tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74607802024-03-19T15:48:44.896+08:00MAITE APHRODITEAs a Goddess, I am beauty, love and sexual rapture.
As a mortal, I am a compulsive eater.COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.comBlogger374125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-35695233449521049782015-05-12T23:38:00.001+08:002015-05-12T23:38:51.914+08:00Stumped<br />
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Yesterday, I had lunch with these two girls from a
regional business news channel who wanted to get some insights on how local
businesses see the economy. Together
with the senior members of the team, we talked about how business has changed
for us over the years, especially the last few ones under this particular
president.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was pretty casual and I was getting questions I was
used to answering so, as far as I was concerned, it was pleasant chit chat over a free lunch. Not a bad way to start the
week. And then came the miss universe
question, “So, where do you see CID in 5 years?” I wish someone had been taking
a video at that point because I would have loved to see my face go blank. I had
no fucking idea what to say to that. Someone had to jump in and there was some
discussion around it and then we all moved on to dessert. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course I’m obsessing over that question still. I’ve
been thinking about it the whole day and I still cannot, for the life of me,
come up with an answer. How useless am I as head of this company?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Although, in my
defense, (and this is when I start to whine a little) it’s so hard to be a
working mom naman talaga and I was forced into this after Larry’s death and
right smack in the middle of my pregnancy which was immediately followed by the
arduous, albeit rewarding, task of motherhood.
And really, the brains of sleep-deprived, constantly-tired mothers of
toddlers have no room for long-term plans.
End of whine.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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So I have decided to get to an answer to this ASAP. And while I’m at it, where do I see myself in
5 years really? That’s the bigger,
harder question to answer. Requires thinking I neither have the time nor the inclination to do anymore. I can’t even string s few coherent thoughts
together to come up with a blog entry. See
how long ago this came after the last one.
It’s official. I am sabaw. The
zombies eat my brainzzzz.<o:p></o:p></div>
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COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-46838349531974981272014-09-05T18:20:00.000+08:002014-09-05T18:20:10.903+08:00Remembering SingaporeAgain, one of my blog entries for the now defunct www.singlehungryfemales.com blog I shared with deesj. Was looking for something else in my folder and found this. Might be a sign. <div>
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I wrote this in 2010 when we went to Singapore to watch Belle and Sebastian.<div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Eating Singapore</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first time I was in Singapore, I was
not really in Singapore. It was a
stop-over in Changi on my way to India that gave me my first taste of the first
world Asian country that punishes gumchewers.
Even then I was impressed by how such a massive structure filled with
people can be so organized and orderly.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last week, I was in Singapore for the
first time for real. This time though,
instead of the beautiful, huge and modern airport to welcome us, we touched
down at the Budget terminal. Believe me
when I say that nothing, not even Cebu Pacific’s cramped plane and
uncomfortable seats and roving sari-sari store, can make you feel like your on
a budget trip more than landing in Singapores budget terminal with Changi only
a few hundred meters away. In fact, if
the pilot had told us that we had just landed in Cebu, we wouldn’t have had any
problems believing him. Except it was a
cleaner Cebu terminal. A much much
cleaner Cebu airport.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clean.
If I were asked to describe Singapore in just one word, clean would
definitely be it. If I were given 100
words, I will use up 90 words to describe just how clean it is. And then somewhere in my last ten words, you
would hear “amazing architecture,”
“wonderful commuter-friendly transportation system,” and “quite
expensive,” as well. An injustice, I
know, to some very talented architects and engineers. But before anyone else, Singapore should hail
as heroes the men and women who keep the city super duper clean. “Even my booger here is white cos its so
clean,” said an utterly astonished Drach.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perhaps because it’s a little too clean,
or maybe because I grew up in a country that is a little too dirty and
polluted, Singapore felt a little unreal to me – a little synthetic even. It felt like instead of going to a country, I
visited a movie set of a first-world country where the citizens were really
just actors following a character guide on how citizens of a first-world
country should act. <i>Be polite. Be
accommodating. Not too friendly. Not too warm.</i> <i>Or else, lashings. </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friend, a Singapore resident for the
past two years, said that they are not a very imaginative people. “Cannot” (pronounced keh-nuh) is as much a
part of their vocabulary as “la”. Asking
your server if you can get mashed potatoes instead of fries with your food will
give you a very curt “keh-nuh” with a <i>what-is-written-is-all-there-is-duh-don’t-you-know-that</i>
look. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, all that aside, let me
categorically say that the soul of Singapore is in its cuisine. If you want to find personality in Singapore,
you will find it on your plate or in a hot kitchen or, of course, a hawker
center. To put it bluntly, a single
order of that spicy and juicy stingray dish has more personality than 10
Singaporeans put together. And ultimately,
that’s what you fall in love with when you visit Singapore. At least, that’s what I fell in love with,
absolutely crazy in love with. Their food is so good it made me want to
literally pull my hair out twice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first time was during dinner at
Chinatown. Again, a very clean
Chinatown. I know now that even if I
have already forgotten the name of that stall and the name of the street where
we found that stall, I will never forget that meal. My first stingray experience was nothing
short of an OH. MY. GOD. moment. This
stingray was not shy at all. It had no
problem introducing itself to my taste buds.
It was loud and dammit it was proud!
And why the hell shouldn’t it be, it was as mind-blowing as the last 10
minutes of the LOST finale for me. The
meat itself was tender and moist. Its
texture was between that of crabmeat and fish.
It was smothered with this spicy and robust paste (sambal is it?) that can drive your taste buds
delirious. It comes with calamansi and a
small serving of what looks like pickled
onions but could very well be opium.
That pickled onion was food schizophrenia at its best – spicy, sweet,
and sour, makes you sweat and refreshes you at the same time. I was never as sad as I was that night that
people only have one stomach. Lucky
cows. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My second I-wanna-pull-my-hair-out
experience came from a dish that was a little less bold than the stingray. A dish accepted as the national dish of
Singapore. The humble yet sublime, the
simple yet complex - chicken rice. More
specifically, chicken rice from Tian-tian, Maxwell food center at
Chinatown. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Several elements make up this dish,
each one needs to be perfect on its own to create that delicious orgy in your
mouth. The chicken itself has to be
juicy and savory despite its pallid color.
Each grain of rice, plump and coated with a gingery-oniony-fatty jus.
The chili sauce has to be spicy enough to make you sweat but not too spicy to
kill the delicate taste of the chicken.
The broth has to be, how do I say it without being overly dramatic,
well, it has to be the very essence of chicken in a liquid form at the perfect
temperature, not one degree hotter or colder.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Until Singapore, I was under the
impression that the ginger sauce that we normally get with our chicken rice
here in the Philippines is a major component of chicken rice. It, apparently, is not. All you really need is a good chili sauce
and you’re good to go. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So there. The two dishes that defined my Singaporean
foodfest. It has to be said though that
I was only there for 4 days. Not
enough. Too short actually. Cramming the wide buffet of Singaporean food in 4 short days is
impossible. It also didn’t help that in
those four short days, I just had to do repeats of my favorites - chicken rice
twice, stingray three times. Plus I even
wasted a meal with a stupid chicken burger at Universal. There were several places that I wasn’t able
to go to despite rave reviews like Chomp-chomp hawker center, chin-chin
restaurant, little India, and Katong
Laksa. I will get you next time I
promise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Singapore is a small place they say,
and it is. There’s not a lot to do in
Singapore they say, and there isn’t.
