Pope John Paul: Lost in Bangkok

Pure-bred Roman Catholic

I am what you would call a full-blooded catholic. My parents are devout catholics who never miss to hear the sunday mass. I had 12 years of catholic education, thanks to the nuns who became the favorite topic of cruel high school jokes. During high school, I used to hear mass every wednesday and finish the Our Lady of Perpetual Help novena. Sometimes, when I have time, I even attend the mass on fridays, this time for the Sacred Heart of Jesus novena. I never miss going to sunday mass, misa de gallo, as well as every catholic procession you can think of.

Bless me father for I have sinned...

If I were to go to confession now, I would have to take a long pause after the phrase "Bless me father for I have sinned." You are supposed to tell the priest when you had your last confession. So I would say: My last confession was... ahhh... hmmm... let me think... 18 years ago!!! Well, what do you know, my last confession is already celebrating her debut. It was that long ago!

But my last communion was not too long ago. It was, if I'm not mistaken, about 10 years ago, right after college. You see, I firmly believe that before having communion, one must be clean and pure, and therefore, has to have confession first. And since I have not had confession for a loooong time, I very seldom go for communion.

Talking about communion, my elementary friends and I firmly believe that one good measure to know if the Lord has forgiven you for your sins is to have communion. The hostia (unleavened bread), upon touching your mouth, should rest on top of your tongue, not at the roof of your mouth. If it got stuck to the roof of your mouth, then you are in trouble, the Lord did not forgive you. Little did we know that all these business about the bread's stickiness is purely due to your saliva's acidity and all those scientific theories.

I missed the Pope

While in Bangkok, I stayed with a pinay friend for a weekend. She was going to hear the mass that Sunday, so I thought it to be my duty to go with her. After all, I have not heard mass for more than a year now. I thought, it wouldn't hurt, and after all, I can always make 3 wishes. (They say that you should ask for 3 things everytime you visit a new church).

Now, with all the masses that I went to during high school, I've actually memorized the whole text of the mass. I can recite all the prayers, the priest's dialogue, and the responses. That is why it gave me a jolt when I didn't hear Pope John Paul's name! His death suddenly became very real to me. I felt nostalgia wash all over me, and I felt lucky that I was actually given the opportunity to see him in person at the Vatican a few years back. I miss mentioning his name during mass! It's like knowing that Pluto is not a planet after all. Or if Santa Clause finally decides to retire. It brings chaos to an otherwise orderly world.

Sunday as a social event

Going to that cathedral in Bangok, I saw many pinoys -- lectors, sacristans, choir members, and mass-goers. It was like going to a sunday mass in the Philippines. It makes me think, aside from the joy one gets from praising the Lord, the sunday mass is a great help for expat pinoys and OFWs. It becomes a social event for them, interacting and being with fellow pinoys. I met a pinay expat here in Malaysia. She was surprised to know that I have not attended any sunday mass in Penang. For her, it was the only thing that helped her with the homesickness.

Must make a mental note, that when I go home for Christmas, I will attend at least one misa de gallo, and hear the sunday mass on Christmas and New Years. After all, I want to familiarize myself with the new pope. What's his name again?

2:09pm

03 December 2006

Sunday

Penang

Happy being miserable

Last night, I watched Grey’s Anatomy. It was their Thanksgiving episode. The lead star, Meredith, talks about being miserable, and not wanting to infect people with her misery. She thus decided to skip the Thanksgiving Dinner that a fellow-medical intern prepared.

Personally, I think that we sometimes need to be miserable and detached from people. It gives a certain emotional breathing ground, where one can be completely and utterly miserable and lonely, thereby making space for raw and pent-up emotions to surface and be recognized.

Lately, I’ve been in this kind of mood. I discovered that I am actually happy being miserable. Being ecstatic about something is scary for me. What happens after the ecstasy? As they say, the higher you fly, the more painful the fall. Why would one want to experience major highs, just to be followed by manic lows? I’d rather be safe in my monotonous and boring life than to be once again shaken by some unwelcome emotion.

Cupids, roses, chocolates, rainbows… that’s not the shape of my heart… for the moment.



2:26 pm
15 November 2006
Wednesday
Penang

Angels working over time

My friend Mai talks all the time about her angels working overtime for her. I never took notice if my angel punched in a few extra hours for my benefit. I guess I’ve always taken my angel for granted.

When I was young, the image of an angel in my head is a very tall man, with a shoulder length hair, with bangs, wearing a white robe with a colored belt around the waist. And of course, with very large and immaculately white wings. I never envisioned my angel to be a human being.

This trip proved me wrong. We went on a trip, all 6 of us. Crazy with work, and stressed with life, we took long leaves and swiped our credit cards with eyes shut, just to purchase Airasia tickets and the cheapest hotel accommodations.

The angel in Andaman

The first angel that we encountered is named Michael. Since we decided to go backpacking in Langkawi, we had to look for the cheapest everything – hotel, food, transpo, gimmick. A friend told us to never miss the sunset at the Andaman Sea. And the best place to experience this is at The Andaman. The Andaman is one of the most expensive hotel and resort in Langkawi. But this did not stop us from driving for almost an hour and pretending to be rich Filipinos in ragged and dirty backpackers’ attire.

Upon seeing the place, we instantly knew that we could not order anything. And upon looking at the menu, our fates were sealed, we can only order coffee, which costs Rm11 (which is roughly P165).

We were ordering the most inexpensive coffee we could afford, when the angel spoke, “Pinoy kayo?”. What do you know?! There’s a pinoy in The Andaman! He’s name’s Michael. We soon learned that he was one of the pioneer staff of The Andaman. And that a lot of Filipinos are working there. We also learned that The Andaman is part of the Aman Group of Resorts, which Amanpulo in Palawan is also part of.



After the amazing sunset, good coffee, great conversation and lotsa freebies (peanuts, otak-otak) from Michael, we decided to settle the bill and head for a cheap resto. We then found out that he paid for our bill! Not only that, he invited us again for a night of booze and BBQ!

We said our goodbyes after exchanging namecards and phone numbers. And we headed for the backpackers strip in Pantai Cenang, glad that we enjoyed the Andaman sunset and met a new friend.

Puon, the street angel



We were chilling out in one of the bars in the town of Siem Rep (beer’s only a dollar!), when I saw this little boy, pushing a big cart full of pirated books or book-a-likes (really good imitations of Lonely Planet and other interesting reads). We wanted to buy Lonely Planet featuring Laos, so we squinted our eyes to look for a copy. Then I noticed a hand-written note pasted on the boy’s cart. It says “My name is Puon. I am 10 years old. I have 3 sisters. I am selling books so that we can go to school. Can you please buy a book, to help us have a better life.” The handwritten note really touched my heart. I’ve seen other carts with notes imploring the tourists to buy books. But there is something very personal in the handwritten note of this boy. Call me gullible, but I felt that it might be true, that this boy is doing all he can for his sisters.

We bought a book from Puon. And it was a very pleasant surprise when he came back and handed me a small piece of green paper. There, he wrote a short note: “This is free, ok J Thank you very much *heart* Puon”. He even drew a pretty little flower. This sweet gesture made my heart melt. This little street angel Puon will go a long way. He knows the value of gratitude.

Angel of the market

She was all smiles when she learned that we were Filipinos. She told us that she watched “Pangako Sa Iyo” and other Filipino movies. Her name is Pi Dao. She sells Cambodian kramat and scarves.

Especially for us Filipinos, no trip would be complete without a visit to the local market to buy local wares and haggle for the price. Pi Dao, this sweet angel of the market was very friendly to us. She was patient enough to tolerate, and even indulge some of our paluging-tawad and pagkukuripot.

After buying several scarves from her stall, I told her “Pi Dao, I’ve no more money!”. Her response came as a surprise. She was inviting me to have lunch at her house. She told me that if I don’t have money for food, I can eat at her house. How hospitable! I would have wanted to eat in a Cambodian house, and share the meal with a Cambodian family, but I graciously declined her offer. There were 6 of us, and it would be an inconvenience for her to feed 6 hungry backpackers. So we just had our pictures taken with her, with a vow to come back to her stall if ever we visit Angkor Wat again.

We met other angels along the way – the Burmese hotel manager in Siem Rep, Viseth: the excellent tour guide, Ti Ye: the ever reliable van and tuktuk driver, the pretty girl in Bantay Srei, Moot, the chocolate-loving boy in Bantay Samre, the Vietnamese boat-girl with palanggana as her boat in Ton Le Sap Lake, and many more nameless faces who have worked overtime to share their humble gestures, kind words and sweet smiles.

I would say that this trip was an eye-opener for me, that there are still angels among us. And after hours of walking under the sun and climbing the steep temple steps, I would say that life is great. Because of people like them, one would feel at home even at the other side of the world.


08 November 2006
Wednesday
11:17pm
Penang

Slo-mo

There are times when days just seem to fly by. Those are times when you feel that your life is fully packed -- of emotions, adventures, activities. You wonder how the hours seem to clandestinely pass by. Somehow, the hours are not just enough. These are the times when you are really living life.

But today is not one those days. I feel like the whole world, and my life for that matter is on slow motion. The hands of the clock seem to weigh a hundred tons, dragging itself around the numbers.

This is life… in slow motion.



19 October 2006
Thursday
06:36pm
PANAP Office, Penang

Communication

This is a very haunting song. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it.


