IngliseraKuno

It is terrible time to hear or read hurtful words; 'you present to me a half-baked, half-hearted life', or 'you absolutely have no place in the future' and 'freakshow'. I took those like bullets, hitting my heart directly. So swift, straight and clean, shot through my core, if they were real bullets, death would be certain. It is perhaps the words are true, hence, hurtful. Or maybe not, hence I feel like I was shot dead. I look back at the things I have done, and have not. Yes, my life is a 'middle-ground', of 'in-betweens', of compromises. I recall my son telling me once, he does not burn bridges. He told me he would rather stay in the middle of the bridge, so that he would be 'neutral', let things be. I replied almost immediately that it is not a good idea, because all my life, I told him, I stayed safe. And look at me now. Caught in the middle of everything, always pleasing others, concerned about how others' perception, and al...

For some reason, Christmas depresses me. I know. 'Tis the season to be jolly, the song goes. And yes, this is a season to celebrate the birth of the One who was born to teach us everything about love. Everywhere I go, I hear Christmas carols, I trees lit and adorned with trinkets which evolved from the traditional trimmings to the recycled dried fruits & vegetables, tree barks and branches and even contraceptives. Children go house to house and sing carols in monotone, not knowing the lyrics to the Christmas songs, stop midway and leave once the precious coins are handed. The only clear part of the carolling is '..thank you, thank you, and babait ninyo, thank you!'. Many are out in the streets, enjoying what festivities there are. This is also the time it is uncomfortably cold, the breeze clawing into your bones. I can't remember a Christmas when I was not down with fever. Sigh. Maybe it is the thought that another year is about to end, and I am getting older. O...

I had an interesting week before accepting that it is now December. Another year is about to be over, and it seems like it went by so fast. Each month was marked by joy, sorrow, helplessness, anxiety, sewn together by a myriad of emotions that one who would have watched my life like a movie would probably leave the theater and say, 'I'm glad that torturous drama is over.' I can actually hear the comments on the sidelines: 'The f--k did she do that for?'; or 'Oh that is so stupid of her, to make that decision.'; or 'Ok, now she is overdoing it, she is desperately seeking for attention.'; or 'She is a bi--ch, this woman.'; or 'She is so pitiful this woman.'; and of course, the perennial 'If I were in her place, I would....'. Exactly. If others would be in my place. I honestly put on a rewind, my life, in my brain. This year perhaps the most intense rewind of all time. And I asked myself the same questions my  imaginary viewe...

Her independence struck me the most. The stories I heard from her father about her already gave me a glimpse of who she is. I saw her when she was just a little girl in our hometown, but after that no opportunities came up to actually meet her. I did one day, with her coming straight from the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around her frail, thin body. She did not say 'hello', instead said, 'I'm underdressed.' I half-waved to acknowledge her. After that meeting, we sort of 'graduated' to kisses. And beauty tips (we both like the same make-up and other vanity stuff). She does not complain much about her life. She goes to her work, well most times with difficulty. A call center agent cannot do much but go to work on the schedule given. Which is so ridiculous, I admire all of them for turning their body clocks inversely just to take calls from people who live in different time zones with weird accents having problems with their wifi, their fax machines (they...

The nurse, Jeffrey, and the two orderlies came at around 11 in the morning to wheel Aidan to the operating room. Before that, Aidan and I were just fooling around, deflecting the fear there was in both our hearts. As usual I was toying with my phone, as he was too, requesting for another round of the game played by everyone except me, Clash of Clans. My heart stopped when Aidan got ready, my stomach constricting in tension, pretty much like when one rides a ferris wheel. We made our way towards the elevator, and I put my hand on Aidan's chest. I asked, 'are your nervous?'. He said, 'yes mom'. By the door of the operating room, I kissed his forehead and told him I love him. Before the door closed, I said, 'bye kiddo!, will be here when you wake up!'. He flashed a thumbs-up.  I wanted to walk all the way in, but I knew it would be a cause for alarm (you know, security people might be summoned to remove me, haha) so I opted to take one of the seats lined up...

