga concerned sa home upbringing ng pamangkin ko, wag po kayong mapraning. Born-again Christians po ang mga magulang at lola nya at sa katunayan ay malapit nang maging pastor ang tatay niya. Weird lang po yata ang sense of humor ng bata.)
Ako ang napagod sa kakapanood kay Ira habang walang tigil ang ikot nya sa sahig. Paikot-ikot na parang trumpo. Giggling all the while. Titigil lang sya kung makakakita sya ng sapatos na susuotin. She gets a kick out of that - wearing shoes too big for her. Oo nga pala, tumitigil rin sya kung susubuan mo sya ng chocolate. Yung mga tigsi-singkwenta centavos na nakabalot ng foil. (Tanong lang: bakit kaya kahit anong ingat ang pagsubo mo ng pagkain sa bata, it's inevitable that they'll spoil their clothes? Or worse, yours?)
Anyway, nang naubos na ang tsokolate, binuhat ko si Ms. Madungis at pinatong sya sa lababo. Binanlawan ko kamay at mukha nya. At syempre nang natapos, ayaw nyang magpababa. Dahil nadiskubre nya ang faucet at pinihit-pihit ito. Sobrang hina, sobrang lakas. Sobrang hina, sobrang lakas. Ang kasiyahan nya, di mo mawari at aliw na aliw syang nakikita ang agos ng tubig. So pinagbigyan ko sya sandali bago sya nilapag sa sahig. (Self snapshot at this point: chocolate stains on my PE t-shirt, and water splashes from the faucet adventure - well, you do the math).
I went to my computer to check on my downloads for a second but the next thing I knew, Ira was extending her arms to me, asking to be seated on my lap. (She knows how to open doorknobs already, I made a mental note). She found the keyboard amusing and started to press the ones she could reach (i.e, the spacebar, the Ctrl key, and the Windows shortcut key). I had to distract her from this and so I launched the screensavers previews. Boy, did she like those! She'd clap her hands whenever there's a change in the image. She yelled "Fish! Fish!" when she saw the aquarium screensaver. But I think she liked 3D Flower Box best. It elicited the most shrieks and giggles.
I'm the youngest in the family which is probably the reason why I'm kinda fond of kids - no matter how messy or playful they get. Ira and Josh are just two of my numerous nieces and nephews (children of my cousins).
They left late in the afternoon. Ira waved to me goodbye (one of her perfected "tricks"). I was left wondering about faucets and screensavers. And trying to figure out at which point in growing up do they cease to be wondrous things.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Who is "Georgia"?
I always hum along to John Mayer's "Why Georgia" and I just realized I have no earthly idea who Georgia is. Or if it refers to the U.S. state.
But you gotta hand it to John Mayer. The guy knows how to put his words together. Nothing too profound but just honest, give-it-to-me-straight-without-a-chaser kinda thing.
Because I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life
Am i living it right?
am i living it right?
am i living it right?
I like that. My thoughts exactly! So I guess not getting the part about Georgia is not that big a deal. But if anyone of you out there knows who/what Mayer was referring to, drop me a line, will you? It's all in the pursuit of knowledge. Amen.
But you gotta hand it to John Mayer. The guy knows how to put his words together. Nothing too profound but just honest, give-it-to-me-straight-without-a-chaser kinda thing.
Because I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life
Am i living it right?
am i living it right?
am i living it right?
I like that. My thoughts exactly! So I guess not getting the part about Georgia is not that big a deal. But if anyone of you out there knows who/what Mayer was referring to, drop me a line, will you? It's all in the pursuit of knowledge. Amen.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
Mothers' Day
I woke up at 6 am. I had gone to sleep only three hours before. Being up at three am is not something unusual for me.
Anyway, I tiptoed out of of the house at that ridiculously early hour. I walked two blocks towards the bakeshop. Chocolate or ube or mocha. Chocolate, definitely. No contest. Carrying with me the cake in a box, i crossed the street and bought a bunch of white flowers.
Now here's the tricky part. When I got home, making the least noise as possible, I tried to place the flowers inside the usual container but the stems were too long so the whole thing kept tipping over. I considered just laying the flowers on the table in an artistic sort of manner (read: the lazy method) and just let my mom arrange them in the vase herself when she wakes up. But, no. I decided that I shouldn't let my mother worry about her own flowers. So I took a pair of scissors and cut about a third of the flowers' length, stuck it in the vase and poured some water inside.
When my mother woke up, my brother (who conveniently took a passive role in all this thing) and I greeted her a happy mothers' day and told her that we got her flowers and cake. She was obviously touched by the gesture but was more shocked to know that I got up early to get them. She even asked me three times if I really was the one who bought them. She couldn't get over the thought that I was up before noon.
My mom's great. She's loving, warm, funny, upbeat, and she screams a lot when watching boxing games (Sorry, people, I'm still nursing some residue of the Pacquiao-Marquez draw). God knows that she deserves a whole lot more than cake and flowers with trimmed stems stuck inside an old vase. I just hope she knows that we love her a lot.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