COMMUNICATION
The Cardigans

For 27 years I’ve been trying to believe and confide in
Different people I’ve found.
Some of them got closer than others
Some wouldn’t even bother and then you came around
I didn’t really know what to call you, you didn’t know me at all
But I was happy to explain.
I never really knew how to move you
So I tried to intrude through the little holes in your veins
And I saw you
But that’s not an invitation
That’s all I get
If this is communication
I disconnect
I’ve seen you, I know you
But I don’t know
How to connect, so I disconnect

You always seem to know where to find me and I’m still here behind you
In the corner of your eye.
I’ll never really learn how to love you
But I know that I love you through the hole in the sky.

Where I see you
And that’s not an invitation
That’s all I get
If this is communication
I disconnect
I’ve seen you, I know you
But I don’t know
How to connect, so I disconnect

Well this is an invitation
It’s not a threat
If you want communication
That’s what you get
I’m talking and talking
But I don’t know
How to connect
And I hold a record for being patient
With your kind of hesitation
I need you, you want me
But I don’t know
How to connect, so I disconnect
I disconnect.

Malaysia trip

My family came to visit me last week -- my dad, mom, sister and my adorable little niece, Summer. It was an awesome trip since we got to go to places together.

Here are some of the pictures, just click on the link:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/norlygrace/album?.dir=350fscd&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/norlygrace/my_photos

Enjoy!



7:49pm
04 October 2006
Penang

La Manila

“Come here, honey.”, Alfred told Isabel, while he held out his hand to take hers. Isabel stood up from the bed and walked towards Alfred, smiling.

“We need to get dressed for dinner. We don’t want them to wait, don’t we?”. Isabel was tying up her hair in a neat bun.

“Well, they can entertain each other.”, Alfred said with a laugh. “Why don’t you just let you hair down? I love the way your hair falls on your shoulders”, he added while touching Isabel’s hair.

Isabel lets her hair down, running her brush over her hair a couple of times. She puts on some lipstick, and sprays her favorite perfume. She finally faces Alfred and says, “I’m ready, honey, are you?”.

“Then off we go!”, says Alfred beaming at her. She flashes a hesitant smile, but heads for the door.

The couple leaves their condo apartment, and heads to the nearby mall. They walk to the mall holding hands, both of them quiet, seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

They finally reach Carre Four, and heads for their favorite restaurant, La Manila. They go inside, and Isabel takes a deep breath and tightens her grip on Alfred’s arm. Alfred smiles at her, and kisses her on the forehead.

They see a couple, sitting in a booth for four, in a dimly lit side of the restaurant.

“Oh my God, it’s so nice to see you again!”, gushes Apple, while hugging Isabel. Isabel’s tense expression finally lightened up. “Yes! It’s been a while, Apple. So how are you?”, she says, while nodding towards the direction of the other man.

“Hi, Isabel! It seems like ages since I last saw you. You look…”, glancing at Alfred, “…happy.”.

Alfred, as if on cue, gives the man a bear hug. “Bro! How’s the most successful doctor in Manila? I saw the news, bro… “Tristan Reyes performs yet another successful cardiac operation.” I’m proud of you!”.

“C’mon! It’s not that big a thing, bro. Look who’s talking! Your stories are all over the Philippines. You got all the big news stories. Congratulations, bro! You are one of the most credible news personalities around.”, Tristan shakes Alfred’s hand. The two men, with wide smiles on their faces, hug each other once more.

“Hey, you two, stop complimenting each other, and let’s sit down and have dinner.”, Isabel quips while sitting down. Apple does the same, and takes Tristan’s hand, motioning him to sit down.

The two couples happily have dinner and talk about what is going on with their lives. Halfway through the bottle of red wine, Apple asked Isabel, “So have you started preparing for the wedding?”.

Isabel and Tristan exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Well, we already have a wedding planner.”, she says. And to Tristan, "We wanted to tell you personally, but we can’t get hold of you."

“It’s not a big deal, Isabel.”, Tristan drinks from his wine glass.

“And Tristan, we both want you to be there. Promise that you’ll be there. We want her to be there, and be part of the wedding.”, Isabel looks imploringly at Tristan. Alfred holds her hand, and looks intently at Tristan.

“Isabel, I’m sure it’s not a problem with Tristan. It’s ok, bro, right?”, he looks at Tristan, as if silently commanding him to say yes.

“Of course, she will be there. How could she miss such an important occasion?!”, he laughs mockingly. He adds, “At least now, she has one parent who will be legally married!”.

‘Tristan, stop it!”, Isabel orders Tristan. Apple looks away.

“Ok, then, it’s settled. I am sure she will be the prettiest girl in that wedding, aside from you, honey, of course!”, Alfred laughs a nervous laugh. Then to Apple, “You will be there right?”.

Apple seems at a loss for words, then finally speaks, “Well, yeah, of course Alfred. We won’t miss that for the world. We will be there, both me and Tristan. You can pick up the little girl a week before the wedding. For… you know… all the preparations”. Then looks at Tristan with a pained look.

Tristan, who seemed to have too much to drink, suddenly fills his glass with red wine, and raises his glass. “Here’s to the soon-to-be-married couple! A toast, to happiness!”. The couples toast and smile politely.

Tristan then faces Apple and says, “Too bad, sweetheart, they can’t make the same toast for us.”.

“Bro, let’s drop the subject. Tell me about your prestigious hospital?”, Alfred tries to change the subject, while Apple tries to suppress tears swelling on her eyes.

Meanwhile, Isabel has been quiet, intently looking down at her lap.

Tristan sits down, takes a deep breath and kisses Apple on her cheeks, “I’m sorry sweetheart, it’s the red wine talking.”

“It’s ok sweet. I’m ok… it’s nothing…”, her voice fades, but she touches Tristan face lovingly. “I’m sorry that my hands are tied at the moment, but you know that I love you, don’t you?”

“I do, sweetheart, I do…”, Tristan looks at the happy couple, catches Isabel’s eyes, then whispers to Apple, “…now, I really do.”




17 September 2006
Sunday
07:34pm
Penang

Tippy… I’m home!

Isn’t it a really amazing feeling, coming home to someone you absolutely adore?

Office work becomes a breeze knowing that you are just a few hours away from seeing that someone.

As you walk towards your house, your heart even skips a beat because of excitement.

Everytime I come home, I just love the thought of seeing him again. As soon as the door’s open, I shout, “Tippy… I’m home!” or “Hola, Tippy!”.

Tippy... the epitome of cuteness. He is the green-colored toad-looking stuff toy my friend Sheila gave during my despedida dinner. She said Tippy will be my toad prince for the moment, while the real one is lost somewhere out there.

So, meet my Tippy. I’m sure you’ll agree that he’s the most adorable toad on earth.



07 September 2006
Thursday
05:06pm
PANAP Office, Penang

Bali high…

Can’t think of anything to write. Was supposed to write about amazing Bali. Unfortunately, I feel that my words will not do justice to the place. So I will not write anything to underestimate its beauty. Just click on the link:

http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/norlygrace/my_photos

Click on the “Bali Aug 2006” folder.



Note:
By the way, Bali High is a local beer in Indonesia. It’s Marjo’s favorite high :)


24 August 2006
Thursday
09:07pm
Penang

Little Joys

Life is indeed full of things, events and circumstances that may turn out to be small prizes, little joys, pleasant surprise. They might be trivial and insignificant for others. But these things never fail to bring smile to my lips and make my heart skip a little.

I made a list of what I consider my top 10 “little joys”.
1. A relaxing massage
2. Great conversation
3. Fullmoon
4. A bear hug
5. Rainy Sunday
6. Walk along the beach
7. Text message from a good friend
8. Fluffy pillows
9. Good movie and Chippy
10. Going to the grocery on a weekend

What’s yours?





13 August 2006
Sunday
05:07pm
Penang

Pag-ibig at Tide Ultra

a friend sent this poem. read on...

=========================================

Ang Pag-ibig Alinsunod sa Pakete ng Tide Ultra

sabi ko
ayaw kong maglaba sa gabi
hindi ko alam kung bakit

siguro’y ayaw kong makitang
nakasungaw ang bituin sa ulap
at pinapanood ang bawat kong kusot

pero hindi kagabi –
ang totoo
naglaba ako

sinamantala ko ang pangungulimlim
ng bituin sa nangingilid na ulap

at natitiyak ko
maputi ang aking nilabhan
sinunod ko yata ang bawat instruksyon
sa likod ng pakete ng tide ultra

1. kunin sa timba ang damdaming matagal nang ibinabad

2. kusutin ng mabuti, pabulain
pabulain upang matiyak na
natatakpan na ng bula
ang mga salitang noon pa sana sinabi

3. at dahil nahuli na sa sikat ng araw
na siyang pagkukulahan
lagyan na lamang ng Clorox
upang kumupas at walang makakita
sa mantsa ni Eros

4. banlawan, maraming banlaw
at tiyaking maisama sa tubig
ang mga sentimyento
at panghihinayang

5. ibuhos sa kanal ang tubig
upang makapagtago sa burak
ang mga pagsinta

6. isampay sa mahanging lugar
ang nilabhang damdamin
pabayaan itong makahinga
matagal na rin naming
naikubli ito sa baul

pagmumuni pagkatapos…
napigaan ko na ang damit, mariin
nakalimutang ko nga lamang
pigaan ang tubig sa aking mata

paalam muna
samantala’y magpapatuyo muna ako –
ng damit
ng mata

sana’y walang makakita
salamat sa pakete ng tide ultra.