Four days is enough they say, but its NOT. For people who are there to eat and pig out,
four days in Singapore is NOT enough. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-34221810953269250062014-02-22T22:28:00.003+08:002014-02-22T22:28:42.724+08:00Dear papa,<br />
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I can’t believe it’s been 6 years. Sometimes it feels longer, most times it
feels shorter, but 6 years just doesn’t seem right. I don’t think any number will actually ever
feel right. Like its hard to accept how
one number can possibly measure all that was lost. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Heniway.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So you have an apo now.
I’m watching her sleep as I type this and I can’t help but feel sad that
she will never know what its like to have a lolo. Drach lost his dad early too so nothing from
that side either. The lolas are amazing
to be sure –mama is absolutely phenomenal - but lolos are great for little
girls to have. And I imagine you would
have made a phenomenal one too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I made a promise to myself the day I found out I was
pregnant. I said that I was going to
make sure that my child would know who her grandfather was. So I’ve made a mental note of all the stories
that I want to share with her so she will know how funny, silly, honourable and,
well, deaf you were. Hahaha. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, I love you and I miss you terribly. And I hope
that you are proud of the kind of parent I am turning out to be. </div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-16084329231204380852013-12-31T20:54:00.003+08:002013-12-31T20:54:32.862+08:00WFTY: HEALTHI want to put this out there before the year ends just so it's clear. This, above anything, is what I want for 2014. For myself, for my daughter, my husband, my mother, my siblings, and my friends.<br />
<br />
And unlike my other WFTYs where I just pretty much closed my eyes and hoped for the universe to conspire to make it happen, I will be an active advocate this year. <br />
<br />
Woooohoooo, we can do this!COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-11741370184684420052013-08-16T11:27:00.003+08:002013-08-16T11:27:47.620+08:00In the name of the mother<br />
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I was talking to my mother on the phone just now when she
casually tells me that she’s worried about my soul. I ask her why and she says because I don’t
hear mass anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I laugh it off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My soul is fine. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have never felt better about my soul. I have made a promise I intend to keep and I
am at peace with that. God and I, we have a thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But now that I’m a mom, I completely understand her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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She was raised to believe that her performance as a mom will
depend on my performance as a catholic so she worries when I, or any of her
other children, stray from the catholic path.
I remember her telling us when we were children that she’s not breaking
her back to take care of us in this life only to be separated from us when we
die. “Let’s all be together in heaven,” she
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sure. I’m all for
heaven.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, what shall I base
my performance as a mom on? </div>
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Well, I just
want two things for sage - to be happy and to please please be kind, possibly the two hardest things in the world to be sometimes. Of course I will love her anyway if she turns
out to be miserable and cruel, but I don’t think I will be able to hide my
heartbreak. </div>
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I actually miss going to mass. It's very much like yoga to me. Time to reflect about things. I don't think God will keep me away from heaven if I miss mass. I believe being a bad person is the only thing that can do that. But maybe I'll start going to mass again. I haven't been in a while only because, well, walang time sa world! </div>
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So I shall make a real effort now to go for my mom because my going is more important to her than my not going is to me. And I love her. And I don't want her to worry anymore. <o:p></o:p></div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-28714237800234801002013-07-12T11:22:00.001+08:002013-07-12T18:25:21.138+08:00Tatlong kwento. Isang OUCH.<br />
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Drach told me this morning that when he was growing up,
he thought of himself as a real deal music man.
He could carry a tune, he could play an instrument and his head pretty
much holds a fairly extensive music library. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Then he joined Hit where he met the likes of Mike
Villegas who is a guitar god and Arnold Buena who had an impeccable aptitude
for arranging music and others who, like him, knew music but knew it better.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He was put in his place daw.<o:p></o:p></div>
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***<o:p></o:p></div>
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In 2007, I read an article on Rogue written by Chef David Pardo
de Ayala. He talked about how he always
thought of himself as a good chef and that he was happy with where his career was
going. Then he had a trip somewhere and
had a chance to eat at this famous restaurant owned by this renowned chef (I don’t remember where, where and who). <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyway, the moment he took his first bite daw, he started
to tear up and he got so emotional as he realized with such clarity because of that one bite that, despite all he had accomplished, he was not and will
probably never be a great chef.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was super hurt for him there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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***<o:p></o:p></div>
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Okay let me just say it – I think I’m pretty. And 2006 was the height of this particular thinking because I wasn’t quite so
behemoth-ish. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I worked out regularly at Golds gym and I really felt
good about myself. I especially liked
how I looked after a workout cos I would be all flushed, pink cheeks and
glowing and all. So after working out
one evening, I was in the middle of the locker room giving myself one last look
in the mirror before heading out. I was
having pa a really great hair day so I was really REALLY falling in love with
myself there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And then a lady stood next to me to check herself out in
the mirror. It was Priscilla Meirelles<o:p></o:p></div>
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Grabe naman ang universe magkapag reality check! eto sya eh!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<img alt="Priscilla Meirelles" src="http://i2.listal.com/image/4839308/600full-priscilla-meirelles.jpg" />
</div>
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<br /></div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-81818518985104351692013-05-20T11:05:00.000+08:002013-05-20T11:05:09.109+08:00A letter for Solana<br />
May 13, 2013<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">To my dearest Solana,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">When you were still a
resident in my belly, I dreamt of the day when I would be able to go around
with you outside me and introduce you to everyone as my creation. I already saw myself pointing to you and
announcing “See that! I made that!” Your father and
I would carefully and thoroughly discuss all the things that we wanted to teach
you and all the ways that we wanted to raise you so that you would become a
person of substance and a woman of grace.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But as I start to get to
know you, I realize more and more that you are not mine to own or mould. Already you are showing signs of a
personality I didn’t think someone who only came into this world 6 months ago
could have. And while I recognize bits
and pieces of myself and your papa in you, you are already mostly you, which is
now the only thing I will ever want you to be.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If I ever forget in the
future, as I most likely will, remind me please, and again and again if
necessary, that you are not mine to own or mould. If you want to experiment on an outfit or a
hairstyle that I think is hideous, if you choose to believe in an ideology that
makes no sense to me, if you should ever fall in love with a boy who is way out of your league, or if, God forbid, you start rooting for the Lakers,
look me in the eye and tell me gently please “Mama, I know you love me and you
want only the best for me but I am not yours to own and mould.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I, on the other hand, am
yours anak. Absolutely and forever. How's that for irony?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Your papa and I realized the first time we held you in our arms that nothing in our lives would ever come first again. It is unbelievable how quickly and how willingly we became a cliche. So yes, I
will be THAT kind of mom. The kind of mom who wont sit still until you are home safe and tucked in your bed at night. The kind who will desperately try to fit in
your life even if it means listening to annoyingly loud teenage music. And of course, the kind who will cry the ugly cry
at birthday parties and graduations and probably practically every little thing
that makes her realize that you are growing up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I will be that kind of
mom. That is a fact. Please learn to
deal with it as quickly as possible to avoid any unnecessary drama that you
might be drawn to in your tweens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yesterday was my first
ever mother’s day. You did not know that
of course and you were too into your hands to realize how much that day meant
to me. You were not able to greet me, at
least not in a language I understood.
