#20: Kill the Housewife

If you say a woman is empowered, does it always have to mean that she wakes up everyday 6:00am, squeezes herself into power clothes, struts smugly along Ayala and rubs elbows with the upper crust of the professional world?

Or are they the ones who chose to spend half their significant lives in the adding initials after their names, holding books and papers and theses and markers rather than human beings, shielding themselves from their own insecurities by building a cornucopia of complicated jargon around their lives?
Do they think that women who are forced to stay in their workplaces until 11pm for a production or a deadline, who makes their homes sleeping cabins, who spends more time touching their keyboards than their estranged kids, are the successful ones?
Are they the ones so-called feminists "encourage" to have their backs turned against their emasculated husbands and love-thirsty children so they can tell the world "I chose."?

Chose what?

A feminist professor (along with other academicians) in the film academy I went to totally rejected the thesis concept of my poor little sister. Her film was based on a children's story about a mother who had rough hands because she chose to serve her family by being a housewife. Because of the endless scrubbing and chopping and wiping, she ended up with rough hands. But at the end of the day, when they are all together, her seemingly rough hands are the gentlest as they are extended to embrace and care for her husband and children. The professors argued that this story encourages the discrimination of women. Just because the "housewife" is being glorified. They're so scandalized by the concept they can't even imagine that her work is even a concept that came from a UP (there I said it) student!
"Taga-UP ka pa naman, tapos ganyan yung concept mo, about a housewife?"
Teka, teka, teka. So now, just because a woman choses to serve the family rather than the capitalists that they hate every now and then, a woman is valued less? I know feminism stands for many things but does it include a woman having to reject domestic and familial responsibilities altogether even if it IS their choice? I thought women's rights were about having the freedom to choose between a domestic or career-driven lifestyle, to not be confined to the house if they want to try their wings outside. I never thought that it meant looking down at those women who chose to stay home as they find joy in serving their family. If feminism and women's rights are all about gaining respect because they work, then there's no point giving women a choice. It defeats the very reason they fought for feminis in the first place.
Apparently, these narrow-minded professors missed this important detail in the concept: the woman is happy. To be able to follow your calling and joy should be the essence of feminism, not to harbor as much power and wealth as you can in this materialistic world even if it means you will have to be miserable and alone all your life. Sometimes, I even think that this societal pressure for women to have to be competitive in the professional world is taking women's liberation on the other end of the spectrum: to not have the choice to simply be a wife and a mother.
These guys totally missed the point. Maybe that's why I have film professors that are messed up. Don't they see the value of having a mother care for you and your household everyday? Would they prefer a strange yaya to mold their children's minds? If they honor those women who found their empowerment in climbing up the career ladder, then they should also respect those who chose to have rough hands.

#19: Without and Amidst

I chose to be a stranger in a strange land today.
I gave myself a shove and hurled myself into a world I don't belong to but I know I can fit in. 
I can be a chameleon. I will look just like anybody and be nobody.
I will blend in, unnoticed, while I eavesdop and peep into this little hole in their coffee-drinking lives.
In this estrangement, I will know who I am without everybody, while I'm amidst everybody.
Alone, I'll be charming in my surrendered sadness.


Dec. 3, 2007; 9:40pm

#18: Expensive Flavored Aquarium

So this is how it is
Behind a glass case
Like a waxed paper cup
Pretension covers them all
Loneliness
Confusion
Worthlessness
Keeping this hot coffee
from destroying
the only thing
that holds it
together.

#17: Lonely Happiness in a List

Thanks to my friend Jill, I am inspired to remember things that I need right now. Things that make me happy when I'm alone.


Cheesecake with a cup of latte
Finish a poem
Stare out on a sunny morning with hash browns pancakes and syrup
Read a good book
Find my old toys
Listen to Beatles music in dim light
Cry without reserve
Window (or actually go) shopping and try on (or buy) everything I want to try on (buy)
Watch a good movie
...
uhm.
That's it. I'm too lazy. Or maybe there are really just very few things that can make me happy right now. NOW. Now that I'm alone.

