Ang Balikbayan Box
Posted in

**Una kong nabasa ang kwentong ito mga 5 years ago. Nagtatrabaho pa si Daddy sa US nuon at tawa siya nang tawa ng i forward ko sa kanya ang email. Ugali daw kasi talaga ng mga Pinoy duon na magsiksik ng kung anong maipadadala sa kahit ano o sinong uuwi ng Pilipinas. Naging family joke na ito. Masarap lang basahin uli. Hehe. Enjoy!~stephie~

Registered nurse si Maria sa States. Kasama nya ang kanyang ina na nagpagamot din doon. Namatay ang ina nito. Dahil sa kamahalan ng pamasahe pabalik sa Pilipinas, nagtipid si Maria. Pinauwi na lang niya ang kabaong ng kanyang ina na mag-isa. Pagdating ng kabaong, napansin ng mga kapamilya niya na dikit na dikit ang mukha ng bangkay sa salamin ng ataul. Nagkomento tuloy ang isang anak, "Ay, naku! Tingnan mo 'yan... hindi sila marunong mag-ayos ng bangkay sa
Amerika!" Upang ayusin ang itsura ng bangkay, binuksan ang kabaong
Aba! May sulat sa dibdid ng ina. Kinuha nila ito at binasa. Ang nilalaman ng liham na mula kay Maria?

Mahal kong tatay at mga kapatid, Pasensya na kayo at hindi ko nasamahan ang nanay sa pag-uwi riyan sa Pilipinas dahil napakamahal ng pamasahe. Ang gastos ko pa lang sa kanya ay mahigit $10,000 na. Ayoko nang isipin pa ang eksaktong halaga. Anyway, ipinadala ko kasama ni nanay ang mga sumusunod...Nasa likod ni nanay ang dalawampu't apat na karne norte. And adidas na suot ni nanay ay para kay tatay. Ang limang pares ng de-goma ay nasa loob ng dalawang asul na Jansport na backpack na inuunan ni nanay. Tig-iisa kayo. Ang iba't-ibang klase ng tsokolate at candy ay nasa puetan ni nanay. Para sa mga bata ito. Bahala na kayong magparte-parte. Sana'y hindi matunaw ang mga ito.

Ang Pokemon stuffed toy na yapos-yapos ni nanay ay para sa bunso ni ate. Gift ko sa first birthday ng bata. Ang itim na Esprit bag ay para kay Nene, Ate, nasa loob ng bag ang pictures ni inay, mga japanese version ng Pokemon trading cards at stickers. Suot ni nanay ang tatlong Ralph Lauren, apat na Gap at dalawang Old Navy t-shirts. Ang isa ay para kay Kuya at tig-iisa ang mga pamangkin ko. Maisusuot ninyo ang mga iyan sa fiesta. Suot din ni inay ang anim na panty hose at tatlong warmer para sa mga dalaga kong pamangkin. Isuot nyo ang mga ito sa party.

May isang dosenang NBA caps sa may paanan ni nanay. Para sa inyo, itay, kuya, dikong, Tiyo Romy. Bigyan nyo na rin ng tig-isa 'yung mga pamangkin ko at yong isa ay kay Pareng Tulume. Ang tigdadalawang pares ng Nike wristband at knee caps na suot-suot din ni nanay ay para sa mga anak mo, diko, na nagbabasketball. Tigdadalawang ream ng Marlboro Green at Winston Lights ang nasa pagitan ng mga hita ni nanay. Apat na jar ng Skippy Peanut Butter, dalawang dishwashing liquid, isang Kiwi glass cleaner at tig-aanim na Colgate at Aqua Fresh ang nakasiksik sa kilikili ni nanay. Hati-hati na kayo, huwag san kayong mag-aagawan.

Isang dosenang Wonder bra na gustong-gusto ni Tiya Iska, suot-suot din ni nanay. Alam kong inaasam-asam nyo 'yan, tiya. Ang Rolex na bilin-bilin mo tatay, suot-suot ni nanay. Kunin mo agad, tatay. Ang hikaw, singsing at kuwintas (na may nakakabit pang anim na nail cutters) na gustong-gusto mo, ditse, ay suot-suot din ni nanay. Kunin mo na rin agad, ditse. Isang Ray Ban ladies sunglass na pabirthday ko kay Ninang Berta, hindi ko ba pinasuot kay nanay. Isiniksik ko na lang sa may bandang ulunan ni nanay. Nasa pink na plastik na maliit. Mga Chanel at Champion na medyas, suot-suot din ni nanay. Tig-iisa kayo, mga pamangkin ko. Mga pampers, panty liners, cotton buds, cotton balls, table napkins at mga scotch brite na may foam ay natatakpan ng mga puting bath towels...yon bale ang pinangkutson ko sa kabaong ni nanay. Marami- rami rin iyon. Parte-parte rin kayo. Marami pa akong ipinagsisiksik kung saan-saang parte gaya ng cafe, coffee creamer,
ilang vienna sausage na de lata, Barbie dolls, toothbrush, paper cups, plastic spoon and pork, paper at styrofoam plates, perfume, cologne, ballpens, stationaries, envelopes, bar soaps, Matchbox toys, used t-shirts, hand towels, CD, VHS tapes, padlock, tools gaya ng screw driver, plais, long nose, atbp. Hindi ko na na-itemize ang mga ito dahil nagmamadali ako.

Marami pa sana akong ipaglalalagay kaya lang, baka mag-excess at si nanay pa ang maiwan. Basta parte-parte kayo, tatay, kuya, ate, dikong, ditse. Para sa inyo lahat ito. Bahala na kayo kay nanay.
Pamimisahan ko na lang siya rito. Balitaan ninyo na lang ako pagkatapos ng libing. Paki-double check ang lista kung walang nawala sa mga ipinadala ko.

Nagmamahal, Maria

P.S. PAKIBIHISAN ninyo agad si Nanay!

Tip of the Iceberg
Posted in Love and other Disasters

Its been a while since I last posted an original entry. So much has happened in the last few days...a lot of thoughts have crossed my mind, a lot of feelings verbalized...but there were far more realizations and precious lessons learned.

I lost a friend. And though we did not really share a deep friendship, it was that affinity of being with him every night for a year and a half that left me with a sense of loss. I danced with Dexter Chavez practically everyday, and I just woke up one day realizing that we will never be able to do that again. He was 29, a veterinarian, in the prime of his youth, at the height of his career. Dear God, there must be a reason why you took him.