A friend-recently-turned-sister, described my blogs, 'brave and honest' yesterday. That made me think twice. For one thing, I have not been told before in my life that I am (my blogs are my thoughts written in the most raw of forms), well, brave and honest. I am weak, vulnerable and a 'compromise'-embracing person. And honest? How do you describe way too much of honesty? Another person, almost at the same time, told me not to write about my life, because my life, he says, is open to scrutiny, hence people will not understand all my blabber and my accounts will eventually be 'used' to destroy me. Or something to that effect. Anyway, the stubborn person that I am, as my other friend-my-sister-for-life aptly put it, I want more in this life than just 'this', whatever 'this' is. I create a void, she said, an emptiness, because I tell myself I am not content, I am empty. I asked her, 'when do we stop?'. She said, 'we stop when start hu...

Since I am on a roll, let me start by saying beer is a good way of ending two days of self-pity, unending drama, and a blood pressure of 160/100. Note that I say, 'ending' because I have decided this afternoon to cut yet another episode of my life's version of 'In Pursuit of Happyness'. Of course to say that I can turn off the flash of raw emotions, of kick-ass blows to the conscience, of the seesaw of regret and liberation, is hypocrisy at its highest. All are still there lurking inside me. But I chose to see the light. I started the two gruelling days of holding in the screams in my chest until I felt literally about to burst. The best place a friend of mine suggested for me to feel better was the church. So we went. And the proper person I am (only when I am in the middle of an episode that I am, really), I waited to be seated on a pew, and started crying in front of the altar. It was the first time my friend saw me cry, so she held my hand and pushed a hanky...

I begin the preChristmas spirit of glee supposedly much like observing Lent. This a time when reflections are forced on me, triggered by the sudden change in the person I least expected. Makes me wonder if after decades of  knowing this person (I assume), what happened? I know of the challenges he has faced, he told me. Validated of course by what I have seen, and through it all, he always seemed to have learned the lessons brought by the challenges. I know him to be kind, the one you would know who has a good heart he successfully deflects by tough guy bravado. I have seen the soft side, his sensitivity to the needs of others, his efforts to compensate for his absence in his children's lives by simply being there to mark milestones with them. He hands a few bills to this lady in his neighborhood who was left living alone by her children, explaining to me that it was to tide her over for another day of no food. When poor street kids visit his home, he looks for some odd job for the...

The perils of self-indulgence. I have been told many times, to love myself more. My friends, those who truly know me and my life remind me I have given my all to others for so long, it is time to check on myself. They say I deserve it. A close friend, Michael, is one of those who see beyond me. For three years, while working together, perhaps from our after-hour conversations, he told me he has come to a conclusion that despite the nasty stuff attached to my name (some true but hugely exagerrated), I have a 'beautiful soul'. Even the card readers, the resident 'manghuhula' or psychics, have said, I have a good heart. Who would not want to believe that? After what I have done to my life? I had the most acceptable and society-sanctioned excuse, I was (and still am) my family's go-to girl. The typical breadwinner, crossbearer and the self-flagellating member of a Filipino family, who would fit straight into a character in the telenovelas jerking tears from an audie...

Their names are etched on marble, now more pronounced,  as years of degradation has rendered these names unseen. We had them repainted and cleaned in time for the yearly tradition of remembering those who passed on. As usual, we went to visit a day before the typical. For some reason, we would rather be there to pay our respects to our departed with some privacy. The tradition has evolved through time such that it has become an opportunity to eat, drink and be merry, Filipino style. Given our propensity to overdo things, we all know that before the sun sets, more than a handful of men (even women) would have to be literally be carried home for having one too many. Or worse, a handful would have already gotten into fistfights over some petty thing. The worst is when someone decides to put up a videoke machine and start singing 'My Way', for all the people to hear.  Candles and flowers we lit earlier are probably on another departed soul's place now. The baskets and bunch of ...