Faceless Love Saga 2: Our First and Last Family Dinner

I can't remember what I was upset about. I know my day sucked because I had an argument with my best friend again. Maybe that's why he thought of trying to turn my day around. He took us out to dinner to a Persian restaurant. It's been a while since we had a dine out that has nothing to do with work or someone's special occasion. It was simply a gesture of affection. What makes it more special is that it was our first date as a family: me, my husband and our baby.

So, we ate flat bread, keema, and kebab while drowning them in the spicy yogurt sauce. It took so long to deliver the food and it took so little time to finish them. We mopped the extra sauce on our plates and sat back sighing.

Wow, it's been a while since my husband dated me. It's been a while since I last ate Persian food. It's been a while since I last felt... full. I was pretty sure that our baby liked it too.

Little did I know that our baby's tiny heart had already stopped beating weeks ago. Little did I know that our first family dinner was the start of our last few hours together.Two nights after, I learned it was our last family dinner with the brave one who gave way. I'm glad we were able to take him out, at least even once.

#26: Formulas

Formulas are the human mind's security blanket. Our finite mind can only find comfort in the embrace of the predictable. While formulas and structure are created by our God for our own good, it is also His desire to see us move beyond and above this. To be excited about God's creativity in weaving the turn of events. To be at peace in His unpredictability. And to be ready to laugh at His humor. I think that is what pleases Him. I think He calls it faith.

Faceless Love Saga 1: The New Meaning of Coffee

I used to love coffee - coffee in it's many forms: brewed from fresh coffee beans, instant with artificial creamer and sugar, 3-in-1 with the same artificial creamer and sugar, espresso mixed with fresh milk, brewed from old coffee beans, blended with whipped cream and all other forms of fat and calories they can think of. You name it, I'll drink it.

Until he came.

One day I woke up and found myself wincing at the latte I was sipping in that coffee shop. The coffee taste became tired in my mouth. Since then, I wouldn't even be tempted to smell what used to be a relaxing aroma for me.

That's because he came. He was very generous to keep me company all the time. Since then, I always had someone to talk to. He eats what I choose to eat, whether it's galunggong from Aling Oweng's or some over-priced curry from Prince of Jaipur. He sacrifices with me. If I have to stay up, he'll just be there, sacrificing some sleep with me. When I'm hurt over a petty fight with my husband, he'll endure all my useless complaints and would just listen. He's my husband's newest friend. He can also talk to him, you know. He walks me to the office, accompanies me while I labor with the pink slips, white slips, the nice clients, the not-so-nice clients. He'll cross the street with me. He will wait patiently until it's time to go home. Inever needed the comfort of a cup of coffee, the whole time.

He's probably the one who listened to me the most for these past three months. But one day, he left me. He vanished. I never realized that I was eating alone again. Going to the office alone again. Walking our streets alone again - just like before. The day after I discovered that he left, as if a switch was turned off, I no longer winced at coffee, nor its smell - just like before.

Now I bleed that I'm holding this cup once again and sipping this brown liquid, because it only means one thing: that he has gone.

#16: Lights Out

I started counting when it happened around twenty times already in 6 months. During the first 5 times it happened, I probably didn't notice.


When it happened ten times, I took it as a coincidence.


After it happened 15 times, it became an X-filish trivia of my life that I told my friends so they will say, "Weird..."


When it happened twenty times already, I was officially freaked out. Then I started counting to formalize my tally of this simple yet mildly disturbing phenomenon.


Lamp posts turn off when I pass by.


I even have friends with me during some of the times it happened. I was in front of the church, walking to the car with our church food provider. The church lamp post went off. Me and my friends were walking in area two in UP some midnight, just loitering, when a road lamp went off.
My husband parked his car to drop off an item to a friend. I stayed in the car to read my book under the light of the lamp post when, rudely, it turned off.


A year after, I got seriously weirded out when it started happening at one lamp post intervals probably January this year. There was a time I was jogging with my husband when three lamp posts went off on me, in the same road, with only one lamp in between them! This kind of frequency happened to me twice already.


