Because Thank You is Too Mainstream

I immediately went back to Bulacan few hours after my mother died. That week, I was reeling into slight depression already. I guess nobody knew. I am good at hiding feelings sometimes. Because I think that what we should do ... get on with things, answer questions, go through the motions. Then fall apart at appropriate times.

I let them out now. Can't help it. I'll be letting this out for a long, long time. Maybe even always, and that's alright by me. Lucky grief comes in spurts, in, out. Or else the bereaved would never get out of bed.

I saw her inside the white coffin covered with silk. Still not embalmed. She looked as if she was only sleeping. Not wooden or waxy like others. This time I could face seeing her because it was the last chance I’d ever get. Her forehead was wrinkled as if frowning; and her hair still flat and oily like the usual.

Death is such a freaky, scary, cloistered thing in our culture. Yet it happens every day. I think you can now buy tickets to watch a funeral and then see as the body gets set alight. Tickets. Like a show.

We had a wake with her friends, oh my god her friends!. So many. And every last one. Friends from childhood, neighbors, acquaintances, coworkers, churchmates. And so many more. You can really see the mark of a man through her friends.

Thank goodness for people like them to help guide us through the very worst times of our lives. My mother’s siblings, my own siblings, my family.

I wish I could repay your goodness and love.

So to all who are going through the same experience, be strong.

::

You Will Be Missed Forever

Exactly one week today, on a Thursday, my mother’s sufferings finally ended. She was laid to rest beside her parents’ grave in an old cemetery.

In know our lives go on. We will smile more, laugh more. Love more. But we will never stop missing. We will never stop loving.

Looking forward to a day of peace and healing.

I pray that this coming Christmas and all the Christmasses to come, you all feel your mother’s presence with you more strongly.



::

My mother is dead

But she is not gone.

And I love her like she is alive.

When The Day Is Long and Hard

Months previously, I was trying so hard to go against sadness. I know I was teetering toward mild depression hence my slight effort to start Christmas early in this blog.

Mother is sick and is now seriously ill. Already on Valium.

Many times I sat in my bed late at night absolutely scared about what to do.

Went to see her many times this week. The first time I couldn't touch her but the second time I loved her and hugged her and told her how much we adored her. I wiped her face with a tissue and felt her arms and legs and feet, knowing it may be the last few times we will ever see her. The wrinkles, almost wooden skin, is she dying inside? yet SO beautiful. Such a strapping person. Always have guests around to see her, even by person I never met in my whole life.

I'm not praying for miracles anymore. But I have a husband and two beautiful kids I adore just as much as I adored mother so I'm sure I'll keep going. Still I need everything that I can get because my mother is now counting months, may be days. Weeping and keening, and then this strange silence. I don’t know. Valium would not tell me.

::

I found this poster and it made a lot of sense to me.

How to Deal With Your Instinct to Maim Those Politicians?

Have you ever watched the news? I try not to cause it’s so depressing but sometimes I see it. Look at them all so tough and defiant against their charges and allegations. The nerve of these people.

Bad senators, congressmen, judges, commissioners, barangay tanods aren't that hard to spot. They are EVERYWHERE. In order to deal with them, you have to understand what they are going through, where they are coming from. Because all they need is love and understanding.

JUST KIDDING.

These people expect that everybody loves them. They have this sense of self-worth that if they are honored, respected, prioritized and loved, they think they deserve it and if they are hated, they think their critics are if not heretics, are simply low-life lying morons.

Well?

The best way is to stay calm. You can bring them back to earth. Just have faith.

Or something.

So let’s begin.

Just because our public servants are restless souls, they are often hallucinating that their lives and time are more important than ours, which is why they get traffic escorts and back-up vehicles, want expresses through airport immigration and other similar conveniences. So I thought why fast forward the future and...

1. Prepare Them Advance Tombstones

 

Avoid putting "R.I.P" or "In Loving Memory Of" on their tombstone. Seriously? That is so 10 years ago. Give them some credit man! Be bold! Have them carve, "Wanna come with?". Better yet, have them write BRB or Be Right Back. Aside from its undeniable frivolity, this will remind our politicians that their powers and privileges do not necessarily mean an easy access to heaven. Saint Peter might send them elsewhere.