Days have mellowed that sense of loss, turned grief into humility and tears into smiles. He will be missed dearly but remembered for bringing a smile to everyone's lips just by being there. I lost Dex, but I gained a deeper friendship with Joey, Vic, Juvie,  June, Apple, Vlad, Jay-R, Tiffany, Chester, and a host of others. Yes, I'm proud to say they're all my friends now, not just mere acquaintances at the gym.

But apart from making me ponder on a lot of things going on in my life,  Dexter's passing allowed me to mend a dear friendship I thought I had lost...I have often written about him here--the Jackass. We held hands the first night of Dex's wake, after two months of hardly speaking to one another. Somehow all our hurts and petty arguments melted away at the news of Dexter's death. Life is short, I told him. Indeed it is, he agreed. In the middle of the night, we burned phone lines again...like it was before.

If love is lovelier the second time around. Maybe friendships can run by that rule too. It's a much more mature and stable relationship between two people who tried to make meaning out of what they had, but gave up on it...too soon. You see I thought he never cared...I never felt that I mattered to him. I always told him I felt like an uninvited guest in his life.... But then again, isn't it also true that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want to be loved, it doesn't mean he doesn't love you with all he has?

I guess he did care. I guess he did love me in his own way. It is only now, after taking off my rose colored glasses, after the last of the feelings have melted away (has it? that's the eternal question), do I see that I have been only looking at the tip of the iceberg all along. That underneath the hostility, the apparent coldness in his actions, his heart did beat for me all along. 

Oh how the Jackass loathed this guy at the gym...hated his guts...to the point of being overly critical of everything the man said and did. And now he tells me it was because he thought of him as competition, a rival....for my attention and my affection. Suddenly its like seeing a jigsaw puzzle fall right into place before my very eyes. Clarity, at last. But five months too late.

I wouldn't want to think that I drove him into the arms of someone else. I don't want to start thinking and feeling deep regret...I told him tonight, its better that we're like this now...the best of friends...even if he leaves and flies 10,000 miles away we'll always have this odd friendship. I'm just happy. I smile wistfully as I recall the feeling of him holding my hands at the funeral...the Jackass telling me that should he die anytime soon, he wouldn't want me to find out....so I won't cry. Now I know. After everything that has been said and done, I learn how deeply he values me.

Too late, true. Nevertheless, I'm glad I found out that I mattered, that I meant something to him, way back then and until now. I may not be the woman he professes undying devotion to, or the one he promises to give his name to...but now I'm sure of what place I have in his life. I have no regrets, bespren. Love has many forms, and not all meaningful relationships have to be romantic in nature. I'm glad I have you, and at least, (eventhough there's a slight tinge of sadness in my smile) I can rest easy, knowing fully well that my name has a special place in your heart...as yours does in mine.

Angel's LSS: If I Ain't Got You
24/7 Reading List: The Winner by David Baldacci
Silverscreen Pick: Desperate Housewives
Differential Diagnosis: touched

The Discus Thrower
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**This is something I can fully attest to. Kadalasan nag co complain ako why my share of burdens and trials seem heavier than the others. It's as though lagi akong may "Extra Challenge" from God sa lahat ng aspects ng life ko...it was only recently that I realized the true purpose behind it all--I was building spiritual muscle, toughening up, so to speak. I have seen the value of going through the test of fire and emerging in one piece, albeit badly scarred and bruised...it enables you to find strength and courage. --stephie--

May the God of all grace,… after you have suffered a while, perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle you. 

A Scottish athlete in the 19th century made an iron discus based on a description he read in a book. What he didn’t know was that the discus used in official competition was made of wood with only an outer rim of iron. His was solid metal and weighed three or four times as much as those being used by other discus throwers.

According to author John Eldredge, the man marked out the record distance in a field near his home and trained day and night to match it. For years he labored until he could break the record. Then he took his iron discus to England for his first competition.

When he arrived at the games, he was handed the official discus. He easily set a new record, a distance far beyond those of his competitors. He remained the uncontested champion for many years. This man trained under a heavy burden and became better for it.

When we are given a heavy burden to bear, we need to learn to bear it in Jesus’ strength and for His sake. Whatever the burden or suffering, God will use it to "perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle" us, as 1 Peter 5:10 says.

Our burdens can make us better than we ever imagined – stronger, more patient, more courageous, more gentle, and more loving than we could otherwise be. – David H. Roper

Without my trials and hardships

I would never know the way

That You turn burdens into blessings

With every passing day.

Between Two Worlds
Posted in



By Kari West

     At Pillar Point Lighthouse, south of San Francisco, where the ocean gives way to the land, I stood on the edge of two worlds.  That day my thoughts were as restless as the relentless sea pummeling the shore below.  I was floundering, torn between the deep attachments of the past and the pressing need to let go of them forever.  I was almost ready to give up.
     Me, single again?  I can't do this!  Two months earlier, my husband had suddenly walked out of our marriage.  The discovery of multiple affairs going back decades left me breathless.  Now, as a single working mother of a teenager, I felt overwhelmed.  Sometimes I felt I could make it through, but at other times I just wanted to die.
     That particular Sunday afternoon, Eleanor, a woman I knew from church, suggested that we go and pick blackberries at the ocean.  So we had driven down the coast and stopped at this bluff to stretch our legs and absorb the view.
     I didn't know Eleanor well, but she turned out to be good company.  As we gazed down at the ocean she turned to me and said, very deliberately, "The kind of men who sneak around and walk out on marriages are not worth crying over."
     So began my friendship with Eleanor.  I soon discovered that as a divorced woman herself, she had also stood where I was now - and that she had not only survived, but flourished.
     In the months that followed, Eleanor taught me how.  "Lighten up. Simplify," she said.  I began by getting rid of the heavy furniture I couldn't lift on my own.
     "Why hold on to all those knickknacks and holiday ornaments, if they have such heavy memories?" she asked.  So I held a garage sale to make room for new memories and traditions.  I bought a small house across town and redecorated the black vinyl and beige with colorful floral patterns.  Instead of bemoaning that my daughter chose to spend that first Christmas with her father, I took the week off work to travel to Israel.
     Slowly, I got my feet wet with all this single stuff.  Eleanor was always there for me.  She let me have the keys to her house so I could have a quiet place to go when she was at work, and she said I could call her anytime, day or night.  I thought of her as my "3 a.m. friend."  What a gift she gave me!
     I found myself wanting what Eleanor had.  That wisdom.  That twinkle in the eye that said that life is good and we are here to enjoy it.  Just watching her move smoothly, creatively through her life helped.  I thought, Maybe one day I'll be where she is.
     Although our paths took different directions in the years that followed, Eleanor and I always managed to pick up our friendship where we left off.  To this day, I continue to admire how she carries herself with flair through life's ups and downs.  She has a way of putting things into perspective.
     It is in part because of Eleanor that I have realized one special dream.  While I was going through all my emotional turmoil, I hoped that someday I would be able to write about it and so help other women in the same situation.  Inspired by watching Eleanor turn a hobby of oil painting into a home business, I left behind a thirty-year career to become a freelance writer.
     One day I was at a writer's conference having an article based on my experience reviewed by an editor.  In the middle of our session she suddenly broke down and said, "I'm going through this same thing right now!"
     She was obviously in distress.  I gave her a hug and told her she would get through it; there was a future out there, even though she might not be able to see it at the moment.
     Over the next few months, we stayed in touch, and then it occurred to me that she and I would make a perfect writing team.  The combination of my weathered experience and her raw pain would enable us to write a book that would mentor other women in similar situations.  When I told her my idea over the telephone she was very enthusiastic, and as we said good-bye she added, "I want my twinkle back - the twinkle that I see in your eyes!"
     I closed my eyes for a moment as I realized what had happened: I had become for my new friend what my old friend Eleanor had always been for me.  Twelve years had passed since that Sunday afternoon when Eleanor and I stopped at the lighthouse.  And now I knew what Eleanor must have known as we stood looking down at the ocean pounding at the shore: There is a place where the turbulent sea gives way to firm, dry land.  And when you find that place, you become a beacon of hope for others who are still floundering in the waves.