(Gilbert M. Sape)

Durog kung durog!

I came across this phrase a couple of years ago, during a cold night in Baguio. A friend and former colleague used this phrase to describe how much she gives into a relationship – no limits, no hesitations, 101% real L-O-V-E!

Durog kung durog… this captures the lengths to which individuals in a relationship would go to, just to preserve what they have. It’s not enough that they get beaten and bruised, they would even endure the pain of having their hearts laid down in a mortar, then ground and crushed into tiny bits. That is the very essence of this phrase – enduring the pestle’s painful grind.

Durog kung durog… this entails not measuring how much one can give, because the well will certainly not go dry, not until there are still small pieces to be broken down into the most minute particles.

Durog kung durog… what one feels when someone has taken one’s heart, held it tightly with one fist and crushed it, leaving it dry and mangled. But the damage does not end there. The battered heart is thrown to the ground, gets stepped upon, repeatedly.

Durog kung durog… this is what one might feel after a really ugly goodbye. One can do nothing but to stand up, straighten ones clothes, and continue walking, ignoring the fact that the heart is broken, bruised, mangled and battered. After all, ‘durog kung durog’ is what we say after losing a battle – a battle we knew we could never win in the first place.

So ask yourself, are you willing to go the extra mile, braving all odds and facing the possibility of being “durog” at the end of the day? I certainly would not. Well, not now. Ikaw?




19 July 2006
Wednesday
05:26pm
Penang

Futbol!

Malaysians are really football crazy! Football to them is like basketball to us Pinoys. And now that the world cup fever has invaded Europe, Latin America and some parts of Asia (Japan and Korea), Malaysia is joining the bandwagon.

Everything in Malaysia at the moment is contaminated by the virus that is the world cup – tv commercials, billboards, announcements, conversations, social events, etc. Malaysians breathe, drink and eat football, or futbol, as the locals would call it.

Being a legal alien in this country, I try my best to fit in – I’ve tried Laksa (the spicy noodle soup with a bagoong-like paste), spicy dishes, eaten noodles with chopsticks, even tried durian! And of course, since Malaysia’s favorite sport is football, I have to know why they go gaga over it.

So I surfed in the internet about the game, its history, the rules, the teams, and of course… the gorgeous players (yummy!). My favorite are: Cahill (Australia), Adriano (Brazil) and Del Piero (Italy). They are certainly the sweetest eye candy, I tell you.

Because of this new-found interest for football, I’ve spend several sleepless nights watching the games. The games usually start at 2:00 or 3:00am! And at this unholy hour, there I am in front of the tv, watching gorgeous yet sweaty men run, kick, jump and get physical with each other.

My eyebags, the dark circles around my eyes, the breakout in my skin and my cranky mood in the mornings are evidence of this new obsession. I was in denial at first, but now I can see clearly… I am futbol crazy! Just like everyone else in this country!

It’s near midnight. In exactly 2 hours, the final game for the FIFA world cup will be aired live. I am still awake, waiting for the ultimate game between Italy and France. I am rooting for Italy, since they are really like us Pinoys. My friend calls them the Pinoys of Europe (see: http://www.lifeinitaly.com/flash/). Aside from that, they are really, really cute! Go Del Piero!!!

This is the last world cup night. Tomorrow, the world will go back to normal. I can have my full 8 hours sleep. The white and black ball will finally rest, well, for 4 years… and will be in South Africa for the next world cup.

Still waiting for 2am…

Getting sleepy…

But need to stay awake…

Will just watch Piolo and Juday DVD…

Eating Goldilocks brownies, yummy!...

Now, can’t sleep…

Good luck, Del Piero, my dolce!


Postscript: (4:58am)
Del Piero didn’t score a goal (well, except in the penalty shootout), but hey… WE WON!!!

And what’s with Zidane, ramming his head in his opponent’s chest? He really deserves the red card.

Hurrah for Azzuri! La Dolce Vita!

09 July 2006
Sunday
11:58pm
Penang


Below: Del Piero, Adriano and Cahill, respectively

Kuantan-bound!

My new office, also an NGO, organised a meeting in Kuantan. (Notice I’m using British English I have to practice since all communications, documents, etc here are in British English). It’s a small, quaint city in the State of Pahang, around 8 hours drive from Penang. I was really excited since apart from Penang, KL was the only place I’ve visited.

So off we went on a Toyota RV. Good thing Uncle Ravi (husband of our boss) was driving. He had cool cd’s – he even had reggae music!

Below you will find some thoughts during the whole 4 days of my adventure.

Day 1
1. Food trip
Our road trip was literally a food trip! We had rambutan for baon. We stopped at every place we can eat, or have Te or tea (my favorite is Te Ice – like iced tea, without lemon, but with sweet milk, really lovely! I’m addicted to it actually).

2. Mata cuching
A new discovery! It looks like small chico, but tastes like lychees! So good! Sarap! Bagus! Mata Cuching’s literal English translation is “cat’s eye”, since the seed inside the fruit resembles that of a cat’s eye.

3. Temple in the limestone cave
Along the way, we passed by a mining town. It’s so sad since the town is already dying because they could not mine any minerals anymore. What they are mining now are the limestone in the mountains. You can see mountains literally chopped in half! Talk about harvesting the mountains. There was this one mountain with a Moslem temple etched in a limestone cave. It was really beautiful. Too bad I didn’t have a camera with me.

4. Chicken biscuit
The Chinese Malaysian lady from the office was raving about how delicious the Chicken Biscuit was. So, we had to make yet another pit stop just to buy the infamous chicken biscuit. The taste was quite interesting – sweet, salty, and a little oily. I found out that they actually used chicken broth in making the biscuit.

5. Moon cake
I could not recall how my love for moon cake began. Maybe it was because of Bliss, a Chinese classmate from college. Me and some of my classmates used to stay at her place for a couple of days – no, weeks – to finish some school requirements, and I think she used to serve moon cakes. It was really delicious! Especially, those with sunflower seeds and red eggs inside. So, in one of our pit stops (the chicken biscuit stop), I just had to buy a mooncake. It was quite expensive – Rm 5 for one small piece (around P75). But I was quite happy since it was pretty good and it had red eggs inside. Too bad there were no sunflower seeds.

Day 2
1. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome
Unlike the first day of adventure, the second day was work, starting from 9:00 am! I was assigned as the documentor, and I did not want to miss any important discussions, so I was typing furiously the whole time. In the afternoon, I was experiencing pain in my finger joints. I got alarmed. I might have developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome! I have to have this checked when I get back to Manila. (Yes! I’m going to Manila for a couple of days on August, yehey!!!)

2. Turtles
We went to a turtle sanctuary, and we got to see the really humongous turtles. We also saw the small baby turtles that are scheduled to be released that night. Too bad we couldn’t see the cute things being released to the water.

3. Steam boat
In the evening, we went to a Steam Boat resto (Malaysians call it Steam Bot). The concept is like an eat-all-you-can buffet. You will be seated in a round table, with all the ingredients laid out. There is a big bowl in the middle, with fire underneath. It’s actually like a hotpot, but this you will cook anyway you want. You can just dump all the ingredients in the bowl (with 2 kinds of soup – Tom Yam and clear soup) and let it simmer. The ingredients are varied – chicken, pork, fish, crab stick, quail eggs, chicken eggs, veggies, squid balls, fish ball, fish stick, crab balls, tofu. The list could go on and on. To make the story short, I got soooo full, that I had to unbutton my pants, and take deep breaths. Or else, I was really beginning to feel dizzy, and I was actually worried that I might faint. I was praying to all the saints not to let me faint because that would be too embarrassing – a Filipina woman fainted because of overeating. Kadiri!

4. Tiger beer
So… that was how beer would taste like after 20 days of being alcohol free. The last drop of beer that touched my alcoholic tongue was on June 2. After 20 days, I indulged myself and had Tiger beer. It’s not as good as SMB, but hey, beer is a beer is a beer, right?

Day 3
1. Batik Painting
Today wasn’t very exciting, except for our Batik Painting sessions. The resort where we stayed (Duta Villa) was offering batik painting. You just have to pay Rm 15 (roughly P220), then they’ll give you a canvass with a batik wax pattern and some colors. You get to color the canvass, let it dry, and take your artwork back home. I just couldn’t let this opportunity pass, so I enrolled, with Gibo (another pinoy) and Melvin (a Chilean bondying, aka. “the Chilean Lodel”). I got the pattern with the tiny turtles. We had so much fun! Coloring the canvass while drinking Tiger beer.



Day 4
1. Batik store
The session finished early so we had time for jalan-jalan (going around). We went to this batik store which had really beautiful batik items. Can’t afford to buy the pieces as the price is around Rm150 (P2,200). Too expensive for me. So I just pictures, and bought some things for Summer, mommy and Mayette, and of course, for the dyosas.

2. Bollywood movie
Before lunch, I had time to relax and watch the local channels. A bollywood movie was on. The format of these movies are amazing, much like the B-movie films back in the 80s – with lots of singing and group dancing.