2. Summon a Ghost During a Senate Speech

Remember Tosho of The Grudge?

There is a saying that some ghosts are harmless and friendly. However this one is no Casper or else this would be useless. This ghost will be summoned during deliberation or privilege speech. The ghost will go to the public official and whispers mean things to him and only he can hear him. It can cause so much anguish and pain. Notice how he will become an emotional wreck right after the speech. Well, he can try to convince himself that his eyes are just irritated but we will know that's not true.

3. Sack them in a Life-Sized Condom

Every time they lie, steal, plagiarized, or spend millions for as inconsequential as burgers to as grandiose as a wack-wack mansion. Now there is a chance to effectively shoo away their nonchalant appeal for material things, lust included. Isn’t that once upon a time, God’s natural punishment was depriving them of erections? Such a frightening scenario, especially in a religious society that worships a God who does not believe in condoms and birth-control pills.

So when life gets tough, my dear readers, don't lose hope.

There's always a way.

Again, you're welcome.

A Day At The Park

Everyday I tell myself about being stronger. And then the universe laughed at me and decided to test that theory-.

The eldest boy had a school excursion yesterday. And I thought no one should be left behind, so we took the trip the three of us. Suddenly I found myself plunged into a good day that turned hellishly tiring. 

First we went to see the kidney stones of Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo, our country’s first president. 

It was there, put on display at Kawit, Cavite. There for everyone to see what a hundred-old kidney stone look like. 

The trip went on awesome and fascinating.. 

Basically here's this amazing man, who five minutes beforehand,
I thought was just ordinary guy on a horse

 I’ve long held a fascination with old things – in particular its history and the stories of hardship, hope and tragedy that hide behind walls, windows, doors and secret passageways. 

Inside the mansion was eerie but because it was packed by noisy kids (and adults), the feelings were more awe-inspiring rather than otherworldly.

I huffed and I puffed back up all the stairs. Had to stop three times because I'm dreadfully unfit. And hugely overweight. But I did it.

This one is spooky enough. 

We continued the trip to the Manila Ocean Park. We walked our legs off, continued to trudge around, being amazed on all their new attractions. Ladies, remember to wear a strong bra on the Megarider. It's a roller coaster ride inside the park.... very rickety. 

And then we set foot at the Trails of Antartica. Brrr!

"Son, these are real penguins...not ducks"

Official Christmas Photo, Manila Ocean Park 2013

Next: Birds of Prey!

The kids cheered at the large birds flying overhead and they were all so happy. 
So very off-the-cuff, spur of the moment happy. 

It’s like being inside the bird cage of Jurassic Park.

The whole trip was amazing. I'm happy that, as parents, we were able to let our children feel amazed, be informed and experienced these kind of activities.

It was all up-lifting.

Except that it burned my budget for the next week.

::

How about you? when was the last time you took the kids out?

Zamboanga Not A Good Place..For Now..

That's pretty much what everyone is walking around thinking at this point, right? (Overseas readers: we have a falling out in Zamboanga and a lot of people are jaded as hell.)

Truth is, the Philippine peace council got knifed in the back by the MNLF, I haven't really been bothered to keep up with all the latest news. I've purposely not read articles and watched TV about because ..... it's all so disheartening.


What is disheartening?


This.

Kids roam free, fending for themselves. Often dirty, no shoes, no schools. 

People fleeing to evacuation camps.
Not sure when to have a normal life again. 

Armed men are commonplace. 

You can't buy any food. Most stores are closed. 

Sometimes we look for meaning and there is none.

Whoever started it probably don’t have a family.

I believe in free speech, good policy, good government, and a fair go. Schools, hospitals, the elderly .... the vulnerable in our society NEED to be taken care of.

So - the person who is killing the peace talks don't realize the benefits of a true freedom. Sometimes we don't know that we are eaten alive by our broken principles and false honor.

I hope whoever is in charge will take good care of our people.

Philippines is one of the best countries on earth. And I hope it stays that way.

::

Where I Turned Into A Saw Slaying Monster. Kind Of.