Since then, I already have this unusual suspenseful feeling when I'm walking at night. I already half-expect it to happen, yet when it actually does, I get startled. Like this one instance when I was walking with my hubby when a lamp post went out RIGHT WHEN I WAS EXACTLY UNDER IT. @#%&! My heart raced because somehow I can't pass it off anymore as a silly coincidence. When the lamp posts don't turn off, sometimes, they just flicker/quiver when I pass by, as if it's trying to fight. My husband knows this and is a witness to the numerous instances that it happened. At first, he will shake his head in disbelief. But now, I think he's already surrendered to the fact that it happens. During those moments when they just "quiver", my husband would say "Aba, o, lumalaban pa itong ilaw na ito sa'yo, o."


Nevertheless, I am not dispensing any explanation for it, you know, those paranormal, supernatural or brain power crap. I am just about learning to "enjoy" the fact that lamp posts are overwhelmed in my presence. Not "by", but "in" my presence. Those are two different things.
As I know it, these lamp posts automatically detect the presence of light. When the sun is up, it automatically turns off. When the sun starts to rest, they take the liberty to lend their own meager rays.


In my case, I'd like to think that I have legions of angels that God sent to be my bodyguards. They're so radiant that these lamps falter at their unseen light. Those little light detectors attached on top of the lamps simply deem it unnecessary to light my way, So you see, it's not me. Its just that I can be so weak and fragile at times that I need this many angels.
The latest lights-out experience counted 178 in my tally. God is so thoughtful, isn't He?

#15: How Do You Produce 12.5K in 7 Days?

Disclaimer: I'm sorry for the raw and unliterary way I composed this but this story has to be told through numbers. Pardon me as well if I'm gonna spill my financial guts to you but I'm not here to induce pity (though I can't blame you if you do). I just discovered that our resources may not be found in the numbers from our ATM slip. Note how I repeatedly used the word "suddenly". I don't expect you to readily make any sense out of it. Who said miracles are easy to figure out anyway?
Situation Background: September 14 My short film will be aired later and the interview just finished. They said I'm gonna get an honorarium for airing my short film. Asa pa ako kung makuha ko agad yun.
September 15 - Deadline of rent                        4,800
September 21 - Deadline of insurance premium     8,000
Bank account as of Sept 14                              1,000
Great... Umpisahan na ang karera!
Timeline:
Sept 14   my company was suddenly able to pay 50% of allowance it owes us for August. We received                                      4,000
Cash on Hand                                                      800
Bank Acct                                                        1,000
Sept 15 we paid rent (yey!1st lap!)                   -4,800
Cash on Hand                                                      500
Bank Acct                                                          700
Sept 16  status quo
Sept 17 We suddenly received long overdue allowance from worship department                                                                 2,500

Tithes for company allowance                            -400
Tithes for dept allowance                                  -250
                                                                   -650
                                                      2,500 - 650 =     1,850                                       
                                 Cash On Hand                  300
Amount Raised for Insurance Premium                 1,500
Sept 18 status quo but broadcast company suddenly called telling me I can get my 3,000 honorarium tomorrow. Akalain mo!
Sept 19 received honorarium from BC                  3,000
Hubby suddenly gets called for gig!
...and received a fee of                                    2,000
                             -load and other expenses      -500
                                                                                    1,500
                       Amount raised for Insurance           6,000 (2,000 to go!)
Sept 20 We suddenly received our fee for a finished project in the company                                                        2,500
Total Cash the day before the 8,000 deadline       8,500        
Sept 21 Was able to pay our rent and insurance premium in 7 days.
Finish Line! May allowance pa!
And something extra: By the way, a day after, our church friend told us some anonymous being wants to sponsor P500 worth of our groceries. We haven't been telling anyone about this race we're in but I guess the Lord spoke to that gracious being to shoulder our week's food. How unbelievable is that?
So how do you raise 12.5K in 7 days?
I don't know. But it will happen if the Financier knows you need it. Are you really asking the Lord to be more real and closer to you? 
Brace yourself.
You just bought a ticket to the most terrifying yet most thrilling ride of your life. It's soooo good, it feels like flying.