3. Orang Asli
On our road trip back to Penang, we wanted to pass by the Elephant Sanctuary in Pahang. Unfortunately, the place was already tutup (closed). But a pleasant surprise is that the sanctuary is near a small kampong (village) of the Orang Asli (indigenous people). They look like the Mangyans of Mindoro – short and dark, with curly hair. They live in small houses which resembles a bahay-kubo, but with taller stilts.


4. Durian fever
The people in the van were getting quite uneasy after the filling meal of tom-yam based dishes in the very expensive (yet mediocre) Thai restaurant. So they decided to stop for durian. We parked the van and huddled in the small durian stall. They sell the durian for Rm3.30 per piece (roughly P50). I just had 1 small piece, that’s enough for me for the week. Will try to increase dosage next time. I had a grand time watching my officemates gobble the durian like they were manna from heaven.

5. Genting Highlands
On the way back, we passed by Genting Highlands. The night air was so cold, reminded me of Baguio. As the van passed by the posh subdivisions in the area, I noticed something up in the mountain on my right side. A group of brightly lit buildings were on top of the mountain. The lights were made brighter because the clouds were creating a mist amidst the building, reflecting and refracting the lights. It was a magnificent sight!!! I learned that there is a casino on top of the mountains. Below the buildings, the whole mountain is dotted by lights, which looked like stars which landed on the mountain. Talk about Las Vegas in the sky!



25 June 2006
Sunday
4:37pm
Penang

Next Stop, Wonderland

“Being alone is fine. Being alone together is perfect”.

That is the very catchy, yet truthful tagline of the British movie “Next Stop Wonderland”. It is about a lady nurse who just broke up with her fiancee, and has decided to live the life of a spinster. Her family however, led by her over eager mother has decided to put on an offensive strategy to get her back on the saddle. Her mother posted a personal ad in the paper. The ad resulted to several funny encounters and dates, including a group of blokes who wagered over who would have a successful date with her. In the end, being the smart and phenomenal girl that she is, she was able to detect the ‘big joke’. She then met a Brazilian Casanova, charming her with his wit, sense of humor and sex appeal. He asks her to go with him to Brazil, and she seriously considers his offer. All this action happened while the movie was also focusing on another character – THE GUY. The male lead, let’s call him ‘guy’, is working in the city aquarium, which houses a very popular (yet weird-looking fish), I forgot what it’s called. Then because of the guy’s desire for self-actualization I guess, he enrolled in night school, studying marine science. The movie details both characters’ (the girl and the guy) daily struggles and their quest for something more important in life. One central object in the movie is the train/subway. The major characters are always seen contemplating about their lives inside the train. Near the end of the movie, the girl finally decides to go to Brazil with Casanova. She packs her bag, picks up her ticket and hails a cab going to the airport. By the forces of nature, traffic suddenly gets jammed, that she had to go down the cab and take the train instead. She goes inside the packed train and endures the claustrophobic feeling amidst the swarm of bodies. She suddenly feels dizzy because of the maddening crowd, and misses the airport stop. She struggles to get off the train, but fails. Instead, she got blocked by the hordes of people coming in and going out of the train. Just as when she almost collapsed because of claustrophobia, she was caught by THE GUY. Incidentally, the guy did not really make an effort to get near her. Somehow, the crowd pushed him towards her, and suddenly, he was there, in front of her, with no effort at all. Right on cue, the PA system of the train announced, “Next stop, Wonderland”. (Wonderland is the name of the stop after the airport.) End of movie.

I really loved this movie. Not only because this is a really feel-good movie, a movie you would want to watch after depressing ones like Talk to Her, Leaving Las Vegas, etc. I also liked it because of the soundtrack. It features bossa nova music. That is why I developed my love for Sitti Navarro’s (the pinoy version of Bebel and Astrud Gilberto) music.

I also liked the movie because it gives hope. It shows that even if you think that you have missed your stop – and that people might be pushing you in all directions, that you just want to lie down and take a break from it all – there is still a next stop. Don’t fret for the missed opportunity. The next stop may not be where you planned to get down, but it may be better than your destination.

Sometimes, you will have moments when you just want to be resigned to the idea that what is in front of you is IT. But after watching this movie, I felt that I need to wait for things that are really meant for me. I should not settle for things that don’t feel right, for these are just crumbs. The whole loaf is there for the taking. I just have to learn to decipher the crumbs from the loaf (which is actually not a hard thing to do! Sometimes, we just refuse to see it). When you feel lost and alone amidst a crowd of nameless faces who try to push you, stand your ground, minimize resistance, be open to getting down on the stop next stop. After all, it could be Wonderland.


17 June 2006
Saturday
12:26am
Penang

I love Grace because…

Due to boredom caused by my being unemployed for the last 2 months, I have been spending a lot of time surfing the net, and reading other people’s blog entries. I’ve read some blogsites that are really interesting, some even informative. Most interesting blogs I’ve read are from the UP Diliman Literature professors.

During one of my blog-reading sessions, I chanced upon this entry which encourages the readers to try googling (root word: google) the phrase “I love {type in your name} because”. Because of curiosity and boredom, I tried it, but used my second name (Grace). I realized that Norly is not a very popular name, and the search result yielded zero hits. Here are some of my favorite hits:

** I love Grace because...she writes me random notes with pirate lyrics in them.
(Coincidentally, I love writing random notes. Sometimes, the notes are so random that they seem incoherent.)

*** I love Grace because of the products and the getting in on the ground floor business opportunity.
(Products? If I were a product, what kind of product would I be? I wonder…)

*** I love Grace because she RENTED The Graduate.
(Hmmm… I don’t think I’ve watched that movie. Must make a mental note to buy DVD one of these days.)

*** I love Grace because she make laugh and that makes me phlegmy.
(Someone really special told me that I make him laugh, and that thought really made me happy. Phlegmy? Now that is a contradiction. How can one make you laugh and passive/unemotional at the same time? Hmmm… )

*** I love GRACE, because it's good and it's something free, given to all who don't deserve it at all. Given to me.
(This one’s my favorite! i am for free, even for the undeserving! hahaha!)


Now, your turn. Go and google! You will definitely be amused. Email me for really interesting hits.



10 June 2006
Saturday
09:05pm
Penang

Kindred Spirits

Sometimes you meet a kindred spirit, seeming to know you, understand you and feel you. It makes one alive, knowing that one’s existence is validated by another soul, so much alike one’s own. It is such a fulfilling emotion, feeling that person’s soul, touching the other’s spirit, knowing that whatever experiences in the past, and whatever possibilities in the future, things will be the same, the soul and spirit will be aligned, will be in tune, dancing to the same harmony.

Here are some ramblings inspired by my kindred spirit…

“I’ve met a kindred spirit. But he’s restless as I am, trying to find answers. I’m afraid to immerse myself into this emotional abyss. I might fall deeply that I can’t resurface. Lucky are those who can find kindred souls, and be forever consumed by the desire to remain in a state of hopeless abandon.”

“As the barge bid goodbye to the warm sand, and embraced the soothing waves. I did the same. I said farewell to a mundane and trivial emotion, and embraced the intensity of another being’s spirit. And as the barge sailed, the wind completely washed off the stains of the past, and whispered hopes for the future.”


(date and place withheld)

artwork

below are pictures of my attempt in art...

Dizzy

watermelons in watercolor

fruit basket

sideview

indian landscape -- view from my room

silya ni Van Gogh

science experiment

Aftershocks – after the tremor

I am most afraid of earthquakes. It reminds me of how people like us are the mercy of the forces of nature. No amount of wealth, power, beauty and love can save one from the wrath of earthquakes. It is a very powerful and malevolent equalizer.

These tremors, no matter how low in intensity, always leave me in a state of utter panic. Once the ground starts shaking, and furnitures move around, I want to scream my head off and run… run to anywhere safe, stable and quiet. But at the back of my mind, I know that no place is safe at that moment, I will feel the tremors no matter where I am. I envision scenarios where buildings collapse, trees get uprooted, the ground opens up, and swallows cars and people. These morbid thoughts I always associate with earthquakes.

Then there are those we call aftershocks. These are the tremors we feel a little after the major earthquake. Aftershocks happen because the newly-moved rock has to be settled. These are most often lower in intensity and less disastrous, but can still do damage to lives and properties. I know that I should be more calm and composed since aftershocks are just that… minor tremors after the major shock. But somehow, I feel the same sense of panic and fright during these aftershocks. The dangerous thing about aftershocks is that these are unpredictable and can catch people off guard.

Aftershocks scare me – whether from the earthquake or from a major emotional disaster. After a really hurtful heartbreak, I relieve the experience of the actual heart-wrenching situation each and every time these “aftershocks” come. The sad thing is, these emotional aftershocks do not come minutes after the big tremor. It comes weeks and even months after – at times when you feel that one is finally at peace and can move on, when one is alone, when one is amidst a busy crowd, when one is at the height of the toxicity at work – it does not have a fixed timeframe, situation, trigger, nor a reason. It just comes – mocking you and bringing that same deep-in-the abyss feeling that you thought you have gotten over with, that you have forgotten. It makes you feel unsafe and vulnerable.

The sad part is, I feel the same intense panic, shock and confusion each and every time these emotional aftershocks happen. The evil ghosts of the past continue to show their ugly selves and desperately try to make me remember how painful and hurting the experience is.

But now I know better, aftershocks are just there to make you remember that once in your life, there were these tremors. But they cannot hurt you anymore, they are just there as persistent reminders that in life, tremors will come. We just have to be ready and strong when it does come. And that aftershocks are necessary, for all the debris and memories to finally settle down.


