Of Men and (of) Mice

Time off meme.

Apologies to steinbeck, but after the things that happened to me in the past week, I can now only categorize people in two: men and mice.

The kind that I refer to as mice are the ones that have made my week less than appealing to talk about. But I will rant about them anyway. They are the kind people I have tried to help rise from the deep shits of their own making, yet because they are mice and are terribly shortsighted, myopic even, they not only forget those who help them. Worse, they gnaw and sink their razor-like poisoned teeth in you and kill you with their toxins. They appear adorable on the outside but they have innards that a stray can't wont even think of getting near into, lest she wants to die herself. And I abhor them with all that I can muster. Yet I must have to co-exist with them, at work particularly.

Is it me? Or are there are simply too many assholes on earth? Is it human to act up on your defense when you feel you're being slighted and thrown at with crap? It isn't just right. I'd like to pepper these morons with bullets to the very core of their being, so they will not have to bother me with their cheapskate pathetic presence anymore.

And then there are men. They are angels that never found their way back to heaven but they have golden hearts that can make you look at your sinful self in shame. They inspire you to be better and kinder and more considerate. Until you bump into your next mouse again. Sadly, they are beginning to fade to extinction. And there's no saving them.

Even the pied piper cannot do as much. What a crappy day for a crappy blog.

My Bambino

my bambino at 8 months. 

Meme2

21.I have plenty of books. Some of them are rare prints, which I delightedly dug out from the flea markets. They are mostly classics, but I indulge in a few children’s series like Harry Potter and Lemony Snickett.

22. My next goal is to complete my set of Tales of Narnia (CS Lewis) although I’m still a bit heady with the triumph of his friend’s books LOTR(Tolkien)

23. I tend to be self-effacing at all times. I love to disappear in the woodwork if possible.

24. That’s because I’m not comfortable being candidly looked upon or given a lot of attention.

25. Which means I am painfully shy. So much so that it impedes me from being understood by people.

26. I don’t know when I will ever overcome my shyness.

27. I have a morbid fear of rodents especially snakes. Big time.

28. I love jazz music.

29. My favorite singer as a child was Stevie Wonder. . I thought he was a beautiful person in spite of his blindness.

30. The color I am most comfortable with is pale yellow.

31. I think the French are the coolest persons on earth.

32. But I think the blacks are the grooviest.

33. Sometimes I am not proud of my heritage.

34. I wish every Filipino had a stronger sense of history, hindsight and foresight.

35. But I think we are well loved in every corner of the world, except Australia.

36. I used to like Aussies, but now I think some of them are bigots.

37. But saying that I am being bigoted myself.

38. I don’t care.

39. I thought I would never marry. But I did. At age 30. Just about time.

40. I married a man five years my junior.

The So-called Hundred Things

I have belatedly thought about writing the 100 Things About Me meme. Well, anyway, here goes. This will come in installments. Twenty each day for five days. The first twenty so and so things about ME…..

1.I’m 5’1” small, black hair, black eyes, brown skin

2.I know that I’m not what you may call beautiful today. But I’ve always been told I was a pretty child. I don’t know what happened in between the 10th and 30th years.

3.I loved reciting poems in front of the mirror when I was a little girl.

4.I grew up sleeping in my own house and having meals at my grandmother’s house, day in and day out.

5.I love to watch the wet leaves glimmer at night after a rainfall.

6.I always thought Sunday was the saddest day of the week. It felt like the end of the world.

7.I talk in my sleep. Always.

8.I was perpetually haunted with nightmares about witches and gargoyles when I was a kid. That’s because I didn’t pray hard said my grandma. But no matter how many dozen holy names I invoke in my nightly prayers, I always end up being chased by the hideous gargoyles and shrieking witches. They never caught me.

9.I love to read poetry.

10.I love to write poetry.

11.I have an angel kisses birthmark on my nape.

12.I want my guardian angel to show herself before me.

13.I wonder what it’s like being made love to. By an incubus.

14.As a young girl, I always grew my hair waistlong in the rainy season, and cut it short like a boy’s bob in the summer. For no practical or particular reason.

15.I always thought there was something wrong with my old folks. Then I discovered my grandfather had a disturbing character in him. He was an artist. I will not tell what I discovered.

16.My grandmother hated me for being my grandfather’s favorite.

17.I hated my grandfather for my grandmother’s resentment.

18.I hated them both. They’re long dead.

19.I am married with one son.

20.My son is the most important person in the world to me now, next to of course,God.

Being Pinoy

Seems to me being a Filipino is not too bad after all. These past weeks I've seen 3 or 4 Pinoys, a couple of them being half-breeds, that have been basking in the limelight of global scope. I mean it's not that we've not had any big names up there before, there's Leah Salonga for one, but a class act from a so-called third rate country like us, is almost always hard to come by. So, it makes for a fresh source of pride and inspiration when we hear of Pinoys making the leaps and bounds every now and then in the international scene. Anyways...

The two half-breeds are finalists in the American Idol contest, Jasmine Trias and Camile Velasco. Both grew up and are based in Hawaii. For the record, I don't normally ogle into these kinds of voyeur stuff about the blesseds and beautifuls, I just happened to walk past it while channel-surfing one a boring day, the day when I was nursing a horrible flu (still am) and had nothing better to do.