Finding the Right Person
Posted in Love and other Disasters

     "Finding the right person is very hard and very wrong. It is best to be the right person for the one you love and start from there. You'll always end up disappointed when you set standards and define a "right person" for you...and don't rush things coz somewhere somehow God is preparing somebody for you."
     Don't be in a hurry to get into a relationship because you can never find love if you insist that you are already into it. Try to find time to really understand your real feelings, to know who you really are, and what you really want in a relationship.
    You're right, there's no such thing as a perfect relationship, but there's a compatible partnership that goes along with it. If you already knew that you're too big to fit into a small sized t-shirt, don't give it a try. You'll probably break it and pay for the damages you have made. If you knew and felt that the relationship will not last, don't go deeper into it.
    You'll just suffer the consequences and live like hell for the rest of your life. It's really hard to say goodbye though, but you can't make it any better by just pretending you still have the same feelings.
    Try to let go and give yourself a chance to live life to the fullest. Give yourself a chance to grow and give your heart a much needed attention. Then you will find that you have made the right decision and you made it all by yourself. We call it love when we can't leave someone and see them crying as we try to let go.We are wrong, it's just pity. We call it love when we're too attached and think that losing the one we love will somehow make us weak and unable to face the storms of life. We misunderstood; it's just that we're too much dependent to them.
     We call it love when we give our whole life to them, the wholeness of us and imagined that if they leave, no one would accept us and our past. We are mistaken, its just insecurity. But no matter what the definition is, the truth still remains that love isn't something you can buy or beg. It is real and existing. You can't touch it but you can feel it in your heart. You can't find it, but it will knock before you when you least expect it to come. It can make you the happiest soul in heaven, but don't forget that it can also make you the most miserable person in the whole galaxy.
    "When you lose someone... and you think you were the one who loved most, between the two of you... he lost more. For someday you can love someone the way that you loved him...But he will never be loved again the way that you did."

Does God Live Under Your Bed Too?
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My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night. He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped outside his closed door to listen. "Are you there, God?"  he said. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed." I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor.

I  realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in. He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult. He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, That Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas, and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them. I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life? Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni and cheese for dinner, and later to bed.

The only variation in the entire scheme are laundry, when he hovers
excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child. He does not seem dissatisfied. He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work. He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for
his next day's laundry chores. And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. "That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his hands. His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.

And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips. He doesn't know what it means to be discontented. His life is simple. He will never know the entanglements of wealth or power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be. His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, His heart is completely in it. He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But, when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax. He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure.

He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, andwhen you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue. Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances. Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God. Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an "educated" person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.

In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith. It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions. It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap - I am.  My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they  all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care. Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God.

And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed. Kevin won't be surprised at all!         

Rainy Days on Mondays
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Some of us could only wish we still had the child-like innocence of Kevin (refer to post below). Truth be told, in our pursuit of success, happiness, and fulfillment, most of us have been led astray by the half-truths and whole lies fed to us by the world.

Over the weekend, I myself pondered on the kind of life I have and whether or not, underneath all the masks and layers of different skin I have put on all these years, I had an idea of where I was headed. I arrived at a dead end.

Sigh...Is it a sin to ask for more when I have been blessed with so much? I'm not rich, but all my needs have always been met. My family is not intact, but I have a supportive stepmother I get along with. My health is not perfect but my thyroid problem is under control and I do not spend a cent for my treatment.

I live alone, in a rented apartment in the city, but I have a family-owned house I can come home to every weekend. I have a Church community and a set trusted friends I can count on for support; close friends who sustain my coffee and pasta addiction, and yet more friends who keep adding color to my life. I have a good paying and not so demanding job and I still get to take in a few odd jobs here and there.

Life is good...God is good to me. This is why I feel so wretched praying for a significant other at a time when I am barely able to comfort my friends who are grieving over cheating boyfriends and irresponsible husbands. Here I am single, without a care in the world, and longing to belong to someone.

I must be NUTS. But I'm a hopeful kind of nut (if there's such a thing as one) because in my heart of hearts I believe God is preparing someone for me.

In the meantime, I have a life filled with family, friends, work, my Church community and now a writer's group (recently joined Pinoy Poets, I think they took me in out of pity) to spend my energy on. At least I can say with confidence that my life isn't empty just because I don't have a boyfriend. I have a purpose too--being there for others, extending a hand or lending an ear to a friend at the time he needs it.

It sounds simple,I know. But I'd rather be that than filled with illusions of grandeur which I can't ever achieve. I keep remembering Mother Teresa's words: loneliness is the biggest cancer of our times (or something to that effect), and it hit me...millions are lonely because they deny others the gift of themselves.

It's a rainy Monday afternoon and my work here at the office is almost done. But my day as an angel has barely begun.

Angel's LSS: Johanna's House Music
24/7 Reading List: Angela's Ashes by Frank Mc Court
Silverscreen Pick: Desperate Housewives Episode 14
Differential Diagnosis: Counting My Blessings

Turbulence
Posted in

(Red) Wine Nights and Desperate Housewives
Posted in

I came in a good 10 minutes ahead of Miel (one of my best girlfriends and future kumare) at San Mig Pub in Alabang Town Center last night. And, although I absolutely abhorred waiting by my lonesome, I indulged her , she being six months pregnant and all. She called in and asked me to order a hefty serving of seafood paella (thumbs up, promise!) since it took quite a while to prepare.