#14: UNA MULA SA HULI

Sige mahalin mo pa ako,
   Sige ibuhos mo ang lahat upang
sa pagtanaw ko sa malayo ay
    magigisnan ko ay ang mundo
at hindi maginaw na kawalan.
    Harangin mo ang anumang
hangin na tutuyo sa balat
    Na nag-uumpisa nang magbitak.
Tingnan mo, ako ay lumalayo
    Upang ihalo ko ang luha ko sa
Buhangin hanggang ang putik
    Ibabalot ko sa kahubaran 
Ng kaluluwang tigang.
    Ngunit, sige mahalin mo ako
Lumuhod ka at lumuha sa
    Ibabaw ng bangkay kong nanigas
Sa bumalot na batong namuo
    Sa ilalim ng init ng araw.
Tingnan mo ako at walang
    Naririnig, nakikita, nararamdaman,
Nalalagusan ng hininga 
    Naipon anhg pawis, hangin
Dugo, sa kulungang ako rin
    ang nagsara.
Sige, mahalin mo ako at
    Dalhin mo ako pataas
Lagpas sa bubong, sa mga tore,
    sa bundok, lagpas pa ng ulap,
inilapit ang langit
    sa aking mga pisngi.
Ngunit sa wakas, nagawa
    kong pagurin ka
Napatigil kitang magmahal.
    Kamao mo'y bumuka,
Mga bisig bumigay
    Bumulusok ang katawan kong  
Di pumitlag o nangahas magpasaklolo
    Pababa lagpas sa ulap, sa bundok,
Sa tore, sa bubong at lumagpak
    Bumagsak, nawasak, nasira
Nadurog, lumuwag, lumiwanag, at
    naimulat ko ang aking mata
Upang datnan ka sa aking tabi
    humahaplos, umaaruga
Minamahal ako.

Februrary 06, 2002

#13: Two High School Fantasies

Roughly two months ago, around 2am, I was laboring in front of the editing computer with my husband. We were getting tired of the voice-over from the project we were doing so hubby opened the TV and tuned in to MTV. The set wasn't anywhere in my periphery so I just listened to the music, if there is any musicality at all in any of their offerings.

Tene-nono-nenet tet-tenononenent.

          Tene-nono-nenet tet-tenononenent.

I was hearing this guitar riff. It was a little catchy so I glanced at the screen and glimpsed the eye-lined face of the singer who used to be my high school fantasy. He was still a drummer then. All this time I didn't know he is fronting this band. He looked straight at me for one moment. Then he went back to trying to look silly by doing his antics again while holding this megaphone.

Ok. Back to work. Tene-nono-nenet tet-tenononenent.

                                      Tene-nono-nenet tet-tenononenent.

I did go back to work but with that half-a-second, he was able to hold my gaze. He is not handsome, though his smile does something charming to his face. But that's beside the point because he wasn't smiling when I saw him. What got me is the intensity he can exude with his gaze. I think that's what fascinated me ten years ago. And it is still what fascinates me now.

The annoying VO stuck in my head already has a companion. Pleasantly and painfully in there also, was that half-a-second stare.

After two days of being enslaved by the editing we were doing, hubby and I decided to drop by Conspiracy. They are featuring a famous rock band, famous enough to command a 150-peso entrance fee. But tonight, it's for FREE! More reason for us to drop by and check them out then.

We went in, trying to hunt for an extra booth. Hubby being easily irritated by crowds and noise, asked to stay outside until the main band's appearance. I, being stubborn and determined, searched further and found college blockmates instead. So I got both a seat and people to talk to.

Now that I earned us some seats, I went back out to invite hubby in. It was so crowded that I was partly annoyed by this skinny guy in black clinging on the door jamb; he was blocking a third of the already crammed doorway. I squeezed against him on my way out. Hubby's not around. I squeezed against him again on my way back in. I miss my hubby easily so after a while, I went again on my way back out to search for him. That was the only time I realized that the guy blocking the door was my other high school fantasy.