I have many kinds of anger:

1. The kind that I forget after 10 seconds.
2. The kind that takes a day to sink in, which is very frustrating especially when, the moment it sinks in, it's not relevant to talk about anymore
3. The kind that makes me create imaginary arguments in my head in which you will win and I will hate you more.
4. The kind that makes me want to make you realize how stupid you are by using extreme sarcasm and snide remarks that you probably won't even understand.
5. The kind that frustrates me a lot that it makes me tear up. 
6. The kind that makes me want to go Super Saiyan on you. 
7. And the kind that makes my blood boil up inside and make me want to secretly take a picture of you and post it on the Internet because I will probably hate you forever. FOREVER. 

And do you want to know what makes me that angry?

Wait. Okay. Not that angry.

PMS.

If you have been reading this blog for a length of time, there are two things that bother me every month: bills and monthly period.

I know its not normal for most girls to get crazy-angry when PMS-ing. But compared to the random mood swings and cramps and headaches and body pains and frustrations and that feeling where you want to strangle everyone who says something stupid, staying sane is probably the worst when the red flag is up.

So this is why I want to discuss ways to get us girls out of trouble when its the time of the month.

Here they are..

Eat. Follow your cravings. We're a lot peaceful with full stomach.

Go to the gym. Exercising and sweating bring you a sweet
adrenalin rush..

Find a hobby. Dance, sing, shave someone's head, twerk. Whatever!
Anything that turn you back into peace-loving, delicate
butterfly that you know you are..

Lastly,


Don't eat sugar for breakfast. Because as the day goes on, you'll get more hyper.
More hyper than you already are in the morning.


So there.

I hope I helped.

You're welcome

::

Dear Cancer

You suck!

You used to scare everyone silly, but we are not afraid of you anymore.

You didn't get my father. You didn't get my aunt. You didn't get my other aunt and you're not gonna get my mother!

She is eating healthy & then you know what she did?

She smiled for a photo & posted it on FACEBOOK.

My mother at the right, with her sister

So there.

You can try to beat us all you want, but we know how to fight. And we will keep fighting.

You might as well just go away.

And never come back.

::

Talk About Gifts

I've had so many gifts.

But none as great as. . . .

Lian, 9 & Yana, 4

I can't take any credit. To God goes the Glory.

::

Hello September

I'm relatively happy to wave August goodbye, with its seasonal thunderstorms and floods, and memories of hospitals, and one too many stresses of the here and now.

I’m waving it farewell in order to welcome the start to one of my favorite times of the year:

**Christmas** 

(which is a September - January affair for me).

September is the ideal time for thinking anything shining, shimmering, splendid. So as I sit, trying to ram knowledge into my brain, my mind tends to wander to more delightful things. But this blog is officially welcoming you the best holiday season ever!.

And such as what I want to do this December:

*Treat mother to her favorite place
*Have a picnic in some beautiful gardens
*Watch live TV show
*Make no-bake goodies as Christmas give-aways
*Visit bazzars and night markets.
*Eat at Banchettos in Pasig.
*Sleep in a hammock
*Go to the zoo and look at penguins.

I'm sure more things will pop into my head as I think about it...

Christmas to me is always more than just the 25th, it's the run up to it.

So, there. I give up. I'll keep my anticipation, thank-you very much, and you can keep your problems. I don't want them, they’re bitter and thoughtful.

::

Where I Screamed My Head Off

People are way too serious about death. I am serious about death. It hurts, it's unfair, it's scary as hell, it's despiteful, all that's true. But sometimes the only way to get through it is to recognize the ridiculous in the horrible. Because what will it all matter in a hundred years. Because life is silly. Because we're all just temporary. And because what else can you do.

I say a lot of times that while I am hopeful and a great believer of God’, I am also a realist. I don’t do fantasy or make-believe. I know cancer. Not all of it though but I know it’s alive and vicious, will go to remission for awhile but fired back at an instant.

So while I am at where I am at, I could use some breathing space, right?

So my house looked like this last Monday.

Meet the audience: a son, daughter, few nephews, nieces,
and a bunch of neighbors's kids. 

Me: What the hell is going on in there?

Kid: Ma, manood tayo ng Conjuring

Me: Is it okay?

Kid: ….