It was a marathon run of all AI episodes, from day one of audition, down to the finals where only 8 hopefuls remained. Well, I didn't regret spending the rest of the afternoon glued to AI, watching these two cute-as-a-button girls with impressive singing prowess. And my, what a following they have.

I particularly liked Camile because of her unique demeanor, there was both a perpetual smile and an impassioned writhing across her face when she sings. From my point of view, and in spite of her american twang, she's all filipino to me. Sadly, she was voted out around April. It was her nerves that got the better of her. But Paula Abdul, one the judges who make critiques of their weekly performances, advised her to move up to the West Coast and try the recording industry. I guess with the talent and face like hers, sans the nerves, every door of opportunity will gladly open at her beckon...

Meanwhile Jasmine is now in the remaining four final contenders (two blacks, one white, one amerasian). Which means she's having a field day. Win or lose, I'm very sure she's going to be a great pretty kickass with a honey voice, in Hollywood.

The other one I'm talking about is Manny Pacquiao. I didn't use to think much of this guy, having seen him fight in a local arena. With the corn-coloured highlight on his hair, an ugly tattoo, that pubescent moustache that seemed out of place, and to top it all a sloppy stance in the boxing ring, I dismissed him as one of the hopeful provincianos who'll be a one-hit wonder and will eventually be lost in obscurity someday. But I was much too wrong.

The Manny I saw fight last Sunday in Las Vegas opposite the hardrock Marquez of Mexico--well, he was just unstoppable. I probably still think he didn't have the class of a Marquez, his hands were all over the place compared to the very controlled movements of his opponent, but he took blows in and out with the bravest of heart. He floored Marquez three times in the first round, I thought that was the end of it, but owing to the technical rules which I don't care to know about, the fight dragged on to the last 12th round.

Cramps, blisters and all, it was only later in an interview that we learned of Manny's torture and heroism while trying in every round to knock his opponent down, and not forgetting to ask for divine intervention. The game ended in a draw, a fate I guess worse than death, it being a consolation for both boxers to at least not have lost. In his broken english, he said it was all for country. And it would be a shame not to give him the respect he long overdue deserves.

Last, is a Major General who authored the analysis report on the alleged abuses of Iraqi detainees in a US-kept prison in Al Gharaib. I saw him only in a CNN live feed of the US senate hearing over the issue, where he was asked to testify and answer queries about his investigations. Well, you guessed it, he's Filipino although by citizenship he's whiter than white. I don't mean that in a derogatory way. His name is Antonio Taguba, second highest ranking Fil-Am officer in the Pentagon.

In that hearing, he was to be seen as sitting upright, relaxed but very attentive, answering all questions thrown at him with candor, great insight, intelligence, direct sentences with no loose ends. It was not only once or twice that he was candidly praised by senators, both democrat and republicans, in spite of their partisan bunglings,for his honesty, bravery---it was almost overwhelming to hear it, but he took everything in stride, and smiled with a half-smile as if to say thank you but let's get on with this...It was just so humbling to know he's Pinoy.

Well, we're not such a sorry lot after all...That satiates my week comfortably until I know who the next president will be. Ta.

From Chubby

The love of human beings was the one value of the world.
I could not believe that it vanished. I could not believe that
suffering and anguish were meaningless. I would have liked
to have journeyed all around the world, and lived for all time,
and heard all the woes and all the loves of every man that lived.
Each tale would be so beautiful...
Each would be so painful....

from my erstwhile friend a j luzon

Sprout Eyes, Each to Each

Today is the day I opened my sprout eyes to the world, each eye to each eye saying, wow we got here. That was three decades and three years ago...

Fast-forward to today.

Well, what else is there to look forward to when one celebrates her 33rd birthday? Not much I suppose, apart from my usual reluctance to earn another fine line on my forehead.

I just came back from a sumptous lunch with my officemates from Dencio's. This is our favourite place to go when we're looking for quality Filipino food on a budget purse. The boys had been ribbing me since last week to a lunch blowout on my birthday. And today, there's no escaping it. I have been known in our circle as the miser, and I've always managed to make being married and raising a kid an excuse for my penny-pinching. Somehow they don't always buy it..

So yes, I've turned 33 today. Oliver mentioned something about me being the age of Jesus when He died. I laughed it off as another of his nonsense jokes, but secretly I gave it some thought afterwards. What have I done these past three decades to be the person that I am now? Have I , like the Jesus that we know, been a good child, a thoughtful sister, a supportive wife, and a protective mother? Or am I, in my long-winded soliloquys, ready at last to say I can die for my son? I can only guess. I have at one time or another expressed my apprehension about staying alive long enough to see my son ready to face and endure the rigors of this harsh world, and God knows how terrified I am at the thought of dying an untimely death..

There are times when I get lost in the obscurity of my own very ordinary life. I have no major accomplishments to speak of. My only claim to fame is that I have been a pretty tough person in the face of the many adversities in my so-called life. But come to think of it, others have been in the same boat and worse!

Does my daily acts of courage and tender regard for others then make me an everyday heroine worthy to emulate?

Drat, I don't like to be spending another birthday and making these same godawful guesswork...