This high school fantasy inspired me so much then that I was able write one of my best teeny poems. He wasn't fronting the band then. He composes the songs, plays the keyboards and sometimes the guitar. Ten years ago, he was just quiet, always in the background. His magic was in his quietness. No pretension, no flash. Just his profound and painfully romantic poetry. The Lord knows what I would have given ten years ago just to have the chance I have RIGHT NOW in this present time.

Right now, that my skin brushed against him three times in one hour.

Right now, that I can inhale his scent all I want.

Right now, when I can steal a caress on his hand that commands notes and words that move me.

The only difference is that RIGHT NOW, I don't need them anymore. There is NO MORE MAGIC. He is just too… too… showbiz now. The mysterious quietness is gone.

I'm not sure if I should feel sad or silly. Sad, for the 15-year old Anne because the chance that she'd been yearning for then came ten years too late. Silly, silly that I'm even pondering upon this irony in my life because I know I can't care less. Heck, I mean, he looks sapped, bleached and greasy nowadays.

Two high school fantasies in two days. Two different reactions. Interesting.

#12: Anne Went Away For Three Days

And she returned right when her appetite did.

It's ironic how I wrote about my gastronomic fantasy just a few days before this experience. As all my friends know, I love eating! What's better is that the Lord blessed me with a fairly active metabolism so I can eat hefty amounts of food every now and then. Though still I'm no hourglass; I don't know where the waist ends and the hips start. Being more straight than curvy, I make up by having proper posture. But that's beside the point.

I woke up some Saturday ago with this slightly nauseous feeling in my head. It was the last day of Hermeneutics class. I passed on breakfast and went ahead to prepare so I will be early for our final quiz. I resolved to just have my usual Saturday morning breakfast of coffee and crackers in the class since they are offered during sessions for free. But there was a change of plan when a good classmate of mine bought me a slice of banana bread for no reason at all. I expected myself to relish and enjoy my upgraded breakfast when I noticed, I'm not very interested with it at all. I weakly nibbled on the delicious bread. I'm not a breakfast person so I thought that was understandable. Now this is what I did not understand.

Wanting to celebrate the conclusion of our Hermeneutics session, my motherly classmates brought pansit, lumpiang shanghai, putong galapong and rice. It was a nice FREE meal so Anne dug in…

…and felt dizzy at her third mouthful.

After that, I had to force myself to eat just so I'd be able to finish what little I put on my plate. My tongue said it was tasty but my body and brain was telling me to stop. I felt sick the rest of the day and it didn't stop there. My body was better the next day but for the next two days, my appetite disappeared. Just like that. POOF! That felt so weird for me. Even if I was served chunky spaghetti or inihaw na liempo with suka (which I was craving for for two weeks), I only ate around four spoonfuls and I'm done. I can't even say I enjoyed it. I just tasted the smoked, slightly salty meat, the tangy vinegar and onions and that's it. IT EVEN BORED ME! Sheesh… Would you believe that? No eye-rolling, breath-taking thrill.

That so freaked me out. I have become one of those ridiculous people who see eating as a necessity more than a pleasurable privilege. I became someone who just pushed their food around their plate, eventually leaving half the serving uneaten. I have become one of those I thought I CAN NEVER understand. Now, I'm even able to empathize with them because I realized, these food-pushers have such a sad, sad life. I went through this for three days.

Just before I became depressed about it, I sautéed some cabbage and fried a fish and shared this lunch with my husband. I started chomping and nodding in appreciation and smiled. What do you know? The zombie is gone and I am back! I guess the strange virus flew and left me. I brightened up the moment the salty, sweet, sour and bitter are not just data sensed by my nerves. These tastes went back to becoming blessings, pure guiltless pleasures! Well, at least provided that you eat right, heehee! I learned that as long as I have the ability to enjoy the simple blessing of eating, it won't matter if it's just veggies and fish or a sirloin steak. I'm glad it didn't take a complicated meal to make me discover that goodness.