Me: **covers all the mirrors**

So I’m sitting there next to my little girl with pillow on her face. I even saw the beginning of it but I had to ask again and again if the ghost will appear yet. Now, normally my philosophy about everything concerning ghost movies is "If I can't see it, it's not my problem."

But of course, my older nephew leapt at the opportunity to regale us with the plot of the movie.

"Well, you see, they moved in that creepy house and that's where the dog would back all day. Before she will be discovered dead the next day. You can see where the tapping is heard, all because that’s where the killing happened..."

Half an hour later, we were all screaming. I think my uterus ruptured, or my eggs cracked. I don't know.

Once everyone was able to calm down and stop shrieking, after a few seconds of silence we would burst into screaming again.

Now I can't stop thinking about that cellar scene. It’s where the possessed Carolyn out to get the child and Patrick Wilson with his Elvis-like flip haircut and sideburns, is stuck in a hole saying his exorcism rites while Vera Farmiga’s Liberace-style collar ruffles is lulling her to think of their best time as a family.

So there.

I feel like I could be a good movie critic, though, because while other critics will give you intellectual point-by-point breakdowns on things like story arc and character development, I base my evaluations on emotional impact alone. Did I laugh? Did I cry? Did I sink into a near-death phasmophobia or extreme fear of ghosts and require six months of bi-weekly visits with a psychologist afterwards before I could sleep through the night again?

Oh I love you and hate you, Conjuring.

You scared the hell out me.

AFLOAT

You might be asking how I am so I thought I would tell you.

I am better than yesterday. Thank you.

I think I have visited more than enough hospitals this year, seen few hospital beds and met handful of people, which is good for an introvert like me. I am not shy. I am just big on privacy, personal space and a firm believer of not talking to strangers. So the nurses and doctors I’ve met? You people are amazing. We should give one day in year to honor you.

The past month has been beyond hard. The worst was the weekend before last. But mother is doing well on Letrozole and B-complex and some vitamins. She now laughs a little, speaks livelier and eats healthier. Recovery road is a long travel. And she needs all these synthetic pills, and our constant love and support to live longer. It is expensive, tiring, stressful and depressing. But we need to choose to stand back up again in life. One foot in front of the other is sometimes the best way we can manage.

We did indeed go see her every weekend and every single time we see her, we walk off somehow feeling enriched and better ourselves. She is okay, we are okay.

There's a quote by somebody famous about how, we must not be afraid to share the hard times in our life. Something about poets heralding the darkness, because if it doesn't get documented, how will people know we got through? That they can get through as well?

So. That's where I'm at. I'm ok enough to log on to my computer and upload some photos and write some words, so that's something. I miss the days of just coming to blog and offloading like I used to, without worrying that some people I love will die, and that bad things will still come one day.

At this point I don't care. It's night-time and it's raining. Tomorrow is a whole new day.

::

This verse has kept me alive. I think about it and it made a whole world of sense.

Isn't it?

Drifting Again

Four years ago we began. I suppose we never really ended, chasing the cancer cells through surgery, the terrible promise of Tamoxifen, and hospital visits again and again. Mother found her own way around the cancer there. The journey changed. The path became less clear and more muddled. It's strange in a way. Side effects of breast cancer. The trouble is dealing with that, with knowing it and living in it, walking around each day with that settled on your soul. The adjustment is not pleasant.

In many ways, I'm not sure what to expect.

A day when the thoughts are closer to the surface, when my memory of her good health is more easily accessible and the road to recovery is a little clearer. But it's still just a day. I cried, but not as much as I might have. There is no clarity, at least not anything new. Some days I feel strong, some other days even the shallowest drama on TV would bring me to tears.

She is in a hospital again. Doctors extracted the fluid out of her right lung. No big deal. Root Canal would have been longer. And more painful I guess.



But the day passed on too slow. Again. I’m counting of all the days until she is out of the hospital.

I know better to expect revelations. I know better than to expect anything at all on a schedule. It's been four years and I know that there will be more years to come. I know in the end it will settle. Not settles in the sense that it's ok, or not horrific in some way, but settles in the sense that it is not actively debilitating when it happens. Loss of any kind, especially the loss out of order of someone you love, is not a wound that heals. Closure is an impractical and misplaced goal. Mother is not a torn ligament or a broken bone, something a surgery and a few months of rehab will set right without further ado. You live with it. Your only choice is how you choose to do that.