Nor did you buy me any gifts. But
when I woke up that morning, I found you already awake, quietly observing the
ceiling. When you heard me stir, you
looked at me and gave me the warmest and sincerest smile I’ve ever seen on
anyones face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">That was enough. That will always be enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Love, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Mama</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-62374632649228365342013-04-12T10:16:00.001+08:002013-04-12T10:16:31.664+08:00Last night on SurvivorSurvivor is the greatest reality TV there is. Ever!<br />
<br />
Nuff said.<br />
<br />
I want to end this blog with that nuff said right there but I cannot stop thinking about it. <br />
<br />
Last night's episode was epic. <br />
<br />
Malcolm went to tribal feeling pretty confident that he was safe. So confident in fact that, and this is just my theory, he didn't bother to bring his own immunity idol with him. When he felt during tribal that he was going to get blind-sided, he votes for reynold AND THEN, when reynold, thinking that he was going to get voted out, stood up to play his idol, he (malcolm) convinces (no wait, not even) TELLS reynold to give his idol to him which reynold did!!!<br />
<br />
Ugh. Malcolm is so hot.<br />
<br />
It was just too bad that the people who were actually planning to vote malcolm off were too sissy to go with the plan and voted off michael instead. Which is the biggest sayang because that would have been the greatest play on survivor history.<br />
<br />
I hope Malcolm wins.<br />
<br />
<img src="http://cdn10.realitynation.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/survivor-soap-520x345.png" />
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-91533581289446863362013-03-25T17:24:00.000+08:002013-03-25T17:24:19.968+08:00Song for Solana 1One of the hardest things a parent has to do is keep the little one entertained.<br />
<br />
Lord, do they need A LOT of entertaining!<br />
<br />
So I've written a couple of songs that I sing to her. Here is my morning song for Sage. Inspired by that bodily function that we both do first thing in the morning. It has a fun, boppety bop tune that makes you move your head from side to side.<br />
<br />
<i>Hello Sage</i><br />
<i>It's a brand new day</i><br />
<i>It's a fresh new way </i><br />
<i>to start</i><br />
<br />
<i>Hello Sage</i><br />
<i>Just open your eyes</i><br />
<i>Give mama a smize</i><br />
<i>then fart</i><br />
<br />
<i>This is what we do</i><br />
<i>in the morning just me and you</i><br />
<i>while papa's asleep</i><br />
<i>we both let it rip</i><br />
<i>it's musical art</i><br />
<i>we fart.</i>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-19099433543251860072013-03-22T16:57:00.001+08:002013-03-22T16:57:32.508+08:00Before they had models, Brazil had Brigadeiro <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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One day at band camp… hehe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always wanted to
start a sentence with that line since American Pie so I couldn’t resist since
this is a camp-ish story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except
instead of band camp, it happened in our CISV camp in India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, unlike band camp, it doesn’t involve
any sordid, perverse sexual experiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although it is equally sinful and delicious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Brigadeiro is a yummy yummy chocolate yema-ish candy from
Brazil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mariana, the sexy Brazilian
junion councilor, prepared it for all of us when it Brazil day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At CISV, each country gets to have a “day”
when we learn about the culture, the history, and of course the food there. On
our day, I fed them chicken adobo and taught them tong tong tong tong pakitong
kitong complete with choreography.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I digress.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to chocolate now.</div>
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<br /></div>
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After I tasted Brigadeiro, I knew I had to learn how to make
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I cornered Mariana in the
kitchen soon after and demanded that she teach me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The deliciousness of this candy is only trumped by the simplicity
of how it is made.</div>
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<br /></div>
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3 simple ingredients.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3 simple steps.</div>
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4 simple syllables that will make you wish you had an extra
mouth so you can have two spoonfuls at a time.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Say it with me now.</div>
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<i>Brigadeiro.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Again, again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Say it
the way Brazilians do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or better yet,
say it as if a hot Brazilian model were naked in front of you right now.</div>
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<i>BRIGADEEIIIRRRROOOOOO.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sarap.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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1 can condensed milk</div>
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3 tbsps butter</div>
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3 tbsps unsweetened cocoa powder (dutch-processed please) </div>
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<br /></div>
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Mix all ingredients together in a saucepan, put over low
heat and bring to a simmer while constinuously stirring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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When the mixture has thickened, remove from heat.</div>
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Transfer to another container to cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then chill in the fridge.</div>
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You can form it into balls after or you can eat it like ice
cream like I do.</div>
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Enjoy =)</div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-10412508625041820362013-03-22T16:22:00.002+08:002013-03-22T16:22:38.892+08:00Sure I can live without salt. I can also live without love. But I won’t. * <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Salt has gotten a lot of bad PR over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes you bloat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It increases your chances of getting
hypertension.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is harmful to your
kidneys, your bladder, your heart, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>etc. etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doctors warn us now to
kick it like a bad habit, like smoking, or alcohol, or drugs. Imagine
that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>someday salt will only be
available in dark, dingy alleys peddled by smelly men who only have three teeth
left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our children will rebel under the
mantra of SEX, SALT AND ROCK AND ROLL! and we will tell them about the good old
days when salt was abundant and life tasted good.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And yet, despite the rap, God bless our stubborn hearts, we
continue to use it liberally on anything and everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A great testimony to the tenacity and
gluttony of the human race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">To say that salt makes food salty is obvious and, honestly,
insulting both to salt and to the person who says it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because how could you, you who absent-mindedly toss a handful of
it to season your simmering pot of kaldereta, you who profusely sweat over a
pot full of nilaga consciously checking if it needs another pinch of it, how
could you just use the most obvious word to describe salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean really, adding another consonant,
that’s the best you can do!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">As simple as salt is, it does so much more than make food
salty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is responsible for bringing
out the complexities of every flavor palette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s why we use it for baking and for cocktails even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It elevates the inherent flavor of food to a
higher level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It maximizes the
potential of food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It encourages them
to be the best that they can be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
like Oprah… but whiter and less preachy.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, because of culinary geniuses who have come before us,
our choices have expanded immensely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What used to be </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>"rock or refined salt?” </i>is now <i>“Iodized?