27 May 2006
Saturday
07:51pm
QC

On my birthday…

Every year, during my birthday, I am used to waiting for greetings and messages from friends, deriving joy and strength from their words of encouragement, appreciation and love. This year, I want to be able to express how I feel for friends like you.

I am very blessed to have known people like you. I am glad that you have been part of this journey that I call life. No matter how bumpy and winding the road may be, I am cushioned by your constant love and dedication. No matter how many times I’ve wanted to give up because I’ve made another wrong turn, your words have navigated me and guided me to the right direction.

If I have offended you in some way, my apologies.

If I have done something for you, I promise to do it better next time.

Thank you for being a friend, and thank you for allowing me to be one of yours.

Thank you very much. I am eternally grateful.




9:35pm
Sunday
21 May 2006
my bed, QC

My checklist – The ideal guy

This will really sound stupid. But I have made a checklist of what my ideal guy/jowa should have. The list was just 5 items short 10 years ago, but now, it is longer than my weekly grocery list.

Here’s the list, well, the partial list:
1. Should be funny and witty
2. Should be honest and faithful
3. Should be smart
4. Should be from UP, Ateneo, La Salle, or UST.
5. Should know how to drive
6. Can drink more than I do
7. Knows how to play a musical instrument
8. Must be taller than me
9. Must know how to play billiards
10. Must know how to swim

That’s the first 10 items in my list. The rest, I can do without. Ika nga, hindi ko ipapagpatayan.

Now, to tell you frankly, most of the guys I’ve dated, they only have an average of 6 traits. I have yet to find someone who will fit all the items in the list. If and when I can find him, and if he does exists, then he would be my toad, my prince, my god.

Anyone know this guy?



10:13pm
Monday
08 May 2006
QC

Bagay sa iyo, foreigner…

Bakit ganon? Ako lang ba ito? Bakit lagi akong nasasabihan ng, “Feeling ko, mapapangasawa mo foreigner”, o kaya naman, “Bagay sa iyo foreigner”. Bakeeet? Meron bang nakapaskil sa noo ko na “For export”? Gusto ko for local consumption ako!

Kung ang iba, napipikon sa mga hirit na, “Hayaan mo, dadating din yan”. Ako hindi, sanay na ako dyan. Natutunan ko nang deadmahin. Pasok sa isang tenga, labas sa kabila. Pero ang magandang trick dyan, sabihin mo, “Oo naman, dadating talaga sya.” Sabayan mo pa ng sweetest smile mo, tignan mo, winner talaga! Hindi ka na nila gagambalain, promise!

Back to foreigners. Hindi naman ako racist, of course not! Hindi din naman sa kinamumuhian ko ang ibang lahi. Pero sadya lang talaga na love ko ang mga Pinoy. Masyado ko yatang na-internalize ang lesson ko nung elementary – Love your own, Pinoy First. Kaya heto ako ngayon, nagpupumilit na gusto ko ang pinoy!

Hindi ko mawari kung maiinis ako, mapipikon, o maaaliw sa mga ganitong hirit, na foreigner ang bagay sa akin. Ilang tao na ang naringgan ko ng ganyang hirit – kaibigan, kamag-anak, kaaway, kaopisina, dating boyfriend. Bakit ba? Wala ba akong karapatang lumigaya sa isang Pinoy? Bakit kailangang foreigner? Ayoko nga! Ang kulit ng lahi nyo!

Hindi nyo ba napapansin, kapag ang isang babae ay umabot na sa past 30s, na wala pa ding asawa, o hindi pa engaged to be married, sinasabi ng karamihan, “Foreigner ang magiging boyfriend nya.” Arghhh! Parang ang ibig sabihin, dahil huli na sa byahe, wala nang magkakagustong Pinoy, at mga foreigners na lang ang kayang mag-handle ng relasyon sa isang mature (and mind you, phenomenal) woman like me. Napakababa naman ng tingin natin sa mga Pinoy kung ganon, tsk tsk. At napaka-swerte naman ng mga foreigners. Ang mga Pinay na naglaan ng oras para magtrabaho, i-develop and sarili at maging mature at independent, ay hindi makakasama ng mga Pinoy, kundi ng mga foreign-germs! Ang mga banyaga na walang alam sa ating kultura, pagkatao at pag-iisip. Tsk tsk, kaawa-awang mga Pinoy.

Pero syempre, meron naman na by choice ang pagkakaroon nila ng jowang foreign-germ. Napakadaming rason ang narinig ko – para maputi ang anak, para matangos ang ilong ng baby, para makapunta sa States, para magka-green card, I’m in love. At nire-respeto ko ang lahat ng iyan. Pero yun nga, choice talaga kasi ang pagpasok sa kahit ano mang relasyon. And my choice is… Pinoy or Bust!

Bakit nga ba ayoko sa foreigner? Hmmm… let me count the reasons. Una, napaka-komportable ko sa tagalog. Isipin nyo na lang, pag galit na galit ako, mas masarap pa ding magmura sa tagalog! Mas masarap mag kwento at humirit. Napaka-importante sa akin ng conversations. How can I have a really deep, intense and meaningful conversation when I can’t fully express myself? At saka baka kasi maubusan ako ng ingles, eh magkapikunan lang kami, at later on, baka mag sign language na lang kami hahaha!

Pangalawa, sa Pilipinas ko gustong tumanda. Pag foreigner ang magiging partner ko, may possibility na hindi dito manirahan. Mami-miss ko ang traffic, bagoong, chippy at lucky me instant pancit canton. Ayoko! Pangatlo… ahhhh… hmmm… wala na akong maisip. Pero I think the 2 reasons would suffice.

Sige, challenge me. Tanungin mo sa akin, pano pag wala talagang Pinoy na bagay sa akin? Basta eto lang, first choice ko Pinoy. Second choice ko, Pinoy pa din. Third, fourth and fifth, Pinoy! In short, pag sobrang tagtuyot na dito sa Pilipinas, I will accede that it’s time to explore other islands. Pero sana lang, kung hindi Pinoy, Brazilian ang gusto ko. Bakit? Basta! I have my reasons hehehe.

Pero yun nga, ang sabi ng mga matanda, kung sino ang ayaw mo, yun ang mapupunta sa iyo. Kaya ngayon pa lang, gusto kong sabihin na “I hate Pinoys!”.


7:45 pm
29 April 2006
Saturday
Sorsogon City, Sorsogon

Toad Prince

Do you remember the fairy tale of the frog prince, where the only thing that could make him change back to being a prince is the kiss of a true love? Let’s just say that I have internalized that story too much. So much that I jumped into a river full of frogs, and even toads, in my attempt to find genuine, head-over-heels, giddy love.

There is actually a difference between a frog and a toad. Toads are like frogs, have relatively shorter legs, stout bodies and thicker skinned. They are also characterized by warty skin. In short, they are not cute like Kermit.

I feel that I have the duty, as the princess (or more aptly, the dyosa), to have mercy on these creatures, and set them free from the curse of the evil witch. So there I was, bathing in the moonlight, my lower body immersed in murky water, dipping my hands in the cold water, and one by one, fishing out all the toads that I can see. When I have it finally in my hand, I kiss it. Then I pause for a brief moment, waiting for the transformation. But nothing happens, so I kiss it again, hoping that the magic will work the second time. Still, the toad looks like a toad. And I kiss it for the third time, this time, more lingering, hoping that a miracle would happen, that the slimy toad would transform into my handsome prince. But alas, nothing happens, the toad just looks me in the eye, and croaks so loud that I have to let it go. And I do this again to another toad… and to another… and another… until I got so tired and cold from the chilly night wind. Unfortunately, it’s either the story of the frog prince is not true or the prince is really a pig, and not a toad. Goodness gracious! I would not want to spend a lot of time in dirty pigpens, kissing porky pigs. Yuck!!! I’m sure a lot of dyosas can relate to this experience. Although I’m not sure if you’ve kissed a frog or a toad, or how many times you’ve tried to kiss the toad, or how many toads you have kissed.

Some people refer to their exes as ghosts, pigs, bitches, witches, assholes. But I prefer to call them toads. Who knows, they might also be looking for their own princesses/dyosas. It’s just that I am not THE one. They will someday transform into the handsome, dashing, loving prince that they are, but only if they are kissed by the right princess/dyosa. So you dyosas out there, make sure you kiss the right toad, for your own happiness, as well as for the toad’s happiness.

I’ve been racking my brains trying to find a better way of finding my toad. And I suddenly had this brilliant idea. When I am ready again to immerse myself in the river full of toads, I would bravely do so, and fish out a toad. But this time, I would not kiss him right away, I would ask if he wants me to kiss him. I know it may sound stupid, talking to a toad. But I assure you, if he’s MY toad, and if I am HIS dyosa, we would know. No more kissing each and every toad in the river, that’s too tiring. This time, I am smarter. I will talk to him, ask him if he is mine, and if I am his. Then if it’s the right toad, and the right moment, I would not hesitate to lovingly kiss the toad. And with just one magical kiss, everything will change. The murky river will be clearer, the moon will be bigger, the stars would be brighter, and my toad will turn into my prince.

Now, if you’re going to ask if we’re going to live happily ever after… well, that’s another story.