Some people don’t know any better. Once they knew about mother, they give us the "cancer eyes." These were the eyes people, from hospital staff to strangers, would give us when they found out mother’s breast cancer. Pity, mostly. The looks I get from these acquaintances are very similar "condolence eyes." Like cancer eyes, I have little patience for them. That's not to say I do not appreciate people feeling bad about what happened to her. Of course I do. But pity does not interest me. To me, that undermines the experience. I prefer sympathy, or empathy. If people want to talk about her, I'm happy to do so. People have told me they were sorry and added something, talked about it. If they're just going to say the words for the sake of saying them though, I'd rather we skipped the formality.



I know this may sound harsh, that people just want to be kind. I know they're trying and do not mean anything by it. Still, I think it's important to recognize what's good to say and what's not. So I suppose I'm trying to say that. I am glad when people talk about her. What I am not interested in is people saying something just for the sake of saying it. Or mocking it. I did not notice it before, but I do now.

::

Thank you all for your continued thoughts and prayers.

That Was Never a Comedy For Me

I broke down in tears Sundays ago.

In front of my church friends; was literally sobbing and was crying my heart out.

I came to church in my old self. Living a normal life and just trying to work stuff out, be present as a parent, a sister, a friend while holding my self together, doing the very best I can. You know, finding beauty in things.

But things were not good lately. We have been stressing out due to mother’s condition.

I wasn’t in the best frame of mind, but I did come anyway. We’ve been MIA for 2 Sundays already. Sometimes if I ignore how I feel and just do the things I need to do, I come good.

But there was no coming good.

Between his and hellos, I told them that mother is not doing good, water was leaking in her lungs.

And then came the singing, the hand-shaking and the preaching.

The last thing I remember, the preacher, whom I know personally, told in the pulpit, in front of many, that people gets easily downed and depressed

“Because their mothers are sick”

In a mocking, amusing and comical way.

I thought I heard a few laughed with what supposed to be a joke. What is more difficult, he said the same joke one more time.

But that was never a comedy for me.

I was hurt so badly that I wept.

I came to his wife crying. I told her I was hurt. Said it was not a good joke.

I've never felt so scarily low, for such an extended period of time. I unravelled to the end of the string. It was such a relief to not pretend anymore. But then people can be so insensitive sometimes, they don’t know.

I don’t know too. It was 2 weeks already. My head says its time to move on. But my heart tells it needs more time to heal.

Selfies, Anyone?

Now on Instagram and Facebook, and probably any where else in the social media.

Selfie photos.

A singular image where face is at the center, and an outstretched arm amputated by the edges of the frame. That, and the perennially awkward gesture of pointing your camera/cell phone at a mirror.

You can say many things about the Selfie, a.k.a auto-portraiture, or better yet, ego-photography: that it is the ultimate symbol of Narcissism. You assume that people are so desperate to see your face.

Now, everyone’s an artist. Everyone’s a photographer. In the same way that everyone’s a filmmaker, everyone’s a chef, everyone’s a goddamned food critic or movie reviewer. Everyone’s doing selfies, from Justin Bieber to the Obamas. We’re all guilty of it.

Twenty to thirty years, it would have been unthinkable. It would be deemed a waste of precious Fujicolor or Kodak film. Certain generations remember how they would weep upon seeing a number of damaged/useless/out-of-focus-blurry frames at the photo shop.

But today, there fly mindless shapshots of anything: Lunch plate, shoes, toes and cuticle, dogs, starbucks cup, etc.etc.

Now, let’s sample on our selfie celebrities and tell me who is more vain and desperately insecure.

Mirror on mirror shot: "Jeez, crazy bad hair day, but I am still cute"

Duck Face: Suddenly, I got embarrassed at the thought of a selfie picture. 

Photo-op with another celebrity:" undeniably a fan"

Posing with a boyfriend looking very much in love:"Still not over your ex.."

Ad-lib Shot: "I-am-so-busy-and-cool-I-can't-be-bothered"

Staring at nothing: "How deep.."

::

Do you do selfie too?

Barefoot Contessa

Sidenote: Do you know the show? It is one of my favorites. However none of it is about the show.