#11: Allow Me To Be Self-indulgent

I knew we were experiencing the Great Depression when I found myself craving for restaurant food. We just finished our Guinisang Sardinas dinner and for the last three consecutive meals, we ate the same thing. Sardines is really fine for me but eating it consecutively is another thing. I asked my husband,


"Do you think we'll be able to afford a nice sit-down dinner in a semi-fine-dining restaurant anytime in the future? Yung kumpleto, may soup, main course and dessert, coffee... ayun?"
"I'm sure, sometime in the future", he answered smiling faintly, probably feeling for me, understanding the food-lover/adventurer in me that is being frustrated by our present state.
Encouraged by his answer, I closed my eyes to push my fantasy a little further.
We'll drive to a resto, something like Annabel's or Cafe Bola... something like that. We park then we will be welcomed by the hostess. We'll sit down and ponder upon the order, this time looking at the food that I really like and not the price I can afford. We'll probably have French Onion Soup with French bread on top crusted with melted mozzarella cheese.. I can imagine the soft, brownish, caramelized onions. On the side, we'll have a simple Caesar Salad. After that, my husband will order a fillet of fish (as always) with some creamy sauce or pesto sauce on top and brown rice, I will have garlic pesto pasta with... hmm, chicken But that's too boring. Garlic pesto with pine nuts and Parmesan cheese and Italian bread sticks. Or pasta puttanesca! Right... with parmesan garlic bread (I love garlic!) Or if I'm not having this, I'll have Cordon Bleu and garlic mashed potatoes and some exciting vegetable dish on the side. Finishing our meals we'll proceed to order his creme brulee, still flaming when served, and my blueberry cheesecake... yup, tart berries, creamy, firm and smooth cake, melts in my mouth, contrasted by the crumbs in the crust... maaaaan, I'm sinning now... As we're downing our desserts with a cup of cappuccino, I opened my eyes.
And felt so much better. I felt so happy!
I don't know why. I was expecting to be a tad deeper into my self-pity but instead, it comforted me. Because I discovered that I've eaten enough good food to remember how they feel and taste in my mouth and to fuel lavish fantasies such as this. While others can only fantasize about the next pandesal that they can afford, I go rattling French and Italian in my mind. I don't feel so sorry about the sardines anymore.
If you once afforded, or can still afford a Chowking lugaw, a sidewalk mami, a Starbucks ensaymada, a bag of rolled oats, Ma Po Tofu from North Park, a handful of Judge gums from the nearest suking tindahan, a chili rice from Wendy's or a nice hot garlic shawarma, be grateful. You have something to smile about.

#10: Silly Paper Tokens

I am the administrative arm of our business. Yes, I am the Vice President for Administration, the Administrative manager and the Administrative staff. Heck, I am even the messenger of our little company most of the time that is why I am more or less familiar with the banking rituals. In our bank, when you open an account, you should bring IDs, a billing address to be sure, fill-out forms, sign in numerous blanks, the works. They want the IDs photocopied so they can keep a copy. Twice we opened an account, twice we went out to hunt for a photocopier to accomplish this. This story happened during one of those bank errands when I assumed the role of the messenger.

I dropped by our bank to pick-up our bank statements. I sat at the customer service counter, hoping someone would notice my eagerly-waiting look and attend to my transaction. Five minutes passed by and no one even looked at me. I refused to become impatient  because I can see that the ladies in blue behind the counters were busy. Some are politely smiling at their clients, some are staring intensely at pieces of paper.

That was when boredom opened another of my eye and saw this good-smelling-looking lady to my right. She is probably in her late thirties. On her forearm is a gold bracelet and an expensive but simple watch, on her ears, a pair of pearl earrings. She's just in a cotton collared shirt and cream walking shorts. Her fair, smooth skin tells me she doesn't stay long in areas without airconditioning. It is probable that dust hardly touch her. With pleasant confidence, the woman approached the counter and sat down. A blue lady #1 caught the whiff of money hanging in her presence and immediately, came to her.

'I want to open an account please.'

'Very well, ma'am. Will you please sign these forms?'

'ok.' she smiles.

While this was happening, a man with as much elegance and confidence came in and sat beside the lady. No one can deny that this couple is oozing with an aura of wealth. The simple simply-rich.