Note:
If you want interesting trivia on the story of the Frog Prince, check out:
http://www.answers.com/topic/the-frog-prince-story?method=6

16 April 2006
Saturday
4:14 pm
QC

Fag hag

(My apologies to all my gay friends. I know that using the word fag may be derogatory. It’s not to insult anyone. I love my gay friends, and they know it.)

Phenomenal woman… Dazzling diva… Kagandahan… and my favorite… Dyosa. These are what my gay friends call me. Either they really think of me as the ultimate phenomenal friend, or they are just really savvy smooth talkers.

I’ve told people time and again that I have a very strong, yet peculiar affinity with gay men. Maybe because in my past life, I swear that I have been a gay man… a phenomenal gay!

I can prove that I know how it feels to be a man. I’ve told a few close friends about this story. While driving in traffic-jammed EDSA, I chanced upon this man doing his thing near the railings in the sidewalk. I swear to all the atoms that I know how he felt after doing his thing! I know it! I’ve felt it! I swear!!!

Ergo, I know that I was a man in my past life.

You want another proof? All gay men I meet immediately love me, or at least like me. One of my dearest friends even went to the extent of telling me, “Kung bading ka lang sana, naging tayo na!”. I was flattered, really flattered. And I felt the same way about him, and all my gay friends. I love them to bits! I love them because they are like me most of the times. Because of this affinity to my beautiful gay friends, some people have called me a fag hag.

What is a fag hag? Let’s dissect the words. Fag, according to the dictionary is the disparaging term for a homosexual man, short for faggot. Hag, is what you call an old single woman, considered ugly or frightful. Now… a fag hag is supposed to be a single woman, presently unattached, unattractive and destined to a life of loneliness.

If that is what it means, I refuse to be called a fag hag! I am certainly not one! The term fag hag has to be striken out of the English vocabulary! It is insulting not only to my wonderful gay friends, but also to us phenomenal dyosas.

Me and my single dyosa friends have this weekly Gathering of the Goddesses – either over bottles of beer, cups of coffee, pots of tea or plates of crackling liempo. It’s to affirm our strength and power over our lives and our destinies. It is also when we talk about our plans for world control and domination. Bwahaha! Seriously, it’s really fun, these gathering of the goddesses. It makes me realize that life is really about myself giving and reaching out to the world, and not about waiting for the world to reach out to me.

I love my life, because of friends like them – my sweet gay lolas, and my phenomenal dyosas. They make life special, colorful, worth living.

This is for Ram, Hamsy, Maitaqs, Imee-har, and to all the phenomenal dyosas who have shared their wisdom, their strength, their power.

This is for Ganesh, Noelle, Win, Onat, and to all my lolas who have yet to make their announcement, and make the world realize that they too are phenomenal.



9:36 pm
06 April 2006, Thursday
QC

Night Rain -- a repost

I was halfway through my last stick,
while sipping sweet hot tea with milk,
when I suddenly
heard a rumble coming from the west.
I stopped for a brief moment to listen,
trying to decipher what the noise was,
where it was coming from.
Could it be an old-beat up car?
A jeepney on its way home from a day of work,
plying through Manila’s busy thoroughfares?
Somehow,
I could not make sense of what the rumble was.
Slowly,
the noise grew louder.
Could it be rain?
I looked at the evening sky.
No stars were in sight,
even the moon seems to be out for the night.
As the noise seems to approach me,
I felt a gush of strong wind,
not the usual cold night breeze.
Still, the noise seems to have a mind of its own,
slowly drawing nearer.
Then,
like soft pebbles,
drops of rain poured,
onto the streets,
onto the plants,
into my roof.
It was an extraordinary experience,
waiting for the rain,
waiting for the drops to come pouring from the sky,
for this gift from the dark firmament
to soak the hot sweltering evening.

- 7:55pm, 09 September 2004, Thursday

43 Things

My friend Tanya mentioned about this website where anyone can post their “43 Things”. It’s like a wish list… 43 things you’d like to do in your life. It can be as trivial as “smile everyday” or earth shattering like… hmmm… let’s say “get “married soon”.

Don’t ask me why 43, and not 34 or 50… I still have to look that up. (Send me a note if you want to get the website, or just google it.)

I would like to share with you my very own “43 Things”. I actually did some modifications. Instead of 43, I reduced my list to 31 – each item representing one glorious year of my life. Yes folks! I’m already 31!

You can’t see all 31 items in the list. I just had to edit out some things, hehehe.

1. Learn how to swim
2. Travel to Egypt
3. See the ruins of Pompeii
4. Visit the US
5. Go back to Europe
6. Sing in a lounge bar
7. Buy a camera
8. Learn photography
9. Put up my own art exhibit or photo gallery
10. Go bunjee-jumping
11. Get a dog
12. Read more
13. Finish my thesis
14. Learn to do cartwheels
15. Ride a bike again
16. Learn a foreign language
17. Lose 10 pounds
18. Learn how to dive
19. Put up a business – spa or salon
20. Buy a new car
21. Buy a house in tagaytay or somewhere near the beach
22. Meet ________
23. Have a couple of beers with ________
24. Put up a consultancy firm on HR and OD
25. Meet Carly Simon
26. Watch more movies

So the remaining 5 things, you just have to guess.



9:36 pm
23 March 2006, Thursday
Kuala Lumpur

Sing-kah-poh!

Let’s go to Sing-kah-poh! I love going to Sing-kah-poh!

Sing-kah-poh is a hawker’s place near our place. They serve, of course, mostly Chinese food and some stalls serve Indian food. But everytime I eat there, I order the fried rice with salted fish. I keep forgetting what’s it called in Bahasa. See? It’s that good, I always have temporary amnesia everytime my tongue goes near it. Really yummy! It’s Malaysia’s version of fried rice and tuyo, only better, faaar better. And the serving, man, it’s fit for 2 people. Or, if you’re like me, who sometimes goes on the ‘kain-karpentero’ diet, then this meal is for you!

Now, what does Sing-kah-po mean? It’s actually the name of a country here in Asia. Take a guess… a wild guess. Sirit na? It’s named from one of the hottest country here in Southeast Asia… Singapore!!! Still don’t get it?

Here’s the trick. Pretend you’re Chinese, I mean pure Malaysian-Chinese. Now, try to pronounce Singapore… slowly. Sing... kah…poh! Galing no?

Anyone wants to go to Sing-kah-poh?


18 March 2006
12:49am
Penang

Going oriental – belly dancing

As a result of being a bum for almost 3 months, I decided to realize the first social need of all human beings – self actualization. Yes, my goal is to self-actualize, to be the best of what I can be. So aside from realizing my dream of being the next Van Gogh, I decided to enroll in something I am very interested in.

I love dancing – evident in the a) many Friday nights spent dancing and partying in Xaymaca (a local reggae bar), and b) the many excruciating hours I spent during my childhood dance lessons (ballet, jazz, and hawaiian). In fact, I also enrolled in a jazz dance class a few years back. The thing is, my dance teacher had this habit of always shouting at his students with 2 left feet, i.e. ME! So I said goodbye to him, and his sour temper.

I’ve tried a lot of dance classes – ballet, jazz, Hawaiian, ballroom dance – and somehow, I felt that it was not what I am really good at. In ballet, the ballerina needs to have small boobs and small head. I have a pretty ok-sized head, but I am what you will considered as “well-endowed”. So I decided to say goodbye to my ballerina dreams. Jazz dancing requires the dancer to be flexible and pliable (hehehe, wait, that word is only used for metals, right?). I am not flexible at all! Ballroom dancing requires you to have a dancing partner. Well, too toxic to find an excellent male dancer. Soooo…I decided to enroll in a different kind of dance class – Belly Dancing! Yahoo!

Why not! I think I am pretty much qualified to become a belly dancer – I love dancing, and I have a belly, kinda big actually! Hahaha! Seriously, my dance teacher told us that belly dancing would look good on women with curves in their mid-section. She didn’t say that belly dancers need to have love-handles, but that’s my interpretation. And she allowed me to enroll in her class, didn’t she – me, with all my lovehandles.

According to the internet, belly dancing is also known as Oriental Dance. And is very popular in the middle eastern countries. Well, what do you know, I dream of going to Egypt one day. This may be the first step towards the realization of another dream – embracing the Egyptian culture and traditions! And who knows, I might be able to use my belly dancing skills should I travel to Egypt one day. I can moonlight as a belly dancer outside train stations, giving passers-by the best belly dance performance, in exchange for a few dollars. Hehehe. So oriental! So Gypsy-ish! I am so excited!

I’ve finished the whole belly dancing course – all 6 grueling sessions of swaying, undulating*, and swishing my hips to the beat of oriental music. I loved it! It felt so sexy, so feminine, so empowering!

So the next time you have a lot of free time, extra cash, and a sudden urge to do something different, try belly dancing, and undulate your blues away.


Note:
* Undulate is the rolling, rippling and heaving movement used in belly dancing. The movement is usually concentrated in the mid-section, and causes the belly to rise and fall, resulting in a snakelike movement.


11 March 2006
Sunday
3:45
Penang

Van Gogh wanna-be

I love sunflowers.

I love Van Gogh’s Sunflower.

Looking back, I don’t know if I liked sunflowers because of Van Gogh’s painting, or if I liked Van Gogh’s painting because I liked sunflowers.