kosher? Sea salt?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flavored sea salt? Or
the God of all salts, Fleur de sel?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Save for Fleur de sel, I have tried cooking with all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like sea salt because it tastes a little
more organic than your basic iodized salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know if its psychological but it does bring in the flavor of the
ocean a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a big fan of
flavored sea salt because sometimes I don’t need to add that hint of oregano
and thyme that come with the salt to my dish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I appreciate, however, that it comes in grinders like peppercorns but I
really can live without it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little
I have had of kosher has made me a fan. Its not too salty, just right. Unfortunately, I have not had enough of
it to sing it praises just yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Salt, of course, like other seasonings, is a
matter of taste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much or how little
you want it in a dish is absolutely a matter of preference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bottomline is though, you need salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, just as much as you need love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i>*this was my first entry for <b>SINGLE HUNGRY FEMALES, </b>a blog I started with Deesj three years ago (and dapat gigi and jenni but they never wrote anything). We gave up the URL and if you search for it now, you will be directed to a porn site which works as well.</i> </span></span>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-48608709216998586572013-03-22T16:01:00.001+08:002013-03-22T16:01:58.046+08:00SMASHI've always wanted to be a writer. Some time ago, I forget when, I specifically wanted to write a musicale.<br />
<br />
I am currently cleaning my office computer cos we're finally getting new ones (wooooohoooooo) and I found this "lyrics" saved in one of my folders. Feeling ko talaga pwede!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So this is how it ends</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">With me on the floor </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">At quarter to 4 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">With a phone in my hand</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And my heart broken into 6 million pieces</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And this is how it ends</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">From half the world away</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In a smug, ice cold way</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">You said this stopped working</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Cos we suddenly just stopped making sense</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And you said it was just as hard for you</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And you said that you were breaking as well</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And you said that tonight was a night you’ve been dreading</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">But you knew it was coming</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Since the day that you and I fell</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In love</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We always knew that it was not gonna be easy</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It was complicated right from the start</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So forgive me for being all angry and bitter</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">As I helplessly watch my world fall apart</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It must be real nice to be able to walk away unscathed </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">From the one you called the love of your life </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It must be real nice to be able to move on</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Without a scar, with barely a scratch</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">With nothing but memories that will soon fade away anyway</span></div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-41218822440703227152013-03-21T16:15:00.001+08:002013-03-21T16:15:15.895+08:00WOTY: KINDNESSThis blog is 4 months overdue, the word is not. I knew what my word would be a few months before giving birth. <br />
<br />
For me, sure. But for my daughter most of all. And I will ask the universe to send some your way too. Because who doesn't need a little more kindness in their lives? <br />
<br />COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-16412511433482343922013-02-21T11:56:00.001+08:002013-03-21T15:44:39.971+08:00I live in the hood. Motherhood.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was younger, I dreamt of moving to a foreign place
where everyday is an adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where I
would have to stress every syllable of every word to be understood and where I
need to rely on hand gestures and facial expressions to understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where night is day and day is night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And where every experience is brand new even
if you’ve done it a million other times before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, here I finally am.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is motherhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve only just moved here three months ago but let me tell you a few
things about living in the hood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here in the hood,
there is only one boss.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn’t me and
it certainly isn’t my hunky, macho man of a husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh no no no, we are but mere servants who run around like headless
chicken at our boss’ slightest whimper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
“O why anak? Are you hungry?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, take mama’s boo… Ah okay, you’re not hungry pala noh. Okay
okay sige stop crying na.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahhhh naku
maybe you’re wet. Let’s see nga.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>O,
you’re not naman eh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eh why are you
crying baby?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sige na tell mama and
papa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want to make poopoo?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>O here, hold mamas hand tightly so mama can
help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No pa rin?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahhh<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know na! You must be bored!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oo
nga naman, you’re just sitting there kasi noh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>O sige, lets go out baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lets
look at the outside world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See anak o,
look at all the colors. It's so pretty noh. Ah naku you dont like the outside world pala. Yeah it sucks here noh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eh baka naman you’re really hungry na?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lets try again ha, here, take mama’s boo...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay okay okay, you’re not talaga hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe you na.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe you want to sleep na noh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Twinkle twinkle little star….”</div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And this ‘conversation’ with our boss has been on loop for
three months.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here in the hood,
there is only one star.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b> </span>My husband and
I, we who pay the bills and cook the food and go about our lives outside the
hood acting as if we’re free people, we are nothing but fawning fans to the superstar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watch her and I wait, with bated breath, for her to see me
and smile at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when I am finally
bestowed with such an honor, I think of every good deed I’ve ever done in my
life and I wonder which of those earned me this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>3. Here in the hood, there is nothing but love.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please refer to Monster’s blog for deets because she wrote it
ever so beautifully.<br />
<br />
Read it here. <a href="http://pinoymonster.wordpress.com/2012/12/17/who-are-you-and-why-do-i-love-you/">http://pinoymonster.wordpress.com/2012/12/17/who-are-you-and-why-do-i-love-you/</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>4. Here in the hood, there is nothing but gratitude.</b> Someday,
someone will have to sit me down and explain to me why I was chosen to live
here when others, far far better suited than I am, are still waiting to be let
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every minute of every day, I am
grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat Uniberso.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat sa poong may kapal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat sa matres ko na kahit may myoma ay nakapag aruga pa
rin ng supling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat sa mga doctor na nagtanggal ng pulupot na cord sa
leeg ng anak ko at nagtahi ng punit sa bituka ko.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat sa mga kamaganak at kaibigan na laging nangangamusta
at paminsan minsan ay bumibisita, miski pa ang nadaratnan lamang nila ay isang
nagpapasusong ina o nagngagangawang sanggol.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat sa nanay ko, na sa pagiging ehemplo, ay nagturo sa
akin kung pano magmahal ang isang mabuting ina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At sa mga kapatid ko na syang mga una kong kalaro at kaibigan,
para sa pagmamahal nila sa anak ko ng sobrang sobra at pagkuha ng isang
damungkal na litrato.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat sa asawa ko, my fellow servant and fellow fan (maybe
even a bigger fan than I am), for waking up at the slightest kalabit in the
middle of the night to see how he can be of help, for expertly and
ever-so-lovingly changing diapers, and for blueberry hill morning dances with the little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Higit sa lahat, salamat Solana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Salamat Sage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Salamat anak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For being
patient with mama when she cant seem to understand you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promise you though, that even when you are
able to talk in complete sentences using big words and espousing complex ideas,
there will always be times when I still wont understand you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Such is the way of mothers and daughters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">There will be times when you will feel that
I am THE WORST, that I am against you and that I just don’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I swear to you that all those times I thought that about your abuela, I
was always wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">As you will always be wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Because, no matter how damning you feel your evidence is against me, I will always be on your side, I
will always care, and I am always, in every possible way, THE BEST. </span>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-84046549825738874882012-10-23T16:02:00.003+08:002012-10-23T16:02:48.346+08:00TESBUN<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been so long since I slept through the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I make up for it at work where one can
find me passed out in the conference room between 10 to 11 in the morning
and/or 3 to 4 in the afternoon with a thread of spit leaking out my
mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My ankles have disappeared completely and there are certain
parts of me I have not seen for some time now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To make up for that, my belly has expanded to the size of a marching
band, arriving a destination 5 minutes before I do as if to clear the area to
make room for the rest of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing fits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not my
clothes, not my shoes, and certainly not my once cute little bulbous nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It, too, has outgrown my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the heat that emanates from each and every molecule of
my being, OH EM GEE THE FUCKING HEAT, has turned my body into a pyromaniac’s
wet dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Light a match within three
feet of me and I will blow up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am irritable and exhausted most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to be honest, I probably want to punch
you every time I see you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.