For lack of anything better to do, I perused the drink list and saw that all alcoholic beverages were at half price. I smiled and asked for a glass of red wine. It was like coming home...over mouthfuls of paella and happy chatter with my very pretty and very pregnant companion, I ended up downing three more glasses of red wine. I was full and happily inebriated, but oh the night was far from over.

Desperate Housewives is the new tv series we're currently crazy about at work. It tells the story of four well, as the title implies, housewives in varying degrees of desperation. The narrator is dearly departed Mary Alice, whose suicide and real identity is the knot that ties all unbound ends of Desperate Housewives.

Miel has her own story, and so does my other bestfriend Rochelle. Both women wed very recently, after whirlwind courtships, resulting to difficulties in adjustment and adaptation. Playfully, I call them the Desperate Housewives of Hysteria Lane (Wisteria Lane in the actual series).

I must admit I am both amused and touched by the transition my two friends had to go through in the last six months. Kissing their single lives filled with night outs, beer, cigarettes and parties goodbye, they happily embraced married life (and for Miel, motherhood). They have changed so much I doubt they still recognize themselves in the mirror.

I cannot and will not share the deep, dark secrets of any of my friends in this blog, but I will go this far as to generalize: marriage can scare the living daylights out of even the toughest men and women. If you  have neither the strength nor the patience to endure bouts of word wars; endless arguments with childish and at times irresponsible spouses who can't even wake up on their own....or aren't willing to part with their dear playstations...don't plan on getting hitched anytime soon.

As romantic as it is, as perfect as it sounds, married life isn't everything little girls dreamt it up to be. There aren't prince charmings and golden castles, and certainly, there's no such thing as happily ever afters. The good thing about it though, is that marriage could actually work. If both parties are willing to share, talk, listen, compromise and grow with each other, the chances of them staying together til they're old and grey is almost guaranteed. But it has to be a concerted effort.

I pray for my friends and their spouses...as well as all the Desperate Housewives out there, if not for them I wouldn't be having any more wine nights, and I wouldn't be desperately wishing to be one of them soon.

Angel's LSS: If You're Gone
24/7 Reading List: Pinoy Poets Messages on Yahoo!
Differential Diagnosis: Desperate, hehe!

Hamog
Posted in

** I haven't written poetry in ages. Jokingly, I tell my friends I traded in my quill for a typewriter. When I took up Journalism, Prof. Ramon Francisco became my muse, and from then on, the poet in me slowly died. But I have been blessed with a second chance, (thanks to Makatang Kiko who encouraged me to join Pinoy Poets. mwah! mwah!) and although it feels like taking baby steps all over again, I'm thankful.

Filipino was never one of my favorite subjects. But I am a bulakeña, and i'd hate for the long-buried Francisco Balagtas to come visit me for tutorials. For whatever it's worth, here it is, my first born.

HAMOG

Sinabi mo,

tinipong luha ng mga tulad kong anghel ang ulan.

Biyaya; malaking pagpapala,

pinabubuhos ng Lumikha,

pandilig sa tigang na lupa.

(Minsan,

pambanlaw din sa nanlilimahid na kaluluwa).

Humihiling kang umulan

nang maski papano'y maibsan

ang init at alinsangang kasiping mo sa magdamag.

Mga banayad na patak,

mumunting daliring hahaplos sa nangungulila mong kalamnan.

Masusuyong halik, matatamis na ngiti,

dadaloy sa natuyot  nang gunita.

Paano’y kaytagal na, (sabi mo),

buhat ng huling umulan.

Gayumpaman,

nananalig ka, nanampalataya,

darating siya sa itinakdang araw nang Ama,

at magbabago ang lahat.

Tulad mo,

ako rin, naninikluhod na umulan.

                                   Buong hinagpis na tumatawag ng kidlat at hangin,

nagmamakaawang lunurin na ng langit.

Pagal na sa pagluha ang anghel na ito.

Dahil sabi mo,

hanggang ngayon,

hamog lang ako sa buhay mo.

A.S.Cruz

May 13, 2005

Starting the Week Right
Posted in

"Courage is fear that has said its prayers." 

When you love your Creator with everything you’ve got, things come in amazing and miraculous ways. You always get what you need. You always get taught the lessons you need right now. You always find purpose in your life. You’re always safe, and fine.

Sometimes it takes us a while to realize that a hard spot in our lives was a blessing. Sometimes we don't realize right away that we already have what we've been searching for and needing.

Here's a special prayer for those under my care*:

Today and everyday, may the Good Lord look upon you with kindness. May there be reason for you to smile amid the trials, challenges, and adversities you are faced with. Remember that no matter how much pain you may feel you are in, or how sad and lonely you think yourself to be, you are never alone.

At your weakest, God will give you strength; At your saddest, He will give you cause for joy; and at the darkest point in your life, God will show you light.

May the Good Lord Bless and Keep all of you in the hollow of His hands.

* Miaw Lee and my unborn inaanak; Bengot and kids; Chelly and Nelo; Roumel, Mark and Fjord: Joey and Eric; Chris and Jay; Pongkiks; Ate Judith; Kuya Panggoy; Reghie, Hanna,  Maita, Jon, Divine, Chinie, Janet and Em; Lea, Apet, Doc Vikes, Apple, Vic, June, Ate Sol, Yna, Sisters Mona, Aida, Lolit, Baby and Lota of SLG; Mikey and Hikari; Sam, Filbert, Bardo, Kewlasa and last but not the least, Makatang Kiko.

May all your prayers and special intentions be heard and granted !

Angel's LSS: No Frontiers by The Corrs

Courtroom and Online Dramas
Posted in

This Angel played hooky today and ditched work!   Just kidding. 

I took a leave to attend trial at the Quezon City Hall of Justice bright and early this morning. While ours was settled amicably ( I walked home several thousand pesos richer, thanks be to God!), there were about 23 other cases being heard at the sala of Judge Ma. Theresa De Guzman at RTC Branch 35. I've seen 'em all. Burglary, theft, oral defamation, homicide (ay! wala naman palang rape case, buti na lang.) and so on.

Here Lie Angel's Hopes and Dreams

This is my first time to be in an actual court trial, and it was, if I may say, a learning experience as it was an entertaining one. I sat in rapt attention and tried to catch every exchange between the prosecutors and everyone there. Each sentence was peppered with "your honor", "respectably", "move to",  "push for",  "objection", and other legalese.

Sigh. As far as I can remember, I dreamt of becoming a lawyer since I was three. I read courtroom dramas, watched them and practically idolized John Grisham. I was on my way there when the media bug bit me.