In any case, I got hooked on Van Gogh’s paintings. Especially after I visited his museum and got to see his paintings with my own eyes. I started downloading pictures of his paintings in the internet, trying to imitate his artwork through sketches. And mind you, my sketches were not a pretty sight. My version of the chair in one of his paintings (of his room, I think), didn’t look like a chair at all! (see photo).

But since I had this delusion that someday I would be like him, with millions of people admiring my artwork, in my own museum, I decided to take up art classes in January. I actually took art classes 8 years ago. But since my previous boss was a workaholic and wanted his staff to work overtime, and even over the weekend, I was not able to graduate. Damn! My classmates even had medals and certificates!

That class was actually frustrating. Since it was done in the summer, we had a lot of young classmates – as young as 9 years old. And my ego was at its lowest since I could not even draw a vase! It’s like rubbing salt to injury when I took a peek at my 9 year old classmate’s drawing. It was damn good! Far better than mine! Well, I just convinced myself that the kid would be the next Malang of the Philippines.

But as they say, never say never. I would not let a 9-year old art freak step on my dreams of becoming the next Van Gogh. So, I enrolled…again. This time, I chose the weekday classes, Wednesday mornings. For sure there would be no kids attending the class. And if there are, I would convince their parents that primary education is far more important that art classes. I could not afford to let another kid ruin my dream! Bwahaha!

Art class is really fun! Especially with a teacher like ours. (Send me a message if you want to enroll in his class). He always has a good and encouraging word for everyone. One time, while looking at my sketches, during our nude sketching sessions (no, we didn’t sketch in the nude, we had a nude model, hahaha!), he looked at my artwork, and commented, “Ang galing ng sketch mo ah!”. I looked at him incredulously, and thought, this man must be crazy! My sketch didn’t look like a woman at all! It looked like a large log with a large fruit hanging at the end! But hey, he’s a master in art, he really must see something in my work, right? Nonetheless, I was very disappointed with what I did. I wanted to pay my respect to the girl posing as our nude model. It’s not easy literally stripping off all your clothes in front of 20 amateur wanna-be artists. I wanted to make art out of what she is doing, because it is what supposed to be done… art. Unfortunately, no matter how I tried to find the best angle, best lighting and shadow effect, the best pencil, and the best sketchpad, my sketch simply did not look like her. Maybe my forte is in abstract art. Can’t wait for our lesson in abstract!

I can’t let the small things bother me. I believe that I am an artist! I would not let comments of my teacher’s assistant like, “Anong nangyari sa vase mo, binagyo?” get to me. They don’t realize my potentials! They don’t know art! They don’t know that I’m the next Van Gogh! (Come to think of it, Van Gogh didn’t become famous until he became crazy, cut his ears and died. Morbid, morbid thoughts! I love my ears!!!)

In the basic art class, we were able to do pencil sketching, shading, pentel pen sketches, craypas drawings, and watercolor. I liked craypas best. You’re supposed to color the paper with full force, in order to completely cover the paper. It’s a good therapy, I tell you. Just think of all the things that pisses you off, and you will never notice that you actually have covered your whole sketch page with color! – red for blood, green for bile, black for misery.

After several Wednesdays of pure concentration and sheer determination, I was able to graduate! Yahoo! Finally, the first step to my dream of becoming the next Van Gogh! I am victorious!

My fearless forecast? I would be busy the next few years doing artwork for my exhibit, for my art patrons, for my future museum. So if I were you, you should immediately commission me for an artwork. I will be the next hot thing in art! I will be famous! I will be the next Van Gogh! Bwahaha!!!

Disclaimer:
The author is not morally and socially responsible for any statements written in this blog entry. It was not her who wrote the article, it was her delusional, evil, self-consumed twin sister, psychologically traumatized because of the still-unfulfilled dream of becoming a visual artist. Rest assured that the evil twin sister is being psychologically counseled and treated for her delusions.


05 March 2006
8:05pm
Penang

Sino ang bampira?

People kept asking me, “Bakit ‘bampira-ako’ ang blogspot mo?”. On hindsight, I should have written this article as my debut blog entry.

I’ve been using bampira since I became hooked on mIRC back in 1997. The chat rooms during that time were pretty much matino, with sense. Maybe because not everyone has internet access during that time. Now, even manong guard has access to the internet, and may be your cyber-boyfriend/pal/soulmate. Who knows?

Anyways, back to bampira. I used bampira as my nick. I wanted a name with a character. A strong character, able to transform not just oneself, but is able to transform other people as well (well, after the third bite, that is). I also wanted a character which has power, mystery and a certain darkness to its persona. Thus, the nickname, Bampira.

I hope you continue to read my blog entries so you can be one of my victims, transforming you into someone you have never imagined. And as a true vampire would say, “Drink from me and you will live forever.”

MY PRECIOUS STONES – The gallstone experience

So there they were, inside a small translucent plastic container, staring at me, perhaps with a feeling of anxiety due to our sudden separation. I’ve nursed them for more than 4 years now, carefully choosing what I eat, how much I drink. Then suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of both sadness and ecstasy. Finally, they were liberated, now out in the world for everyone to see. Most people just can’t appreciate things unless they see it, you see. Now, everyone can see them, and they will be the testament of my personal struggle for the past years.

I’m not talking about babies or whatever, I’m talking about my gallstones, my precious stones. I was diagnosed by my Internist some years ago. Due to the prodding of a doctor friend, who I incidentally lost contact with already, I visited my internist. The doctor-friend told me, the symptoms I was experiencing (colic-like pains, feeling of nausea, stabbing pains in my upper abdomen) were signs of gallstones. What the heck, just to prove him that he was wrong, and that internal medicine was not his forte (we were already falling apart during those times), I went to an internist, underwent ultrasound, and viola!... there they were! 2 small stones in my gallbladder. My twins!

Come to think of it, I never got to thank the doctor-friend. Well, life was not a bed of roses with him, so I guess I just deserved this bit of information about my gallstones, free consultation if you may say. They say that people come into your life for a reason, maybe this is his – to tell me that I have gallstones. That suits me well, he has at least saved me from future medical incidents, like this condition where the gallstones get stuck in the opening of your gallbladder, and gets really really swollen and infected, making you puke like hell, and makes your eyes and skin turn yellow. I cant remember the medical term, I’m not very good at that.

Anyways, back to my babies. So for more than 4 years, I have convinced myself that my precious stones need not be extracted out, after all, I am a mature and responsible individual, I can control what I eat and drink, cant I? Well, it turned out I was partly successful – I tried to stay away from oily food (bye bye sisig, liempo, chicharon and bulalo). But what I cant give up is the fermented malt, which is found in San Miguel’s primary product, sigh.

So years after years, I tried going to different Internists (doctors specializing on Internal Medicine), hoping to find a single doctor who will give me a quick fix. Something like an elixir I could drink, and the precious stones would miraculously disappear, or at least passed through some bodily excretions. But to no avail! They were all involved in this conspiracy, telling me that I should have it removed surgically, especially that my attacks were getting more frequent – average of 2 attacks per month. And I cant tell you how it feels to have an attack. Its like giving birth (I think), only much worse (this theory I have to prove yet. I’ll get back to you after I experience giving birth hehehe). Because in giving birth, you know that you will be bringing to life someone. During a gallstone attack, all I can see are my precious stones dancing away and doing body slam with each other, soaking in the green bile they love so much. Yuck!

But surgery? No way! I have not been confined in a hospital, not once in my life. And this one experience, I can easily pass up, no thanks!

But then, I think the natural course of things is that when things have to go, they really have to go. I have this project outside the Philippines, which will necessitate me to be away for 6 long months. And this country that I’m going to, man, they have REALLY good food, and they love to see their food swimming either in oil, chili or curry. So, instead of experiencing my gallstones freak out in a really wild party, I decided to go for the surgery.

I went to FEU, it was the nearest to my house. Found a decent-looking doctor. Found that he was a PGH graduate. I heaved a sigh of relief after seeing that. Not that I’m too loyal and impressed with UP grads, its just that I know how UP grads think of themselves – they think of themselves as the best in their field (this might be purely perception, may I remind you). This surgeon might be someone who will never allow failure in whatever he does.

But I was not satisfied with the diploma I saw hanging in his clinic, I surfed information about him. I did not get much except that he really is a PGH graduate, a member of this medical fraternity in UP Manila, and had his braces late in life (hahaha! I saw this info in one of his batchmates’ blogspot. Tsk tsk, the information you can surf in the web).

Being the hypochondriac that I am, I also surfed about the procedure that I will be undergoing – Laparoscopic Cholecystectomy or lap chole. As opposed to the open chole, where they will slice you up, this procedure is less invasive. The surgeons will just make 4 small slits, which is fine with me. Since I am a keloid former, I do not want to have 4 blackened thick scars on my stomach! Accuse me of vanity, but I’m sure you’ll make the same choice given my situation. And so I discussed this with my surgeon, asking him about keloids and injury to the common bile duct. I felt powerful with the new information that I have.

So in February 10, I went to the hospital, had several tests, and was finally ready for operation the following day. I can still vividly picture it in my mind… at 1:30pm, the nurse and the orderly went to my room and asked me to lie down in the bed with wheels. The nurse injected (very painfully) a sedative, hoping to calm my nerves. Oh, I became calm alright, the fuzzy feeling was soooo perfect, like how you will feel after downing 4 or 5 bottles of beer.