And so today, Aidan and I practiced for the first time, the results of my 'rethinking' regarding my insistence on being 'merged' with his life. Faculty of the Carl Jung Circle Center devoted half of a day discussing the 'mama's boy' syndrome. The discussions were interesting as my collagues in the course referred to their husbands  and the mothers-in-law when making a point. I however projected the discussion on me, and my relationship with my son.  Since my son was about 6 or 7 years old, (Ate Ana was 14), I left home to work in this 'kingdom far far away' province and became a weekend mom. I helped with their homework via short/text messages; I made it a point they ate properly, and other mommy stuff, through this magnificent invention called the mobile phone. My kids coped with the situation, they are smart kids, and very patient. They got used to the set-up, not as a matter of choice. I think the important thing to both of them is that they h...

He allegedly said, 'wow, your facebook posts seem you are all perfect.' That's referring to my sister's posts, with me. Because I have vowed I will be from now on passive about these things, I will let that be. But I just want to put it out there, that nope, I have never pretended on facebook about my life, because it is far from perfect. I have a crazy life, in fact, but I choose to project the good there is in it, rather than the 'not good', (the term 'bad' is a big word). Moreso, I post too much negativity on my page, on the contrary, that to say it is pretentious is, well, stupid. Anyway, I wrote about my five truths in my last blog, those which I was 'forced' to ackowledge. The sharings /sessions, if you please, with the faculty of the Carl Jung Circle Center (read: psychiatrists) afforded me insights on these truths.  On my first truth, that I am a 'trying hard' mom, they note that my tendencies to be 'overcompensating...

I have not written anything in a while. I draw 'inspiration' to write from random things, like a sentence said by another that would switch on my 'deep-thinking-light' in this crazy brain, or the sun and the lush mountains I see along the way when I travel (which is most of the time), and when someone special celebrates a birthday, a milestone. I look at my blog as my 'mood/phase' meter. When I do write, my fingers get a life of their own and type generally three or four 'moods' or 'phases' I am in; ranting/crazy/annoyed; grateful/looking-up/spiritual; sentimemtal/cheesy; content/happy/ecstatic. I add 'discovery' to these now as I am in this 'Exploring The Self' course, based on the theories of Carl Jung. I already had a taste of this course when I went to this one-day workshop on Jung, of course just to 'comply' with the requirements of the job. Managers are supposed to know these things; the persona, the shadow and o...

I was on my home from Ilocos Norte on friday in the middle of August last year when I got this frantic call from my bestie Rommel. In between sniffles, he broke to me the news that an order from our central office was just issued assigning me to a new post in Ilocos Sur, the nearby province. After verifying with my sources, it was indeed official. I was in shock, I did not see that coming. But hindsight I suppose I felt it, as one of the last official speeches I made in Ilocos Norte was about accepting and embracing change. We were in the middle of 'rationalizing' the bureacracy, read: forcing people to retire to streamline the organization. It was a troubling and uncertain phase, and I wanted to be there to see through this transition for my colleagues in Ilocos Norte, with whom I have worked with for almost six years. I called on the gods. I pleaded with them, as a last-ditch effort, not to reassign me. Of course, I knew then that whatever I did, whoever I called, I had to ...

So I was in this usual late-night conversation with a good friend, and I was feeling like I was going to fall off my chair. Literally. I felt whoozy, then a major headache started to set in. I did not think it was something to be worried about, I have episodes like that every now and then. I decided to say goodnight, just the same. Went in my room and took my blood pressure (I have a monitor for that), and in words of Al Pacino in 'Scent Of A Woman', whoa! I was hypertensive. My hand automatically grabbed my mobile and my fingers pressed the dial for my doctor and friend. Now this guy, I need to write a separate blog about because he is one of the most amazing people I have met in my life. Anyway, he answered in a sleepy tone so I said, 'sorry, doc, but my blood pressure is high, what do I do? I don't want to die without you here. I ate a loooottt tonight and crabs at that...'. I was babbling on and on. He calmly said, 'ang galing' (to my eating a lot, ...

