IngliseraKuno

Lola Coring has been in my dreams lately. Alive but in a wheelchair. She does not say anything in particular in my dreams, she is just there. Then I was reminded that her 10th death anniversary is this coming May. It is strange. I do not have her in my active thoughts yet when I sleep, the dreams come and I am privileged a visit from her.  Hers was a life devoted to a husband, children, and a classroom of elementary students in a public school somewhere in Caba where at that time, was not accessible by jeepneys, just tricycles. On rainy days even the trikes would not be able to negotiate the route. I recall Lola Coring wearing those blue plastic boots so she can walk through floodwater to reach her classroom.  She lived a privileged life until she was widowed by Lolo Camlon, who passed away in America. She did not see him get buried. How she raised her children after that escapes me; her eldest passed away young so my Mama took that place. She had three children who passed bef...

Got an insane dose of sarcasm yesterday, and from whom it came and why, I was quite taken aback. It came from a seemingly conservative and reserved person, the one you would know did not speak any four-letter-word or expletives. A nice-enough human being, you know, the kind you would feel embarrasssed to boss around because you have regard for her age and grace, even if you are actually 'the boss'. The 'why' part is also surprising because even those who know her for more years than I have, do not comprehend what is going on nowadays, and they, too are clueless as to why a monster is slowly emerging from this apparently sweet soul.  The creepy thing about it is that she did her  'Devil-Wears-Prada' version so effortless, with me at that, I was looking into her eyes trying to search for a bit of reason there, I could not find any. And the stuff coming out of her mouth? She was so rudely direct, oozing with sarcasm and anger that I was tempted to let out a crucifi...

A dear friend told me to be 'more forgiving of the world', commenting on a post I wrote with sarcasm. There are times when I seem to be unforgiving, like when I am nervously waiting for my turn to be interviewed and I wait three hours. So I fiddle with the keys of this extension-of-my-arm tablet, and furiously write, well, whatever. While waiting, fidgeting, craving for burgers, and stuff,  to relieve the tension wherever and whenever. I find writing very therapeutic, in place of exercise, for example. Though many will tell me to exercise as much as I type, given my weight.  I write my thoughts about a person, an event, a relationship, a celebration, a frustration. I am not a specific type of blogger. I simply write. To let my thoughts out, share, perhaps offend, too. I read once that if you are not able to offend others in a way or another by your writing, you are not a good writer. I challenge myself to be proper, though, most of the time.  My points of view are shallow...

We always made jokes about how he spoke English. He would say 'shooperman' when he meant, 'superman'. Or 'shooperintendent' when he meant 'superintendent'. And 'crass' the street, meaning 'cross' the street. When we laughed at him, he would just shake his head and charm us with his wide grin. He cracked really wise jokes, literally, only the ones with 'wisdom' would get and laugh at right away. Of course I  would always laugh the last, and the longest.  When I was in high school and was taken in by Lolo as their youngest, I was so scared of him that I would  fold when he enters the room. He was always that way, in command, with his gait when he arrives at the office parking while I wait in the car (we always went home together, my school was near his office) his 'barong tagalog' still neat and  'uncrumpled' even after a gruelling day at work. I would scramble to straighten up from my lazy slouch inside the car and ...

So another union falls apart. It was a whirlwind romance, the two fell so in love after meeting in a party somewhere. I knew about it, but I did not have any inkling it would be serious. Until I woke up half-sane with my anaesthesia from my surgery to remove yet again another set of growths in my left breast. I opened my eyes, and the the couple in love stared back at me. It seemed they were nervously waiting for me to wake up. It was actually a stupid time to introduce a special someone to anyone just out of surgery, but what to do. So I forced myself to smile, and opened my mouth to say hello, recalling now I did not have my dentures on. I barely remember what I said to the boyfriend, nothing rude, I hoped then. Well now I hope I said something rude. Or something so offending so that I turned him off straight away. Maybe I should have let my mother come out of my mouth so that the guy would have run out of that hospital room scared out of his wits. He scares easily, actually. Especia...

I have been staring at these bananas hanging on a tree right across me every morning facing the backyard of a neighbor. Six months, I think. It's interesting because after days of wondering when I can eat them, they are now in front of me. And I just want to stare at them. They have been my companions over coffee and facebook for the longest time. I felt it is not in the spirit of justice that I devour them, they were oh so green for the longest time. Now they are ripe.   Ready to eat. Yet I don't want to. Funny how life gives you what you can have freely, but you yearn for those which you cannot.

I 'googled' the definition of the word 'change', and I got a hit of something like: 'make, or become different'. I thought of that as these next days we Filipinos gear up to spend the Lenten Season supposedly basked in spirituality, take time off from our hectic lives and reflect, ponder, and renew our faith, as Catholics. Ok, some may not be Catholics at all, even so, most of us take time to look at our Christianity more deeply at this time of the year. I have no historical sense of why this is so, how even the dates on the calendar are 'designated' as 'the' days. I really do not wish to 'intellectualize' a very sensitive, vulnerable, and understandably untouchable part of Filipinos' lives.  I try to make sense of the season by accepting that this time of reflection, is a springboard for all of us to make changes in our lives, emulating the example shown by our Christ, who took upon Him all of humanity's sins and died for the...