I got into the OR, where Phil Collins was blazing from the speakers. Fine with me, I even sang a few lines. Then I noticed this really cute doctor, was not sure if he was already a surgeon, he looked too young to be one. Maybe a Resident Doctor of Surgery, I decided. Maybe he noticed that I was not getting sleepy at all. He asked me a few friendly questions, and finally asked me if I’m not sleepy, and that it’s all right if I rest and sleep. I did not bother to inform him that I’m used to keeping my eyes wide open even after several bottles of beer. I looked at the wall clock, I saw that it was already 3pm! It has been 1 ½ hours after I had the sedative, and I’m still awake!

Finally, after a few minutes, they might have decided to give up on the hopes that the sedatives would wear me down (hah! I succeeded in staying awake, thanks to San Mig Light!), they injected through my IV this liquid, which I guessed was the anesthesia. They also covered my mouth with the oxygen mask. The chemical odor from the mask was not pleasant. Cant remember how it smells like, but I know I’ve handled it in my Chem 16 class. Or maybe it was Ether from Bio 11? No, that was for frogs.

After more than 2 hours of operation, and 3 hours in the recovery room, I was wheeled into my room around 9pm. I distinctly remember the nurse telling my mom that I can eat anything, no more fasting. I am allowed to have full meals! HAHAHA! Liberation! Freedom! Kalayaan! I will finally be reunited with the evils of the food kingdom – fats and oil.

I woke up midnight, with a very uncomfortable feeling – a strange pressure in my stomach, hurting wounds, and bruised internal organs (I think). But when I looked over my side table, I found the plastic container with my precious stones. There were not 2 stones, there were around 20 stones! I have cared for them too much, that they multiplied tenfolds! And maybe like what mothers feel after giving birth, I knew the pain that I feel was well worth it. My precious stones’ liberation is freedom for me as well. Goodbye low fat meals, hello porky pig!

6:43pm
14 February 2006

boylet

this i wrote years ago (3rd quarter, 2003) ... just had this urge to write it... i was actually surprised when i saw the article circulated through email, although some parts were edited.


BOYLET

(para kay unkid)


Vocabulary:
boy - n. a male child from birth to puberty
-let - n suffix small one


"Ano ba ibig sabihin ng boylet?"

Tanong yan sa akin ng isang boylet. Pero ano nga ba ang ibig sabihin ng 'boylet'? Ewan ko ba, pero napulot ko yan sa mga baklakekok kong kaibigan. "Ate, yummy ang boylet mo." "Bakla, saan ba may boylet dito?" Pero kung talagang pag-iisipan, mahirap ma-define ang boylet. Ito ba'y dahil sa age? Sa maturity? Sa height? Sa looks?

Ang boylet, kailangang bata, or at least, ka-age mo. Kasi pag mas matanda ng ilang taon, hindi na boylet yon, tander-cat na. As in tanders. Tanders from matanda -- matanders -- tanders -- tander-cat (origin – thundercat). Grabe ang evolution ng mga salita, di ba?

Dapat din daw, ang boylet, hindi mo boyfriend, pero hindi lang din friend. So, ibig sabihin, napakalalim ng kahulugan ng "-let" sa suffix sa boylet. Biro mo, ang "-let" ang nag-define ng isang relasyon na mas malalim, at malamang mas intimate sa friendship, pero less committed at non-exclusive kung ikukumpara sa boyfriend. Tsk, tatlong letra lang yan, pero it makes a world of difference. Kaya ang isang boy, para maging boylet, kailangang maging isang tao, na kayang tumawid sa pagitan ng pagiging isang boyfriend o lover, at isang kaibigan.

So pwede din ba gamitin ang "-let" sa mga tander-cats? Hmmm… parang masagwa -- tander-lets? Tander-cat-lets? Kasi naman pag tander-cats, mas malamang na naghahanap ng isang relasyon na hindi passing fancy lang. Pero hindi yan generalization, okay? Madami pa din namang mga tander-cats na isip-boylet. So, anong tawag natin sa kanila? Closet-boylets? Ay, ambot!

Ano pa ang distinguishing factor ng isang boylet? Sabi ng isang kaibigan na nagkaroon na ng relasyon mula sa both ends of the continuum -- from the youngest of boylets to super tander-cats, ang boylet, fling lang daw. Kapag naging seryoso ang relasyon o "arrangement" sa isang boylet, pwede nang tanggalin ang suffix na "-let" at palitan ng salitang "friend". But it is not necessarily true na promotion sa boylet ang pagiging boyfriend. Isipin mo yon, pag may boyfriend ka na, bawal na ang mga boylets. Eh kung puro boylets lang, walang hassles, walang guilt involved, kasi nga, ang "-let" ang sasalba sa iyo. Ang "-let" ang nagsasabi na hindi naman kayo exclusive sa isa't-isa. Ang galing talaga ng "-let"! Pwede din kaya itong gamitin sa ibang salita? Halimbawa, kung itatanong sa iyo ng jowa mo, "Do you love me?" Ang problema, hindi ka sigurado kung anong isasagot. Isipin mo, pag sinabi mong 'yes', sangkatutak na exclusivity na yan. Pag naman 'no', aba, eh, baka mag-isip ang jowa mo at iwan ka. So, pwede bang "yes-let" ang isagot? Ang "-let" na lang uli ang bahala to fill in the gaps. Ibig sabihin pag 'yes-let', oo, love kita ngayon, pero may possibility na bawiin ko in the future. O kaya naman, oo, love naman kita, pero pwede pa ba akong humirit ng one last boylet?

Boylet… boy na maliit o cute? Di ba’t ang ibig sabihin ng suffix na “-let” at cute o naman kaya’y maliit? Parang islet, maliit na island; booklet, maigsi o manipis na compilation ng materials. Hindi naman kasi magandang pakinggan kung tatawagin silang mini-boys. Mas maganda at endearing nga ang tunog ng boylet, parang honeylet.

Pero pano naman pala ang tawag sa girl version ng mga boylet? Girlet? Parang hindi akma. Mas maganda siguro kung girlash. Pero hindi nito ganap na mailalarawan kung ano ang essence ng pagiging quasi-gf, semi-friend. So, in short, sa mga boys lang pwedeng magkaroon ng suffix na “-let”, ganon ba yon? Baka naman kasi ibang suffix ang angkop sa mga girls.

Kung ikaw ang mamimili, ano ang mas gusto mo, isang boylet na nagpapaka-tanders, o isang tander-cat na nagpapaka-boylet? Magulong isipin, pero ang isang boylet na nagpapaka-tandercat ay yung tipong pa-mature effect. Ang dami kunwaring angst sa buhay, pinapalaki ang pinakamaliit na issue – para nga naman makasabay sya sa lahat ng angst ng nakakatandang babae. Insecurity siguro ng mga boylet, o maaari rin namang mature na talaga, pero hindi natin malalaman, unless, gusto mong makilala ng masinsinan ang boylet mo. Ang mga tandercats naman na nagpapaka-boylet ay yung mga feeling groovy at w-a-a-a-y-y C-O-O-L, na kadalasan ay hindi naman talaga, nagpupumilit lang. Maaari din naman na sila yung mga tandercats na may mental age ng isang 15-yr old. Ito ang isang proof na may mga taong walang pinagkatandaan, at ang emotional at mental age ng tao ay ibang-iba sa biological age.

Ang isa pang tanong, gaano ka-boylet ang kaya mo, kung baga sa low-waist pants, how low can you go? Basta siguraduhin na above 18 ang boylet, kundi, sa kalaboso ang bagsak mo, statutory rape yon, kung di mo alam. 3 years? 4, 5, 6? Depende naman talaga sa iyo yan. Pero isipin mo lang na kung 9 years ang gap nyo, aba ineng, nung pinanganak sya ay may monthly period ka na! Hindi ba kapangi-pangilabot yon? Pero kung kaya mo, o ‘carry’ mo, ika nga ng aking mga bading na kaibigan, eh di sige, magpakadalubhasa sa pangangarir ng mga boylet. I-career! At bakit hindi? Ilan pa lamang ang may MA at PhD degree sa Boylet Affairs Management.

Pero bakit nga ba natin kailangan ng mga boylet? Sabi ng isang kaibigan, gusto nyang ma-re-affirm na sya ay may asim pa. Suggestion ko lang, pwede naman litmus test na lang for acidity ang gamitin, di ba? Yung iba naman, pantawid-gutom daw. Ano ang akala nila sa mga boylet, mini-cup na pansit canton? Yung iba naman, just so they’ll feel alive again daw, to feel young, fresh and to get their groove back. Aside from botox treatment, napakadami pang mga services ni Dra. Vicky ang pwede para magmukha at maging feeling young.

Pasalamat tayo at nandyan sila – para magbigay ng kasiyahan, company, aliw, o kung ano pa man. Sa dami ng mga benefits na dinadala ng mga boylets na ito sa ating buhay, gusto ko lang magbigay ng pugay sa kanila. Mabuhay ang mga boylet, dakila kayo! Go forth and multiply!




little_shepherd2003@yahoo.com

tattoo

i've always wanted to get a tattoo, but somehow, something always goes wrong, and i end up not having one.

so here, out of obsession for tattoos, here's my henna version. its a chinese character which means Summer. no, its not because i got it during the summer season (although i had this character tattooed on me in galera 2 summers ago). it's my favorite pamangkin's name (as if i have a choice, i only have 1 pamangkin so far).

sya, will post other blogs soon. keep checking this site, ok?

later! :)