You.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whoever you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t get me wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wouldn’t trade places with the most comfortable person in the
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is nothing I will
undo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing I will do
differently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm only whining because, well, just like
Chris Lao, I was sooooo not informed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-30383911426433080222012-10-17T15:35:00.000+08:002012-10-17T15:35:00.370+08:00With all due respect to Ebe<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It stands, sure. Cuida is one of the greatest love songs ever
written. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
How could it not be?
To take all the sadness and envy and anger there is in the world just to
make sure it never touches me. To give
me, in fact, the whole world, if you could, just to show how much you love me.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
How can one not wish, when listening to this song, that
it was written, or at least at some point, that it is sung for you.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But on my way to work this morning, the song played and
when I closed my eyes to listen to it, I realized how, uhm, empty the song is. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What married life has made me realize is that love does
not, CANNOT, function on hypotheticals. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Kung akin lang ang mundo... </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
kung pagaari ko lang ang lumbay...</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
kung hawak ko
ang panahon... </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
all so very romantic and promising but even the grandest of the
these gestures are empty if it will never be put into actual use.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When I am sick, make sure I drink my medicine on time,
take my temperature, drive me to the doctor.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When I am drunk, give me water, let me puke if I need to,
change me out of my sweat and vomit drenched shirt and please give me coffee
the day after.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And until the day comes when you can actually own lumbay
and keep it away from me, when I am sad, just hold me and tell me that things
are going to be okay even if you don’t know how it will and even if you don’t
know that it will</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Love, just like the devil, is in the details after
all. It’s in the small gestures that may
seem to go unnoticed but actually can mean the world to the other.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Like letting her sleep that extra five minutes even if
you are in a hurry to get to work.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Like settling for the chicken breast because you know she
prefers the leg and thigh.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Like volunteering to wash your pregnant wife’s feet
because she just cannot bend that far down anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Like not kissing her when you’re sick because you don’t
want her to get sick too.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This is what love means to me now. These seemingly insignificant acts that make
me feel very significant. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But sure, sure, if, someday, you will ever find yourself
in possession of the world and if you still want to give it to me then, I will
take it with open arms.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-PH; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’m just not sure where to keep it though. Hindi kasya sa bahay. </span>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-1046726509309106272012-10-10T11:47:00.001+08:002012-10-10T11:47:21.406+08:00Dear Comfort,huuuuyyyyyyyy kamusta ka na day??? ang tagal tagal na nating hindi nagsasama. Grabe naman, ang bilis mong makalimot. Pasyalan mo naman ako paminsan minsan. Lagi ka nalang sa asawa ko nakadikit eh, halos buong gabi mo kasama. Ano ba naman ang 10 minutes na ako naman ang samahan mo. <br />
<br />
Ano, mamayang gabi, pwede ka? Mga 11-ish? <br />
<br />
xoxo,<br />
ets<br />
<br />COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-16491893711071740572012-10-05T13:44:00.002+08:002012-10-05T13:44:38.312+08:00We are Medinas. And this is how we roll.<div class="mtl fbDocument">
My father was an only child. My mother,
on the other hand, comes from a huge family that could easily form a
small state. Our family gatherings are never small and intimate. Add
to our number the fact that we do not ever do anything quietly and maybe you can imagine the chaos of a Medina party. We eat,
laugh, sing, talk and fight loudly and, often times, exaggeratedly. We
are of the hot-blooded, fierce, and highly emotional Spanish descent
after all, with a generous share of Arabic blood mixed in which, I
imagine, does not help temper our personalities one bit.<br />
<br />
But my personal favorite thing about being a Medina is how we come
together in heartbreaking situations. Death, illness, emergencies,
these are the times when everyone puts all else aside to share the pain
of someone else’s heartbreak. The most recent incident only happened
last Sunday. <br />
<br />
But maybe I should start from the start.<br />
<br />
We have three “professional” singers in the family.<br />
<br />
My brother Bobby was first to make a living from singing when he
became the vocalist of Mexicali Blues Band. He later had other bands
but Flying Rats Ass was, I think, the one that’s truly his. He plays
mostly blues and classic American rock with a little bit of Prince
thrown in. <br />
<br />
My cousin Iñigo also became the vocalist of his own band GRIM and
then later Addicted to Venus. I never had the chance to watch his gigs
but if I were to guess from the songs he sings at family parties, I
think they were a rock-metal-grunge kind of band.<br />
<br />
And then there’s Iñigo’s brother, Jeric. Jeric sang, I think, the
most accessible songs. The ones you could enjoy listening to without
thinking “hmmmm… parang my hair is getting longer and dirtier and parang
im growing a tattoo while I’m listening to this music.” Jeric sang
songs you can just chillax to. Pop and RnB, that was his thing. Oh,
and love of course. He sang love songs that could melt your heart.<br />
<br />
So it’s not a surprise that we would always ask Jeric to sing at parties. Or at wakes and funerals for that matter :)<br />
<br />
When he told the family that he was auditioning for X Factor
Philippines, we knew instantly he would make it. He has the looks and
the talent and the passion for singing. More importantly, he had that
indefinable X that the show was looking for.<br />
<br />
We were behind him 168%.<br />
<br />
When he made it to the top 20. Showbiz-nezz became the family
business. Get-togethers became strategy meetings. His performances on
Saturdays would be the family’s official soundtrack for the week. We
had all become disciples and our mission was to spread the gospel of
Jeric.<br />
<br />
Everybody pulled in. Whether it was through votes, skills or prayer
that one could contribute, everyone pulled in. The family was one and
solid over one thing: to help Jeric win. Not because we wanted him to
be famous or to win the money, but because we knew that singing is the
only thing he ever wanted to do in this world. It was his dream.<br />
<br />
Sundays became the most nerve-wracking night of the week. The brave
ones would go to Pagcor to watch the results live and the not so brave
ones, like myself, would watch it at home. From the time KC announces
that the voting lines are closed to the time she says that Jeric is safe
for the week is really the most agonizing time for us all. I can’t
tell you how many contractions I go through during this short period of
time.<br />
<br />
Last Sunday, that agony was expanded a hundred times over. Jeric was
in the bottom two. 2 judges voted for Jeric to stay and 2 voted for
him to go home. Jeric received the lowest number of votes for the
week. It was one blow after another and my heart felt like it was on
pause the entire time.<br />
<br />
If it was that heart breaking for me, I couldn’t even begin to
