i told eric that i would blog. and here it is! i think this will turn out to be a rambling blog. disorganized. just like my state of mind. and just like my place which, right now, has stuff and boxes scattered all over.

packing is a hassle sometimes. it shouldn't be if all i had to do was simply stuff everything into boxes and not care about how cost-efficient it will be. but since i want to put as much of the heavy stuff as i can into the balikbayan box so that i can save on shipping costs, then it becomes a hassle. but, i'd still prefer to go through the hassle if that means i can save on costs substantially. it's just another case of balancing priorities.

just like life, i guess. if you don't care about what will happen then you can sail smoothly through it, unmindful of consequences. who would care, anyway? but, if you want to organize your life so you can get the best out of it -- or of the afterlife -- then you make yourself struggle through planning things, setting priorities, self-control, discipline, persisting. because you know that, in the end, it will be all worth it.

but,  how do you know? what makes you think that whatever you'll get in the end is really worth the struggle that you're making yourself go through now?

does anyone really know?

it's all the same isn't it?

whether it's a canvas, a piece of paper, a room, a stage, an event or life.

you need a theme -- or a statement, or a goal, or a purpose -- whatever you want to call it.

and then a central or focal point.

... and color,
  ... balance,
    ... and harmony.

i just have to say this...

i love nanny. don't know why... but i just love the way she blogs!

it seems that back home they are fielding contractual workers to help rebuild iraq. one of my friends is already there. it took only a week for his papers to be processed and he was sent off right away.

his cousin, a very close friend of mine, wants to go, too. he is excited that there won't
be a lot of fuss in the processing so he's pretty sure that he can go. he said the contract
is for two years and he will be getting about US$600 a month.

i remember the last time i was home early this year. he told me then that he doesn't have any plans yet of leaving the country to work abroad. he wants to be there until the time when his sons, who are now aged 4 and 3, are in grade school because he wants to be sure that he can guide them during those first years of school and sow the seeds of  good habits before he leaves.

i have seen how much he loves his sons. he really takes pride in them. i have seen how much they enjoy being together. i can still hear their laughter in my head.

and now, for $600, he will miss their growing-up years and i know they will miss each other a lot.

separation in exchange for a small sum. it's the price that our families pay.

for what? i don't really know. for our poverty? for a government which doesn't have a more viable way of curbing unemployment? for cultural flaws which have been blamed for our seeming inability to improve our national situation?

i don't know. i will leave the analyses to those who still have the passion for it.

all i know right now is it makes me want to cry.

my bedmate...

taking it easy on a saturday afternoon.

she should consider herself lucky that she can afford to do that and not worry about keeping the place clean and doing the laundry!

just as i consider myself  lucky to have a husband who loves to cook, something that i don't like doing. *makes a face* 

i don't mind helping him cook. but instead of doing it by myself, i'd rather clean the stove, get rid of CLUTTER (!!!), and wash the dishes, or wash clothes by hand, or (my favorite thing...) clean the bathroom!!!

i don't why it's like that. maybe because i'd rather play with water than with fire?  (now, i'm sure, my husband appreciates that really well. hahaha!)

so it's an arrangement that works well for us.

***

i wasn't thinking when i was typing to go to eric's site...

and found eric and minky!

they seem to be talking the same language. do you think they understand each other? or know each other?

and i also stumbled on a xangan, ghost68, who has the same birthday as eric although he was born in 1984 and eric was born in 1948! (this may sound silly but little things like this gives me a thrill.)

***

when there's nothing to blog, then babble.
just done that.

ciao!

keys-me-not

I had a tiny problem this morning.

I’m staying in an apartment block which has a communal laundry which locks automatically and we’re provided keys to it. This morning, some time after I had chugged my laundry into the washing machine and gone back to my place, I realized I didn’t know where my keys were. I forgot where I dropped them. The thing is, it’s a workday. Most people are out. And I would have to wait a looooong time before anyone would go to the laundry room so I can check if my keys are there. Ewww.

Good thing I found them in my room. Somewhere. I forgot where now.

Eric doesn’t understand how I can lose my keys. All the time. But I do.

Well, I don’t really lose them. I just forget them. I just forget where I placed them.

Sometimes I forget that they’re in my pockets. Or I remember that they’re in my pockets but I just don’t know which pants. Or which coat. Or which bag.