Working for TODAY changed everything. It was a totally different lifestyle and a new planet. Creative writing took a back seat and my dream of being a hotshot lawyer was relegated to the deepest recesses of my subconscious...until I saw and heard Hon. Judge De Guzman. Seeing her in her black robes, looking so poised and dignified as she chattered off decisions and shot questions at the defense and prosecution lawyers flew me right into "The Practice".

I guess childhood dreams really don't die...they just get cryogenically frozen. It's so much a part of who you are that you become a totally different individual if you try to part with it.

Ahh. ..maybe I should dig a grave and mark it: Here lie my hopes and dreams and have it looking like a court decision. It is a tombstone for the instrument of justice that I had always wanted to become, but could never be.

Strangers and Pilgrims

Since I became single talking to strangers didn't bother me anymore. Some people may find that unusual but I was the type who couldn't even eat lunch alone at a fastfood. I said was, because now that I don't have a boyfriend anymore, I am forced to eat by my lonesome whenever I'm out. It took me a long time to be able to do this and not feel like everyone's eyes are on me, but now I do find it a welcome respite from one too many lunch outs and dinners with my friends.

It's like being alone feels good after being in a crowd.

While waiting for trial to begin, I chatted with the traffic investigator who handled our case. He's a father of three and a part time instructor at Ateneo de Manila University. Are you ready for this? they got him in the PNP to play chess.

Yup. PO3 Perlito Datu lived his life as a chess player. He was able to finish school on scholarships and grants he won by bringing honors to his school and eventually to the Philippines. He was offered a slot in the police force to train cops to play world class chess. Eventually, he got tired of playing day in and day out. Having had a traumatic experience with vehicular accidents (he lost his 13 year old brother), he opted to be active in traffic investigation, where he was also given recognition.

I spent at least an hour talking to him about chess, teaching, his work and his family. Before the conversation ended, I came to the conclusion that yes, there are still public servants who take the word service to heart--PO3 Datu is one of them.

10 am...I had to eat a substantial meal for my lab tests (forever blood extraction, grrh!) so I walked to the nearest KFC and ordered food. Not two minutes after setting my tray down the table did an elderly woman approach me and asked if she and I could share the table. I agreed, she seemed pleasant and in the mood to chat.

I dug into her life with much gusto as I did my plate of spaghetti and spicy chicken.

Vampires Make Sad Poets

The medical technologist at Healthway Alabang already knows me by name. She draws a vial of blood from me at least once every week. I love my doctor, really, but the number of times he has asked for my blood chemistry is driving me crazy!

Dazed, I amble through the mall in search for something to do. I had a few hours to kill before the 6 pm mass at St. Jerome Parish...its wednesday, novena day, and I'm not about to miss it. Rounding the corner i spotted Netopia and went in, I could chat and make a blog entry. It's also a good opportunity to check messages of Pinoy Poets, a brady bunch of writers I tell you! (Today's topic, continued from yesterday, pdf copies of the Vampire Chronicles and Dan Brown novels which we members have. Sharing is Enriching so we pass pirated literature on too, hehe!)

Just my luck, a couple of poets were online. Apart from being exceptional writers, sadness is also one of their common traits. Do poets really need pain to be able to write? What is it with cigarettes and beer that loosen tongues, defrost emotions, and enables them to snatch ideas from thin air and weave them into words?

I used to be a sad poet too, I think I still am, until now. True, sadness is the infinite well that poets draw inspiration from, but I don't believe we need to wallow in it to give a credible representation of life.  

It is also true that majority of my works reek with sorrow and tragedy and the emotions written there are all heartfelt and sincere. But sad is not where I am now, those are all recollections of emotions I once experienced and thankfully, forgot.

To my sad poets: it would probably be a while before you are able to smile again, from the heart. Past hurts and loves, (lost or unrequited), leave trenches so deep it is often impossible to climb out of on your own. There are those who never recover, while there are others who believe they do, but end up living only some semblance of a life. I hope you do not become one of them.

By God's grace, may all your sorrows turn into joys and may each sad tear become a smile. Believe that you will find your someone in His perfect time..a greater love worth all the pain and joys of being in love.

That goes for me too.

I'm Getting Married...
Posted in

...to MYSELF!

Season Finale

We were watching Sex and The City reruns and this Carrie Bradshaw quote just about floored me. She announced to everyone that she was marrying herself just so she could get a decent wedding present from an old friend. No less than a spanking new pair of Manolo Blahniks would suffice! Well, Carrie girl got the shoes she wanted and eventually, at the end of the series, the man of her dreams and the "can't live without you" kind of love she had been waiting for all her life. Big flew all the way to Paris to rescue her and they lived happily ever after in New York.

Sigh. Lucky Carrie. I think I may eventually end up sending "Surprise, I'm Marrying Me!" invitations just  for kicks (with a subliminal message to family, friends and relatives: "please do not discuss my state of single blessedness in front of me like I have some kind of rare disease.) a few more years from now.

That is, if Saint Joseph doesn't intervene.

Wednesday Devotions

Just today I realized that people do actually read my blog , so I feel compelled to give a bit of a background. I'm 26 and I've been single for the last two and a half years...after a few failed relationships and several more near hits, I find myself jaded to ever join the dating world. I only dated once since I was always commited (so now I feel that the world owes me nothing since I have experienced the joys and pains of being in love waaaay too early!).

Bottomline: i want to get married. I'm not looking for the perfect man, because there isn't one, but the man whom God has prepared for me.

So instead of hitting  and missing and bawling torrents over another man, i opted to pray to St. Joseph for a God-fearing and righteous spouse. Okay, stop laughing now, I'm serious!

It may sound funny but I have three close personal friends whose mothers or aunts were devoted to St. Joseph and they did find good spouses...the catch? The guy's name has Jose, Joseph, Joshua or other derivatives. I haven't come across any yet that are suitable for me.

Anyway, they say good things come to those who wait.

One Good Eye, One Bloodshot 

I slept like the dead last night and forgot to remove my contact lenses. The result of course was a bloodshot right eye. I went to work wearing my eyeglasses and holding a towelette over the perpetually crying right one. I was in pain almost half the day from the glare of my computer monitor. Moral lesson: contact lenses come off before shut eye!

I couldn't stop and rest. though. There were emails to send, copies to write and edit and other duties to attend to. Blessedly, there's the Pinoypoets message board to look at from time to time. Each day with these guys is like being in Prof. Dimalanta's classroom all over again. There's so much creative juice flowing, and their works are just exceptional!