______________________________________________________________________________

Felt like I was trapped. Can’t move. My heart was beating so fast I can hardly breathe.

Its one of those moment that you remember exactly where you were and what you were doing when it happened.

Once again I am forced to wonder if I am the universe’s favorite plaything or whatnot.

Why don’t I give you a little back story.

You all have to imagine me standing at a tiled flatform of Buendia Station, and whistling Itsy Bitsy Spider. I’m surrounded by a lot of people, some nice, some really really bad. You know, pushy and all. I tell you inside it is like a sauna where air is so thin, you could almost choke on your own saliva.

But because I’m a masochist, I continue riding it.

Anyway, the train arrived. We squeezed ourselves as the door began to open. People are good at first, making a narrow line to make way for exiting people. And then they started to go narcissistic, pushing others so they can have their little spaces under the sweaty armpits of a guy in a sleeveless shirt.

I was pushed in all direction. Thought I had a broken metacarpal, a dislocated joint and a torn ligament.

All was calm until I felt shoeless. Suddenly it’s the hard floor, gone is the soft sole of my crocs gray flats.

The next 5 seconds was critical.

Should I go back for it?

To cut the chase, went back for it, because I can’t walk without one shoe. Found an extremely kind Security Guard to help me scoop it from the ground, and silently laughing at myself for that experience.

Now I know what Cinderella must feel like.

Not ready to let go of you yet..Hinde ka pa bayad!!

Moon Like No Other

Last night, while we were watching TV, the earth’s celestial neighbor appeared 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than normal. The biggest and brightest full moon of the year—called the SUPERMOON—graced the Philippine sky 7:32 pm.

It loomed larger on the horizon next to trees and buildings.

However it hid behind rain clouds.

Chances or not, could it be the reason why I am not happy?

Has the moon ate all up the good times and return with the bad times that is cancer?



Back in 2009, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 2 cancer. The next three years appeared normal. Until last month. She was sent again to the hospital for Theocentisis. A half liter of fluid was extracted from her lung. She is literally drowning. But she does not know it. She said she felt nothing. It appeared Cancer has metastised.

She grew up in a farm house in Calumpit Bulacan, said it was both tough and easy.

"Noong araw, walang tamad. Lahat may ginagawa sa loob ng bahay, kalit maliit na bata. Mahirap ang buhay, pero masaya. Naglalaro hangang tawagin na kami ni Ina dahil gabi na. Ngayon puro computer. Nakakaawa.”

I cannot agree more.

Today everything was kind of off-centre and wrong.

I worry so much, that the circumstances and stress surrounding her cancer has somehow affected her, and affected us. Though she softened a bit. She was no longer cursing when the youngest had tantrum. She leaves that already to us.

I know the panic will wear off one day, and we are left to live our lives like normal people.

Life is short. Do all of the wild and precious things you can possibly think of. Now. There won't always be time.

In the meantime ..... we're here to learn and grow and evolve, as much as we can. Be kind, man. Give of yourself to your family, and friends, and others. There's a saying that's been drummed into my head over time - you've got to give it away to keep it.

::

Kids, Inc.

Hello to you all my dear friends. I’ve been into a lot of things lately so busy I was not able to update my blog. Well lot of things would mean the youngest kid going now to school, my birthday, my mother’s hospitalization and my endless things to buy and things to do.

Well.

As I said, Yana started big school today. And neither of us cried.



There's such a revolting feeling when your child starts kindy. Who will help them open their crackers? How can they possibly go to a bathroom stall by themselves? The classroom is SO BIG, and she is SO LITTLE. How can this happen?

So we have one girl now in kindy and one boy in year four, at different schools. I keep telling my son in my best Rizzo voice that he's gonna"Ruuule the school."

By the time I was my sons's age, I was already thinking about my future like who will I marry, and how many kids will I have. I don’t feel so pretty then but I know that somewhere out there a little boy is also growing to be my husband.

I also tell him that because he is so strong and tall and popular, he has a duty to watch out for kids who need his help, who might be bullied. He tells me he does - I hope he does.

You think your kids are set once they are no longer babies, that the hardest part is over. It's not. It's a whole new ballgame, one I never saw coming until it came and I was all um, I didn't order this particular parenting sandwich?!