Or sometimes, I just forget to take them out from the door when I came in the night before. So when I rush out of my place in the morning, I find them there, patiently waiting to be taken out of the hole they’re stuck in. During the times this happened, Eric said: honey, don’t do that! That’s dangerous.

Hm. I don’t think he has heard about that time when I left them stuck in my mailbox. I got home at night and couldn’t find my keys. I rushed out again to go back to the office and look for them, and on my way out, I saw them! Dangling from my mailbox, which of course, has my apartment number in it. Haa… thank God for little miracles, they’re still there! …and there was no one in my apartment.

However, I promised Eric that I would never lose my keys again. (Note: that’s how he wants this blog to end). He said, if I lose them again, he will spank me.

Which reminds me… where are my keys now? 

depth has many levels. and so does shallowness.

there was a boy

it started with a love story set in a small town in mindanao. he was the youngest son of one of the town's influential clans. she was one of their maids. they fell in love. had a relationship.

when the family learned about it they sent him to manila to continue his studies. they intercepted the letters that he sent to her and told her that he had found a new girl. broken-hearted, she left the place and went back to her hometown. then they told him that she left and had married someone else.

it turned out that she was pregnant when she left and later on gave birth to a boy.

but since she was still young she got married a short time later and left the boy in the care of his grandmother.

the grandmother lived in the mountains, in the middle of the forest which was still part of the town of tubud in mindanao, where their nearest neighbor was several kilometers away and their main means of communication was through an ugong -- a huge piece of bamboo that has a hole cut from it -- which makes a loud sound when hit.

one of the boy's earliest memories was of being left to play on his own on top of a huge table, with his leg tied to something to prevent him from accidentally falling off, while his grandmother worked in the field digging for camote to eat.

and there was the time when his grandmother went off saying that she's going to kandula. she was gone for most of the day and came back late in the afternoon. he spent the whole day playing with their cats and dogs.

the first time he travelled down the mountain was when he was about 5 years old. they went to the town proper to have him vaccinated. he couldn't forget the day because on the trek down he stepped on a huge rock not realizing that it was slippery with the moss covering it. he slipped and fell to the river and was carried away by the current. his uncle had to run and chase him down the river to rescue him. he thought he would die then.

the second time he came down the mountain was to leave it for good. he was already seven years old and had to start school so his grandmother had decided to work as a live-in maid in the household of the elementary school principal. this will give her a more regular source of livelihood and allow him to study.

the family had a male boarder at that time, a new teacher in the elementary school. and it became the boy's main chore to shoo the flies away while the boarder eats his meals.

the boarder -- as it turned out later -- was the boy's father.

and that boy was my father.

the first time i heard that story so many years ago, i thought it was wonderful. it was one of those stories that would be good to pass down to generations and i have always wanted to write it. i thought this would be a good day to write it because it is his 61st birthday.

papa had always believed in knowing a little of everything and in a phone conversation early this morning he said: i think i have been successful in using God's gifts to me because i sent my children through school and they all have very good education.

  here is  picture of him singing the Song of Ruth at my
  wedding. yes, he was my wedding singer.

  we all thought he would cry during the wedding (because
  he always does that – he cried at my high school 
  graduation, he cried at my college graduation) but he did
  not. his aunts cried, though, when they heard him sing. 

happy birthday, popsie!

here is a guy....

who is also celebrating his birthday today: Henry.

he is the only guy, aside from my husband, who can make me weak at the knees. and that's when he makes me do those 10000 lunges and awfully heavy leg presses. (and he wonders why I'm gaining weight! but, of course, it's because my thighs have become massive and my legs have turned to steel - they feel heavy and leaded.)

he's good, though. (he must be if  he's making me go to the gym at 9am on a saturday). and has a very good sense of humor (although there is nothing funny in some of the exercises that he will make you do).

sorry, ladies, he is married AND a firm believer in karma so any thoughts of flings on the side are nada.

but, if you're after personal training, I'll send you his email address. be ready to get weak at the knees, though!

my husband must be really busy. i haven't seen him a lot on AIM today. :-/

oh, by the way, did you know that we're fans of macaulay culkin (pardon the spelling, if it's wrong)?

yep, we are.

cause he's home alone...
 and i'm home alone 2.

anyway, see ya again sometime!