We're having a General Assembly tomorrow. Ahh, can't wait to get to the "other matters" hehe, right Ergoe?

Notes to Self

1. I need to go back to the gym. I look like an overstuffed sack of potatoes already. My friends have been texting me to come back and dance with them. I can't, I haven't even started with my boxing lessons yet.

2. See my dentist and my doctor this weekend.

3. Read more, write even more

4. Pray harder

5. Take my angel 24/7 ministry to heart. Yup...anyone who needs me, feel free to tag or leave a comment. I'm for real.

Bubbles
Posted in

By: Stephie

When uncertain, we drift to the familiar
Drawing comfort in the past
Doubt pushes fickle minds to double back
Claw at once-have –been’s
Stretching memories until they bend, rend, and tear out of shape.
The past, with its spinning images and nameless faces
Too familiar to forget but too vague to polarize with a date and place,
It reminds us of heartbeats that once raced and pulsed
Then flat- lined altogether.
There exists no time machine,
No way to undo the hurt nor erase the scars that have begun to fade.
We must stop picking at scabs lest we bleed again,
More profusely this time,
And be left unable to heal.
Living on moments is a luxury one cannot afford
Once you set foot on thin ice.
It’s a gamble where the stakes double by the hour
And you risk losing what to you is most precious and few.
They are but bubbles…
Borrowed snippets of eternity,
Fragments saved in a fragile capsule.
Perfect memories carried on through time,
Mine alone to savor and relive.
Let them be.
Let’s just create new memories.

Once Again, This Quote:
Posted

“I want to let you in on a secret. I’m not who you think I am. In fact, my disguise is so thin, I’m surprised you haven’t seen right through me. I’m the girl of your dreams masquerading as your best friend. Sometimes I want to rip off this facade like I did at the Spring Formal, but I can’t because you’ll get scared and you’ll run away again. So I decided that it’s better to live with a lie than expose my true feelings.

My dad told me there are two types of girls. The ones you grow out of and the ones you grow into. I really hope I’m the latter. I may not be the one you love today, but I’ll let you go for now, hoping one day you’ll fly back to me because I think you’re worth the wait.” - Chloe Sullivan's letter to Clark Kent

TGIF Funnies
Posted in Love and other Disasters

Sorry for being politically incorrect. I have nothing against blondes. Just a few funnies I read this morning.

                          She was Soooooooo Blonde

* She thought a quarterback was a refund.

* She thought General Motors was in the army.

* She thought Meow Mix was a CD for cats.

* She thought Boyz II Men was a day care center.

* At the bottom of an application where it says "Sign here:" she wrote "Sagittarius."

                      She Was Soooooooooooooo Blonde...

* She took the ruler to bed to see how long she slept.

* She sent a fax with a stamp on it.

* Under "education" on her job application, she put "Hooked On Phonics."

                 She was Sooooooooooooooooo Blonde...

* She tripped over a cordless phone.

* She spent 20 minutes looking at the orange juice can because it said "Concentrate."

* She told me to meet her at the corner of "WALK" and "DON'T WALK."

* She tried to put M&M's in alphabetical order.

                 She was Soooooooooooooooooooo Blonde...

* She studied for a blood test.

* She sold the car for gas money.

* When she missed bus #44 she took bus #22 twice instead.

* When she went to the airport and saw a sign that said, "Airport Left," she turned around and went home.

               She Was Sooooooooooooooooooooo Blonde...

* When she heard that 90% of all crimes occur around the home, she moved.

* She thought if she spoke her mind, she'd be speechless.

* She thought that she could not use her AM radio in the evening. *

*She had a shirt that said "TGIF," which she thought stood for "This Goes In Front."

                          She is sooooooooooooooooo Blonde...

She thinks Taco Bell is the Mexican phone company.

A SPECIAL GROCERY LIST
Posted in

Friends, here's something to tide you over the weekend. I found this to be very touching. I can attest that God does measure His aid by the depth of our needs. May the Good Lord sustain you and your loved ones through every trial and cross you bear. Have a happy weekend. God Bless everyone! ~Angel 24/7~

Louise Redden, a poorly dressed  lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery  store. She approached the owner of the store in a  most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a
few  groceries.
 
She softly explained that her husband was very  ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed  food. John Longhouse, the grocer, scoffed at her  and requested that she leave his store at  once.
 
Visualizing the family needs, she said: "Please,  sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can." John  told her he could not give her credit, since she did not have a charge  account at his store. Standing beside the counter was a  customer who overheard the conversation between the two.  The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would  stand good for whatever she needed for her family.
 
The  grocer said in a very reluctant voice, "Do you have a grocery  list?"
 
Louise replied, "Yes sir." "O.K" he said, "put  your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list  weighs, I will give you that amount  in groceries."
 
Louise, hesitated a moment with a bowed  head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece  of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece  of paper on the scale carefully with her head still  bowed. The eyes of the grocer and the customer  showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed  down. The grocer, staring at the scales, turned slowly  to the customer and said begrudgingly, "I can't  believe it."
 
The customer smiled and the grocer started  putting the groceries on the other s! ide of t he scales. The  scale did not balance so he continued to put more and  more groceries on them until the scales would hold  no more. The grocer stood there in utter disgust.  Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and  looked at it with greater amazement.
 
It was not a  grocery list, it was a prayer, which said: "Dear Lord,  you know my needs and I am leaving this in your  hands."
 
The grocer gave her the groceries that he  had gathered and stood in stunned silence. Louise  thanked him and left the store. The other customer handed a  fifty-dollar bill to the grocer and said; "It was worth  every penny of it.. Only God Knows how much a prayer  weighs."
 
THE POWER OF PRAYER: When you read  this, say aprayer. That's all you have to do. Just stop right  now, and say a prayer of thanks for
your own good fortune. Please feel free to send this to all your friends  and relatives. I believe if you will send this testimony  out with prayer in faith, you will receive what you need God  to do in your and your families' life.
 
So dear heart,  trust God to heal the sick,provide food for the hungry, clothes and  shelter for those that don't have as we do.

Pinoypoets Renga: Poste
Posted in

Guisadong Pansit
Posted in

**Happy Birthday Mommy

Magluluto ako ng pansit ngayon
dahil kaarawan ni Inay.
Ayon kasi sa kasabihan,
ang pansit daw pampahaba ng buhay.
 
Maaga akong bumangon,
ngumiti, naggayak para manindahan.
Kailangang espesyal ang guisadong pansit,
paboritong hain pa naman.
 
Nakahanda na ang lahat ng rekado:
mga gulay ginayat na manipis;
hinimay na mga lahok—baboy,
manok, laman loob
pati kawaling may mantikang umaaso.
 