From the other aisle of the warehouse-type grocery, I would hear her looking for me, yelling, 'Maaaa...'. I would say, 'Yeah, anak?'. And sensing where I was at, she would run towards me hiding something behind her and would ask with those chinky eyes, 'Kasya pa money mo? Puede pabili nito? (You have enough money? Can I buy this?)'. Then she would show me cup gelatins, her favorite. Of course I could not say no. I would make a quick mental calculation of how much I still have in my wallet, lest I would be forced to leave other groceries at the counter. At four or five years old, going to the grocery with me was an adventure to Ana. It was playtime, where she would run around the aisles and look for something she would fancy eating. Fortunately, she did not like expensive stuff, so 'yes' would always be the answer when she asks permission to get a pack of gelatin, wafer sticks, and local chocolates. The thing that made me feel so happy was the fact that...

Since I am on a roll talking about myself and my weight issues, I am temtpted to do another Let's Talk About Me. But allow me to delve on stories of my children, and how they came into this world. Alongside that, you will note that my weight will figure in there somewhere. Whether it is lost or gained. My pregnancy with Ana was a walk in the park. Literally, I walked. Not in the park, but all over San Fernando, because of work and errands. I felt like I could do anything, like I was on top of the world, perhaps pumped with so much excitement and anticipation of my daughter to arrive and join me in this world. I waited for two years to have her, the other line in the pregnancy test kit was so faint, I was not sure if she was really in my belly already. But indeed she was in there. I introduced her to music even while still in my belly, playing her classical songs through the speakers of a cheap audio player. I read a lot, books, magazines and lectures. I decided to go back to teac...

So Ana has typhoid. Yes, anak, I need to say that. We were in the ER for a couple of hours to get an IV in and have antibiotics drip. She seemed normal, still baked cookies, made a salad before the tests. Even after the treatment at the ER, in bed already to rest, we both fought the urge to eat but we lost. She ate voraciously. We realized it was only her second time to be in a hospital. The first time she was confined, she has dengue at two years old. After almost twenty years, she gets diagnosed with something major. Oh she has allergies, mild asthma attacks, cough and colds, every now and then. But this time she had persistent headache for a week, it was time for tests. I am writing about this because both my kids are so full of energy, they think they can 'rule the world' in a day. Unlike me. I have sniffles at the slightest whiff of dust, I get sinusitis with the smell of chemical air fresheners, I get colds just by being under a slight drizzle. I am trying to recall t...

There will always be one in your life, or in my case more than one, whom you will feel attachment to even after only  a few months of bring 'acquainted' with. Being a complicated person, leading a similarly complicated life, I can be a very difficult person to be simply acquainted with, moreso, to be a friend. I am a bit odd, what with my strong personality, my kindness of heart (I would like to think that so let me be), my colorful life (wink-wink). So I really have this great admiration for people who do like me, in the true sense of the word. To love me, oh, that is another story altogether. It would take patience and understanding beyond comprehension. But there are a few out there who do. Like me and love me, truly and sincerely, that is. 'Like' and 'Love' are so cheaply used nowadays, one would need to be a mind-reader to find out if such are true, sincere, and 'actionable'. I have been blessed to have them in my life. Those who care without expe...

One of these days I will have to accept that people are just raised differently. I mean I have always been conscious of how my behaviour will affect others, well especially when I behave badly. I indulge my ego several times, and act like an idiot, scare the hell out of my colleagues, have them all jumpy and running around to please me. Then after a while, guilt steps in. I realize I did a stupid thing, and I try to make amends. By smiling again, by cracking jokes, by treating them to our favorite 'mamon' (bread). And it is at this point when they don't know whether to smile back, laugh at my jokes or eat the bread. I laugh inside, not at them, but at myself. No wonder my daughter says I'm a bit bipolar. Imagine that on a grander scale. And on a more serious level. When people indulge their egos at your expense. With things that insult, anger or annoy you, done to you behind your back, and involving others who do not have business over your personal quirks. Oh yes, an...