imagine how it must have felt for Jeric. All I wanted to do was rush to
Pagcor and be with him. My husband, God bless his sweet and now medina
heart too, immediately agreed to go.<br />
<br />
When we got there, it felt like we were attending a wake. Eyes were
red from crying, shoulders were slumped from disappointment, voices were
cracking from pain. It was fitting too that we were at a casino
because we all felt cheated that night, like we didn’t stand a chance
because the odds were stacked against us and determined to bring us
down. The odds had a name of course. And badly bleached hair.<br />
<br />
Anyways…<br />
<br />
After a few minutes, several other Medinas started to arrive to join
the others who were already there. We were all there for one reason and one
reason only, to make sure that Jeric wouldn’t feel alone.<br />
<br />
This is how it is in this family. The mission that we seemed to have
taken on just by simply being born into this family is to never make
anyone feel alone in hard times, that the person whose heart is breaking
should never feel that his heart is the only one breaking. I remember
how devastated my family was when my papa died. We were zombies for
days. And the only reason we survived that time was because the
Medinas, our Medinas, made sure that we did.<br />
<br />
When new people come into our lives, they are easily intimated by the
closeness of the family. We are clannish. Sure. But only because
we’ve been through too many things together. The happy times that
brought us closer and the fights that made our bonds stronger. We may
not always like each other 24/7 but we love one another every single
minute of every single hour of every single day.<br />
<br />
We are Medinas. And our blood is particular thicker than the regular
blood that is already thicker than water. And should you ever
penetrate us, a task that is easier said than done mind you, you can
count on us to treat you like one of our very own and we will always
have your back. </div>
<div class="mtl fbDocument">
<br /></div>
<div class="mtl fbDocument">
As for Jeric, that boy will be singing on a bigger stage to a larger audience soon. I'm not worried one bit. </div>
COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-61430287392296724912012-08-13T09:44:00.001+08:002012-08-13T09:44:29.639+08:00hey sunshine!so, are you gonna be like a mini mama like this?<div>
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4zplJ5VgpO4sVBbNeku-SYaimc_PJp86rpATeQpeO49WS5KRGZodEg1v6zeLn1fqnWr8M-GM-4OHvEEoaX7-2Ux-7fRT7ZHJVsBmGnSdACuPMx-Rt4Ed1A3RaNkEeTS4XKyldg/s1600/etschild.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4zplJ5VgpO4sVBbNeku-SYaimc_PJp86rpATeQpeO49WS5KRGZodEg1v6zeLn1fqnWr8M-GM-4OHvEEoaX7-2Ux-7fRT7ZHJVsBmGnSdACuPMx-Rt4Ed1A3RaNkEeTS4XKyldg/s320/etschild.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
ORRRR are you gonna be like a girl version of papa?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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JUSKO I CANNOT WAIT TO MEET YOU INDAY!!!!</div>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-66925675938016724032012-07-25T19:02:00.001+08:002012-07-26T18:11:42.277+08:00Babay Sir<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kNylOplmGQCISIrVYl00KMviiNtsJv-Fd-jIkPeiwCQw9NOFTZEpgDTawZMaB3vDxOeOdYSb-vjABJjzFFUBn2Zar6nitmWxiGFpquMLgHNsmy3sydpyEQMda03mVrFCqmN7cg/s1600/larry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kNylOplmGQCISIrVYl00KMviiNtsJv-Fd-jIkPeiwCQw9NOFTZEpgDTawZMaB3vDxOeOdYSb-vjABJjzFFUBn2Zar6nitmWxiGFpquMLgHNsmy3sydpyEQMda03mVrFCqmN7cg/s320/larry.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Larry died on an early Thursday morning at his home with his
wife and brother by his side. It was
not a peaceful passing, I was later told.
But it was quick. And for that,
the two of them are very grateful. It was
the 12<sup>th</sup> of July. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To say that I love the man is a gross understatement. LOOOOOOVE! - all caps with multiple Os and
an exclamation point - would probably suffice, but I wouldn’t even bet a shirt
I barely wear anymore on that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was my boss, my mentor, my ninong, my friend. And he’s gone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he first told me that he was diagnosed with pancreatic
cancer in July of last year, I didn’t know how to act or what to
say. I was not a stranger to the powers
of the pancreas and the havoc it could bring by its malfunction. I had already lost a friend to the same disease in may of 2011
after being diagnosed less than 6 months before. But my first education in pancreatic cancer
came from Larry himself around three years ago. We were talking about death and
how we would prefer to go if given a choice. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Kahit ano, wag lang pancreatic cancer. </i>He said. <i>Ang sakit at ang bilis non.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pancreatic cancer only manifests itself on its late stages
and, oftentimes, only because it had already spread to its neighboring
organs. It kills quickly and torturously. And, according to statistics, it kills for
sure.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But when someone you love is afflicted with an illness, you
throw everything you know out the window.
Statistics become as irrelevant as the possibility of heartbreak to a
person madly and deeply in love. You
lock every bit of knowledge you have about the illness away in a part of your
brain you can easily ignore. And you
keep it there despite what you see and what you hear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So like a stereotypical dumb blond cheerleader, I would give him
a wide grin and wave my imaginary pompoms in the air and say <i>Kaya mo yan
sir. You can beat this. Let’s do this!!! </i>every chance I would get.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God he must have wanted to punch me everytime I did
that. He would smile instead
though. He would smile and say <i>yeah,
oo. I think I still have five more
years. </i>I ignore that the next
time he would give me that same smile with a similar answer, he would lessen
the number attached to it. Five became
three, three became two, and then finally, his <i>yeah, oo </i>answer was not
followed with a number anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You noticed that.
You ignored it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last time he reported for work was a Thursday. He just came to sign the payroll but I was
very happy to see him just the same. It
was the first time I saw him after the Corona verdict came out and he was the
person I was most excited to talk to about it.
Larry loved politics as much as I do and since he knew infinitely more
about it than me, I loved talking to him about it. From the time I met him in 2000, I can’t even count with my body
hair how many times I invaded his office with a question. It didn’t matter if it was local or
international, current or old news, larry always knew something about whatever
it was I wanted to talk about. He was
also always willing to share what he knew.
And what he had. He was generous
in all ways possible.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That afternoon, I quickly followed him inside his
office. I pulled a chair and sat down
directly in front of him. We talked
about the Corona trial briefly. He
tried to look excited about it, but I could tell that he was tired. I asked him how he was, he said his
shoulders, abdomen and back hurt. He
was smiling a little when he said it.
So I turned on my cheerleader again, pounded on his desk and cheerily
said <i>Sir, kaya nyo yan. Don’t give
up. Let’s beat this! </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nakakainis diba?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He smiled, as usual, but you can tell his smile was a little
defeated. I waited for the <i>yeah,
oo. </i>It never came. And then for the first time since I heard
the news, I started entertaining the possibility that he might not win this and
all my cheerleader rah – rahs were drowned out by one question – was he ready?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first friend I lost to pancreatic cancer was certainly
sure he was. When I visited him a month
before he died, he looked at peace. He
just kept saying he was ready, that he had already said goodbye to the people
that mattered to him and that he was just trying to cross off as many items in
his bucket list as he could. He had
already made his peace with God, he said.