Sumasagitsit habang iginigisa
bawang, sibuyas, atbp.
Nakatatakam na halimuyak
Nalalanghap sa buong kabahayan.
 
Ngunit bakit sa bawat pagluluto ng pansit
bumabalong mga ala-ala.
Ang panimplang patis at pansabaw na tubig
sing alat at lalim ng mga luha.
 
Ang paminta, maaanghang na salitang
hindi napigilang kumawala;
Sabaw na kumulo ng mahabang panahon
di nakuhang mapalambot mga pusong tikom.
 
Unti-unting inilalagay ang bihon
iniingatang huwag lumabsa.
Tulad ng bawat paglapit ko,
nangingiming muling mapahiya.
 
Luto na ang paboritong pansit ni Inay,
bagong hango at umuusok pa.
Pinagpagurang lutuin ngayong kaarawan niya,
pero tulad ng dati,
kakanin ko na namang nag-iisa.

The Invitation
Posted in Love and other Disasters

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with abandon and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. ---Oriah Mountain Dreamer

My Favorite Poem
Posted in

somewhere i have never travelled

e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)
Posted in

By Baz Luhrman

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97....Wear sunscreen.If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.

But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine. Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday. Do one thing every day that scares you. Sing. Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours. Floss. Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself. Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.Stretch.Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't. Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't.Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.Enjoy your body.Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.Dance - even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions., even if you don't follow them.Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

"Brother and sister together we'll make it through,Someday a spirit will take you and guide you there I know that you're hurting but I've been waiting there for you. And I'll be there just helping you out, whenever I can"

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good.Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young. Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.Travel. Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old.And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.Respect your elders.Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

"brother and sister together we'll make it through,someday a spirit will take you and guide you there, I know that you're hurting but I've been waiting there for you and I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can
everybody's free, everybody's free to feel good"

Like Water for Chocolate
Posted in

Its past 3 pm and I'm holding a steaming mug of mocha java in my left hand as  I smile to myself. Today was a pretty good day although the sky was a bit gloomier than usual. Peppered with rumbling thunder and streaks of lightning, it finally burst and brought forth a flood of angel tears.

I've always loved the rain. Be it a drizzle or the pelting kind like the one we're having now, rain always evokes in me a feeling of renewal and transformation. At times, feeling giddy, I stick my tongue out to catch a few stray drops and still get surprised at the feel of icy cold water against my normally warm tongue. I also recall several instances when, feeling depressed or lonely, I just let myself get drenched in the rain, school clothes and all, in the hope that rain would wash away all my sorrow.

Now that I'm 26, I no longer cry in the rain. Instead, I welcome it like a lover, filled with longing and hope, yearning and anticipation.

A perfect day  would be a rainy one with me in bed, clad in pajamas, and curled up reading a good book with a cup of hot chocolate at the bedside table. In between pages I would look up and watch the rain claw at the window or wait for the gentle rhythmic drumming to lull me to sleep.

Ah, bliss.

It's been raining non-stop for the last 45 minutes, I've downed the last drop of my drink and I'm on the 8th chapter of Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate. I've always heard good reviews about this book but never got to reading it until several  Pinoypoets members said my  "Gisadong Pansit" espoused some Esquivel influence (the style of melding powerful emotions in the preparation of food).

Reading always leads me to introspection for I always find a part of me in one of the characters. This time, its Tita: passionate in cooking, loving and crying and a veteran of long-suffering. I think Archie was right in alluding to this book when he commented on my poem. I was crying when I wrote Gisadong Pansit and was crying still when I cooked the dish. And although it did turn out well, everyone who partook of that tribute pansit felt the sadness I felt that day.

Sigh. No wonder I felt the urge to cook red pasta sauce last night and make it extra spicy by adding chili flakes!

Here's a great quote from the book: "We're all born with a box of matches inside us. We can't light them by ourselves, they can be lit from a melody, a sound, a caress, our lover's breath---anything that pulls the trigger and sets off one of the matches.  Every person has to discover what will pull the trigger and enable him to live, because it is the explosive flare of the match that feeds our souls.  If there's nothing to trigger the explosion, our box of matches becomes damp, and then we will never be able to light any of them. Of course, it is important to light the matches one at a time, because if an intense burst of emotion were to ignite them all at once, they would produce such a strong brilliance, that before our eyes would appear a tunnel of such radiance, showing us the path that we forgot at birth, the same path that calls us back to our divine origins".

Differential Diagnosis: Missing a Friend

I MISS YOU
Posted in Love and other Disasters

*for the ones we miss, used to miss, or haven't even come to know that we're missing them~stephie~

The three words that mean the most aren't I love you, with its history of being an accomplice to lies, with its bad reputation as a myth. What is I love you but the easy way out, the secret weapon revealed at the ends of long-drawn battles between desperation and despair? I love you is what you say when you run out of valid arguments but decide to keep fighting anyway. I love you is what you use when you want to appear to be someone you're not.

These are powerful words, powerful in the way that politicians and generals  are nowadays, worth their weight in gold. I love you has been the pillar of empires and friendships, and their causes for downfall. I love you is where you build the tower of your trust, only to see it crumble down when these words are said to someone else. I love you is what you use when you want to be unfair, when you want to deliberately hurt. I love you throws the whole
equation in chaos, unbalances the seesaw. It implies the loss of reason and pride, but is used to manipulate, to blackmail, leaving behind disillusionment and disappointment.

The three words that mean the most aren't I want you, with its raw, blatant inconsideration, its implications of a primal need that is best released orgasmically. I want you is what spoiled brats say, its what selfish bitches say, its what horny boys say. I want you is harsh, said through clenched teeth, said with wild eyes. I want you is a physical sentence, the amalgamation of skin against a number of factors: skin on skin, fingernail on skin, teeth on skin. It is violent and rapid, a whirlwind of emotion, an explosion of saliva and other bodily fluids. These are words that have no origin, they emerge from the basest of instincts, they are triggered by smell, by touch, by the look of rawness in another persons eyes.

These are words that signal the coming of a storm, and like most storms, they wreak havoc and then depart, leaving behind ruin and wounds.

The three words that mean the most aren't I need you, with its childish, clingy implications, its sad, pathetic grievances. I need you leaves you open, blinding you to yourself, eradicating all traces of self-respect. I need you is the dying breath of a failed relationship. It is the battlecry of an overpowered suitor. These words signal the clinging to memories that are either long gone, or never were. These words bypass true necessity to make fools out of the sayers. These are not words to be used by all; it takes the strongest persons to relay this message correctly. Otherwise all is naught, you only reveal yourself as an empty shell craving for something, anything, to fill it. But then, the strongest persons never have the need to say these words. Its the irony of life. These words are like taking a knife to your throat and piercing your skin gently, leaving behind a trail of blood too thin for anyone to see, but painful enough for you to feel.