Fights, arm wrestling, limits ignored, harsh words. The severe worry and panic that you are totally wasting these kids up. It's completely terrifying. I just hope it's minimal, that not too much damage is being done, and that when they go out into the world they're armed with enough confidence to take care of themselves. And respect themselves and other people.



Financially, we often just lurch from one problem/crisis to the next. I've been parenting for nine years now. I've sucked at it, been awesome at it, loved it, loathed it. It demands so much, to look after people who can't look after themselves quite yet. Sometimes I count up on my fingers how many more years until it's just me and Hubs again, like, boyfriend/girlfriend.

But man they keep us anchored. And responsible. We're all just a bunch of crazy people, doing the best we can.

Would You Rather: Hot or Cold?

Happy June first, my dear friends.

June is always abuzz that is a start of a lot of things to Filipinos, especially Metro Manilans. School, traffic, and well, rainy season. Remember that scene in my beloved Calumpit Bulacan-where residents waded in knee-deep water for weeks? God forbid it will not happen again.

The title, this looks like a pretty innocent question. Did you ever ask yourself which you prefer, hot or cold? May be inane, as in not much of a debate material. But it seems that people have very strong opinions when it comes to this all-important question -- opinions that are right up their with their plans for world peace and their thoughts on the Vice Ganda- Jessica Soho ongoing issue on comedy bar jokes.

Below, the poster that plot down the plus and minus of our wet and dry weather.



I like hot weather better. Do you know that I get a bit sentimental when it rains?

The bottom line: it’s all a matter of taste. Some people like R&B, I loathe it. Some people like heavy metal songs and I would rather stick my head into a grinder.

Ultimately we do not question each other’s preferences.

Its A Choice

Sometimes I stand on the street, look around at all the people, and wonder which of them are gays, lesbians, or transgenders.

Maybe quite a few, filled with the terror and angst it takes to hide their true selves so that others won't find out. It'd be so, so hard. I can't imagine. And may be some others so okay with it they flaunt it in their neon green nails, studded shirt and spiky hairs.

I don't know so many things. But I am big on social justice, equality, fairness and right to express self as it pertains to identity and mental health. But sometimes all ours kids ever get told is“no” and “you can not do that” and “behave". That thing you do with words is outstanding. Only twenty-six letters in the alphabet and you arrange them just so.

Hubs and I have been parenting our children for nine years, now. It's a privilege, it's wonderful, it's frustrating, disappointing, tiring. I've learnt a lot about parenting, mostly through trial and error. We muddle through, think that it will get easier as they get older. I'm starting to realize it's harder.

And like me, millions of parents watch their kids every day. But I'm not millions. I'm one. And my son, he's all mine and the way the tendrils curl around his ears when his hair gets too long is so gorgeous that I want to punch something. What is that?

Thing is, I do not want any of my children to know life harder than it already is. So I pray that they will live straight lives, make straight choices. And hopefully make them realize the impact of their choices.

I hope to explain them the difference between gays, lesbians and transgenders like one day I will tell them the differences between sex and drugs, God and the devil and love and fear.

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What do you think of Charice's transformation?

"For me, just love me. I am a person. If you think I am boy or a  girl
or if I look like a boy, then fine. I am Charice. I know what people think, I don't care
This is the look I want. The only thing that you can do is move on."

Halfway Done, Halfway To Go

Hi dear readers! Its barely two weeks and its June. Sweet for the marrying couples but soury for the-still-on-vacation-mode students. I like June for so many reasons, aside it being my birth month, it’s a month on the calendar that says we’re half-way done and another half to go. Oh my, how time flies. Isang kembot lang pasko na naman...

And what is the month of June known for?

Wedding ceremonies. And they are such sweet events. However mine is nerve-wrecking though. I was crying a lot because of stresses and worries. But looking back, it was all worth it. I have two beautiful mix-martial-arts-wrestlers-turned-fighting ninjas children. Sweet!

And in celebration of this coming month is this Tokyo wedding post. Let's look at the bride's beautiful transformation...

She saw her groom..

And freaked out little kids

And after ward they took the subway home







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Incredible, isn’t it?