He was ready to go. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know if Larry ever reached that point. I was too busy telling him to fight this
thing I never once talked to him about what he thought might happen if he would lose. And now I wonder if my responsibility as a
friend to stay positive for him should have ended to allow the greater
responsibility of preparing him for death to begin. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not a religious person and I will not presume to know
what happens after we die but I know from losing enough people in my life that
the possibility of ones mortality makes us cling tighter to whatever God we believe in and prepares us
to accept death as graciously as humanly possible. I hope larry was at peace with death in the end. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last time I ever saw Larry alive was a Thursday too, a
week after I saw him at the office. He
was confined in Makati Medical and he specifically told us he didn’t want visitors. I was there for a visit with my OB anyway
and I thought it was a perfect excuse to drop by. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He looked older, weaker and smaller but he was wearing the
goofiest morphine-induced grin too.
Again, it was a situation I was not prepared for. It was awkward, almost wrong, to see him
that way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still I managed to say to him, <i>Sir buti naman bumalik na
ang kulay mo. You look better than the
last time I saw you. </i>When I said
that that time though, I knew I was lying. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are people who had the opportunity to be closer to
Larry but never took it. I’m glad I’m
not one of them. I’m glad I never stopped myself EVER from barging into his
office anytime I wanted to talk. I’m glad
that I came back after resigning two times to work again for a man who happily
took me back in like a devoted father would a prodigal daughter. And I am glad that when he first hesitated
to accept my request to be our ninong at our wedding because he was afraid that
he wouldn’t last long enough to attend it, I just shushed him and insisted that
he just had to be my ninong. See, it
was my only opportunity to officially make him my family, and I wasn’t about to
pass that up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salamat sir sa lahat ng naging posible sa buhay ko dahil sa
inyo. Salamat sa lahat ng naituro ninyo
sa akin. Salamat sa lahat ng ibinigay
ninyo sa akin. Kahit minsan hindi kayo
nagdamot ng kahit ano sa kahit kanino.
Totoo siguro ang sinasabi nila, maagang kinukuha ang mga mababait. It was my honor and my pleasure to take
orders from you, to argue with you, and to laugh with you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wrote a blog entry about you in 2004. I will repost it now because i want to end this happy. http://compulsiveeating.blogspot.com/search?q=the+third+stooge</div>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-90186151386477123462012-07-06T16:06:00.000+08:002012-07-06T16:17:45.894+08:00Para sa iyo<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Hindi
mo ako kilala at kung sakali mang magkakilala tayo balang araw ay malamang
hindi rin tayo magiging magkaibigan.
Ngunit netong mga huling linggo ay naging tagamasid ako sa buhay mo, sa
hinagpis at daing mo. Kahit hindi man
makarating sa yo ang sulat kong ito ay gusto ko lang ibahagi eto sa uniberso sa
baka sakaling ika’s kanyang mabulungan ng konti sa aking dasal para sa iyo.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Bagamat
hindi ako mayaman sa experiensya sa buhay na pwede ko sanang paghugutan ng
payo, hayaan mong ikwento ko nalang ang nangyari sa isang napaka importanteng
babae sa buhay ko.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Tulad
mo, naging mabuti syang asawa at ina sa kanilang walong anak . Buong bente kwatro oras sa araw-araw nya ay
dinedika nya sa kanyang pamilya. Lubos
na nagmahal, labis na nagsilbi, at higit sa lahat, walang inasahang kapalit
kahit isang halik man o kusing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Isang
araw ay nalaman nya na may ibang babae na pala ang kanyang asawa at hindi
nagtagal, ay iniwan nya eto kasama ng kanyang mga anak. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Alam
kong hindi naging madali ang desisyon na yon para sa kanya ngunit ginawa nya
yon ng walang hesitasyon. Ang sabi nya
ay miski mahal na mahal nya ang asawa nya at kahit gaano kaimportante sa kanya
na sana’y manatiling buo ang kanyang pamilya, ay hindi nya hahayaang maliitin
at bastusin ng isang tao ang buong puso at buong kaluluwa nyang ibinuo. Miski
pa kung ang taong eto ay ang pinakamamahal nya sa buong mundo. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Mahirap
gawin ang ginawa nya at, malamang, kung mahanap ko man ang sarili ko sa
sitwasyon na yon ay hindi ko rin matutularan.
Pano nya tinalikuran ang buhay na kinagisnan nya ng ganon ganon na
lamang? Bakit hindi niya ipinaglaban
ang dapat ay kanya? Siguro kung tatanungin ko sya, eto ang isasagot nya sa akin
“hija, sanay akong makipaglaban. Hindi
rin ako takot matalo. Pero hindi ko
kayang tanggapin na kailangan ko pang ipaglaban ang dapat ay akin na. Na kailangan ko pang magmakaawa para
maibigay sa akin ang dapat ay akin talaga.
Mahal ko ang asawa ko, pero mahal ko rin ang sarili ko.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Yan
ang lola ko. Isang maganda at napaka
lakas na babae na namuhay mang mag-isa sa kanyang pagtanda, ay namatay na
masaya, puno ng pagmamahal at BUO.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Hindi
ko alam kung paano masusukat ang kabuuan ng isang tao. Pero hindi ba dapat na
miski man puno tayo ng lamat ay dapat manatili tayong buo. Dahil kung hindi tayo buo, paano natin
rerespetohin ang ating sarili. At kung
wala na tayong respeto sa ating sarili, ano pa ang gagawin natin sa kung anuman
ang natira?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">At
yan nga ang dasal ko para sa yo, na sa hirap at hapdi ng dinadaanan mo ngayon,
ay lakasan mo ang loob mo na manatiling buo.
Huwag mo gawing batayan ang kahihiyan mo sa iba, wala sa kanila ang
sagot sa problema mo. Wala sa asawa
mo. At wala ring sa isang pirasong
papel. Nasa mukha na humaharap sa yo sa
salamin. Nasa puso na ipinaglalaban ka
sa loob ng pagod na pagod mo nang katawan.
Nasa sa iyo, friend. Nasa iyo.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Sana
ay manatili kang buo.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Mula
sa akin. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-86702315271694066792012-05-30T17:30:00.000+08:002012-05-31T09:46:05.014+08:00Dear Ets,Well well well, look do we have here. A bun in the oven. A baby in the belly. A fetus in the innards. And so soon after the wedding that came so soon after the proposal that came so soon after the relationship. My, my, aren’t we living life on fast forward these days?<br />
<br />
First things first, I believe congratulations are in order. You are fertile after all. Good job. Felicitations, too, for easily making drach a willing accomplice to this. Let’s face it, that was the bigger, sweeter feat. Very well done.<br />
<br />
Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk shall we?<br />
<br />
Ets, I’ve known you for 37 years. You are still the lazy, happy-go-lucky, under achiever you were in grade 5. This casual attitude you’ve taken that has, admittedly, protected you from some of life’s humbling blows has got to change somehow. You give up easily and you fail quite yieldingly. You could have been such a big loser but, fortunately, you’re able to bounce back as easily. But now, you have to start taking yourself more seriously.<br />
<br />
You know how when people ask you why you never seem stressed and you tell them in a firm and resolute voice that seem to carry with it the wisdom of Solomon that “you know what, I don’t save lives. If I bungle a direction from client, no one dies.”<br />
<br />
Well, guess what child, this thing that you are about to do is the greatest life-saving project you will ever be a part of.<br />
<br />
DO NOT FUCK THIS UP.<br />
<br />
You have been entrusted with the care of a human life. I’m sorry ets, and I’m sorry to all the feministas that might stumble upon this blog, but nothing you will ever do will ever be as important as this. Please take this seriously. Never mind that your only qualification is wanting this too much for too long. Find a way to make this work.<br />
<br />
So I’ve taken everything I know about you and made you a list of how you could make this work. Refer to it please whenever you can.