The three words that mean the most, I think, the ones that really hit the mark, and often in the most unexpected of ways, are I miss you. This is the sentence that sends the message right home. Because what other message is there? Nothing else, except exactly just that, I miss you, and everything else is pulled along into it, like a chain reaction. Unlike I love you and the lies that go along with it, I miss you is honest and sincere, you only say it when you mean it, and you don't have to mean it in a big way to really mean it.

Unlike I want you and its expectations, I miss you offers all it has, and waits for nothing in return. Unlike I need you and its desperate whines, I miss you stands on its own, a whole entity in just three words, devoid of arms that cling to you for life.I miss you means everything and nothing, it is unflinching and honest. It is upbeat and simple, with wisps of longing and clouds of hope. You miss people you used to love, people you used to want, people you used to need. But most of the time the missing is all that's left, and that's OK, there's nothing else you'd change.

The missing implies a past that remains in its rightful place. Or it implies the reality and possibilities of the present. It is hope and love and lust and peace all at the same time. Some people say that when they met that person, it was akin to coming home. And missing is this manifestation of home-sickness, the way people return to their homelands to die, the way all the comfort the world has to offer is nothing compared to the feeling of being in someone's arms.

And that's why I miss you, because you're not here, and because every time I think about you, that's all that I think. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, and the world turns for both of us.

Angel's LSS: Breathing by Lifehouse

"The Trouble With Love Is"
Posted in Love and other Disasters

by: Kelly Clarkson

Oooh oooh, ooooh yeah, mmmm...

Love can be a many splendored thing
Can't deny the joy it brings
A dozen roses, diamond rings
Dreams for sale and fairy tales
It'll make you hear a symphony
And you just want the world to see
But like a drug that makes you blind,
It'll fool ya every time

The trouble with love is
It can tear you up inside
Make your heart believe a lie
It's stronger than your pride
The trouble with love is
It doesn't care how fast you fall
And you can't refuse the call
See, you got no say at all

Now I was once a fool, it's true
I played the game by all the rules
But now my world's a deeper blue
I'm sadder, but I'm wiser too
I swore I'd never love again
I swore my heart would never mend
Said love wasn't worth the pain
But then I hear it call my name

(The trouble with) The trouble with love is
It can tear you up inside
Make your heart believe a lie
It's stronger than your pride
The trouble with love is
It doesn't care how fast you fall
And you can't refuse the call
See, you got no say at all

Every time I turn around
I think I've got it all figured out
My heart keeps callin' and I keep on fallin'
Over and over again
The sad story always ends the same
Me standin' in the pourin' rain
It seems no matter what I do
It tears my heart in two

(The trouble with love is) The trouble with love, yeah
(It can tear you up inside) It can tear you up inside
(Make your heart believe a lie) Make your heart believe a lie
It's stronger than your pride

(The trouble with love is)
It's in your heart
It's in your soul (doesn't care how fast you fall)
You won't get no control
(and you can't refuse the call)
See, you got no say at all

(The trouble with love is) Oh, yeah
(It can tear you up inside)
(Make your heart believe a lie)

Mga Andoy ng Lunes ko
Posted in

MONDAY mornings are usually crunch time at the office,. It's the only day of the week when all the managers and department heads meet to discuss production schedules and give me a long list of things to do, along with the corresponding deadlines for each task. Generally, I don't like Mondays, but today's an exception.

I woke up to the sound of gently falling rain and the smell of fresh morning dew. I greeted the morning with a smile and looked forward to a brand new week. Busy as I was, I still checked all incoming messages from Pinoy Poets. There was an ongoing "katayan" session on Andoy's "Linger", I dabbled in the conversation in between lay outs and sending email blasts but I think my reading of the first two lines was totally off.

Andoy, I liked your poem, honest. The rain must have caused my brain to short circuit. Sorry!

I also received a heart tugging email from a highschool batchmate. It was the story of a young boy named Andoy who was very close to Jesus. It's something like Marcelino Pan y Vino, but Andoy is a 4th grader from Masbate. The story warmed my heart so I emailed the sender to express my appreciation. That story started off a series of email exchanges that lasted more than half day.

Jools, as it turns out, is also active in the Catholic Charismatic movement. He even invited me to attend their Friday prayer meetings at Rockwell, but I politely declined out of loyalty to my own community, (although I did promise to drop by one time and meet them), but I think we forged a bond today that four years in UST failed to build.

Sa mga Andoy ng Lunes ko, maraming salamat for giving me more reason to smile this morning. You definitely made my day extra special hehe!

Oh, before I forget...I'm saying a prayer for Levi and Jonar today. May you find whatever it is you're searching for.

Angel's LSS: Someone to Watch Over Me
Differential Diagnosis: blessed

Let Me Hold Your Hand:
Posted in



A little girl and her father were crossing a bridge. The father was kind of scared so he asked his little daughter, "Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don't fall into the river." The little girl said, "No, Dad. You hold my hand." "What's the difference?" Asked the puzzled father..

"There's a big difference," replied the little girl. "If I hold your hand and something happens to me, chances are that I may let your hand go. But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no matter what happens, you will never let my hand go."

In any relationship, the essence of trust is not in its bind, but in its bond. So hold the hand of the person whom you love rather than expecting them to always hold yours.

The Best Kind of Love
Posted in

** Here's praying that we all find this kind of love in our lives. If you already have, I hope you're wise enough not to let him or her go. I still believe in happy endings. ~stephie~

by: Annette Paxman Bowen

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl. "I am young again!" she shouts exuberantly.As my friend raves on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old one.

My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home. When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?", I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, and communication.

Yet there's more. We still have fun. spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together. And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" (my cooking kettle) and the "treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.

There is understanding.

I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and even him to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

There is sharing.

Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'd read it.

There is forgiveness.

When I'm embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."

There is sensitivity.

Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year old woman that had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman's husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis, because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith.

Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer's disease on her father-in-law's personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, this is too much heartache for one week. Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head. I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly young: we've experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories. I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line "Grow old along with me!"

We're following those instructions. "If anything is real, the heart will make it plain." There are some people who meet that somebody that they can never stop loving, no matter how hard they try. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, or even believe it, but trust me, there are some love that don't go away.

And maybe that makes them crazy, but we should all be blessed to end up with that somebody who has a little of that insanity. Somebody who never lets go. Somebody who cherishes you forever.

Maria's Diary:
Posted in Love and other Disasters