<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>1. Do not pass on your fears to your child </b><br />
Its bad enough that you could be passing on your hips to your child but please do not pass on your fears. Let him explore, let him climb, let him fly. It is not your place to hold him back. Just make sure you're there if he falls and hurts himself.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Communicate </b><br />
I know you always want to keep things light and breezy. So you ask about the fun and funny things and tend to ignore what lies deeper. Find a balance please. Ask him about his new crush but also ask him about his insecurities and fears. Yes, even if he’s only three.
<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>3. Be honest </b><br />
You owe this child honesty, so that he may hear it graciously and that he may give it tactfully. If he writes a bad song like anna banana, tell him “anak, medyo masama eto. Wag mo nalang siguro ipost sa youtube. Halika makinig tayo ng eheads. Nagsulat rin sila ng kanta tungkol sa fruit. Actually fruitcake. Pero simple rin lang pero may konting lalim.”
<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>4. Open your mind. </b><br />
You are as much a student in this as he is. This child will grow up in a different world in a different time. Learn it with him. Understand it with him. Do not let him be an alien to you and vice versa.
<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>5. teach your child kindness. </b><br />
While you’ve always believed in the inherent goodness of man, you’ve come to realize that you might be a little wrong. The potential to be good, to be kind, that is what is inherent. Not goodness itself. Some people are born strong, some are born intelligent, but you don’t believe that anyone is born either kind or unkind. Kindness is taught. It is nurtured and encouraged. Teach him to be kind and remember that the best way to do that is to practice it yourself.<br />
<br />
Okay that’s about it. Good luck chum.<br />
<br />
Love,
Ets
<i> </i><br />
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<i>As of this writing, i still don't know the gender of my child so i used him / he. wala lang.</i>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-68135511137662393112012-04-02T17:34:00.008+08:002012-04-02T17:49:10.593+08:00Through the eyes of my twinIf you ask me, I'll tell you without blinking that the best wedding I've ever attended was mine.<br /><br />But, of course, that's just me.<br /><br />I mean sure it wasn't perfect. There was a surprise pink wedding at the park that ruined the walk from the fountain that I saw myself doing since the day we booked the place. Then there was my imeldific hair. So big migeads. But to me, it was perfect. Not my hair, the wedding i mean.<br /><br />So I am sooooo happy when other people tell me that they had fun at the wedding. Especially when its people who really know what fun means.<br /><br />Here's a blog from my twin brother, pats, who captured the wedding beautifully in photos and in words.<br /><br /><a href="http://everydayelcamino.blogspot.com/2012/03/turning-genabe.html"<br />from THE El Camino></a>COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-57309559527231809002012-02-27T16:55:00.006+08:002012-02-27T17:38:36.756+08:00white lace and promises<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7KkafRQ8XBPzGeTtnE-u0toSw1DjUuMk078PMOSyT-Hg5wIGNfAagF6NDLEeWgdOTrwZu_9kRV3UzpXA6-ohPqGgpDmQiunhwou7AXtbzC2eHpXUF5qItQrJUz1kPOYPJSgYjQ/s1600/425039_10151259463760058_764155057_22457426_1780507918_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7KkafRQ8XBPzGeTtnE-u0toSw1DjUuMk078PMOSyT-Hg5wIGNfAagF6NDLEeWgdOTrwZu_9kRV3UzpXA6-ohPqGgpDmQiunhwou7AXtbzC2eHpXUF5qItQrJUz1kPOYPJSgYjQ/s400/425039_10151259463760058_764155057_22457426_1780507918_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713736718510748258" /></a><br /><br />I am married. <br /><br />The next time I have to fill out a form, there will be a check mark on the married box and the single box will remain empty. My mom will finally, after 36 years, be relieved as my in case of emergency person. My husband will be getting that call now. There will be no more 6-month searches for one’s self in an island somewhere. No more sudden resignations just because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed one morning. No more of those hasty decisions I am so used to making. <br /><br />I am no longer just me anymore. <br /><br />Legally, I am attached to this person. This person who is not my blood. This person who did not see me grow up. This person who just came to my life some years ago. Let me say that again because its big - I am legally bound to this person. Isn’t that terrifying? If I should ever choose to unbind myself from this person, there will be legal impediments. There will be court cases and petitions and consequences and maybe even custody battles. Of course the implications are not just legal. There will be judgment and whispers and assumptions that somehow, in some way, I have failed.<br /><br />I should be terrified. I should be shaking in my flats. I should be holding on to my mommy’s hand for dear life.<br /><br />I’m not. <br /><br />In fact, I am unbelievably and ridiculously happy. <br /><br />For the rest of my life, I am bound to this person. This person who makes me happy. This person who makes me laugh. This person who has seen me through so much shit and, despite that, remains determined to spend the rest of his life with me. Its only been two weeks and already I cannot imagine not waking up next to him. <br /><br />And of course it won’t be a walk in the park. I am, after all, ME and he is, after all, NOT. <br /><br />But what’s so nice about walking in the park anyway? If its such a big deal then why arn’t more people out in the park walking. In fact, people walking in the park these days are either emo, jobless or lurking for their next victim. Yeah, I don’t care for that. I want to be where happy people are, DISNEYLAND! Because right now I am on a ride with my seatbelts fastened, my arms up in the air, screaming at the top of my lungs “AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”<br /><br />I am no longer just me anymore :)COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7460780.post-82970336795709489822012-01-01T12:54:00.002+08:002012-01-01T12:56:10.180+08:00WOTY 2012<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wBK9Lss-IobxHJKV1Vf4xjqk3HJ_fJWMYbxuXU1TCinmBdRizr4ARncWuQcno2ZdWNR-Mu3SFlj72nljsntTZdFtA91I8F9JLAIunX6rQGBrPLpPCEIxrRmUqbTXe29mvLWNiA/s1600/shine.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wBK9Lss-IobxHJKV1Vf4xjqk3HJ_fJWMYbxuXU1TCinmBdRizr4ARncWuQcno2ZdWNR-Mu3SFlj72nljsntTZdFtA91I8F9JLAIunX6rQGBrPLpPCEIxrRmUqbTXe29mvLWNiA/s400/shine.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692522680925422114" /></a><br /><br />bet your bottom peso im gonna!COMPULSIVE EATERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14347794272217468461noreply@blogger.com0