Meanwhile, to my left, my other bored eye noticed this small, thin girl in her early twenties. She clutches a tacky plastic envelope that job applicants usually bring to keep their documents in. she stands a little behind me because there are no more available seats. as if to make sure I feel ignored, blue lady #2 notices her first, asked her poker-faced,

'Ano iyon?'

'Mag-open po ako ng account.'

'Dala mo ID mo'

'Pwede po ba ito?'  Handing out her passport

'Ok iyan. Ipa-photocopy mo muna.'

'Sige po.'

The girl places the passport inside her plastic pouch and went out. My attention reverted to the well-off couple. I looked at them just in time to see their messenger come in, IDs and bond papers in hand. He gave them to blue lady#1.

'Ma'am ito na po IDs niyo' said blue lady

'Ok thanks'

Apparently, they were not asked to go out to look for a photocopier, just like the skinny girl beside me, like me and my husband in all the times we opened accounts. In typical sunny bank commercial fashion, the simply-rich smiles as they filled-out the forms and counted cash in 500s.

I felt furious, insulted, discriminated and disrespected. I wanted to go to them and ask them to tell this couple to go out and photocopy their IDs themselves, the way all the other clients did. It would have been fine if they posted a sign saying 'people with big blings and hot cars get free photocopying service'. At least it would have prepared me for this inequality. But somehow I got pasted to my seat as I quickly became overwhelmed with a profound sadness and pity for this world. If you look like money hangs from you the way bells hang from a Christmas tree, you'll most likely be treated well. It is amazing and disheartening how money, or even the prospect of it, can bend rules, define politeness, secure seats and distort loyalties. But what is money? They are units, numbers defined by paper tokens.

In my pondering, I was interrupted by a blue lady, finally asking me what they can do for me. How I wish I looked rich so they could have attended to me earlier and I was spared this depressing scene. I finished my business, went out of the bank, faintly disgusted but also grateful that I don't belong in this world and I won't have to be stuck with these silly paper tokens.

#9: I Pulled a Toenail Before

I used to pride myself in being tough, especially to blood and gore and pain. I freaked out some of my friends because I told them how I had my victory over pain by being able to pull a whole dead toenail. Even when I was still a kid, I didn't ever cry over a wound, even if all that is left of my knee are debris and bleeding flesh. Knives cut through my fingers at least thrice a year. I even accidentally/ stupidly cut myself with a blade because I slid it over my thumb, testing if it was really sharp. Oh yes, you bet it was sharp.

And again in all those times, I didn't cry.

I guess bitterness and pride and a constant exposure to other pains the eye can't see makes the visible ones easier for me. I even suspected that my mild masochism during my confused teen years sprang from a desire to flood my inner pains with the physical so even just for 4 seconds or so, all my mind will register is the throbbing of my nerve endings.

Now don't go thinking I am a sickoEalthough I can't blame you. I just said that because earlier, I realized something changed. I was preparing the ingredients for our Ginisang Mongo dinner. I've chopped up the garlic, onions, tomatoes, ginger when I realized I haven't thawed the pork yet. I took it out of the freezer and obviously, it was rock hard. Thanks to my home-TV-shopping serrated knife, I sawed off the chunks little by little. I was doing my last slice whenEo:p>

KRRRRRRG! Uh-ohEo:p>

I sawed off half my thumb knuckle. Freakazoid! I held my breath for a second, waiting for it to sink in. Usually, I get startled and then while the wound is still numb, I'd go to the sink right away to wash it, steeling myself against any sudden pangs caused by the water and the germicidal soap. But earlier, there was no numbing! It was painful right away, as in s**t!

"Baby, nahiwa ako."

I went to the sink and man! *%&#@! I was trembling by the time I finished washing, if you can call it that since I can't even touch it. I also noticed that I was breathing in gasps. I had to remind myself to breathe well. I was on the verge of tears when I thought to myself "Mighty Anne ain't no wimp! She never ever cries over some sissy cut!" I Inhaled deeply, blinking my tears away. My husband took a really cute pink Sanrio band-aid (the one with this dog and cat taking a nap together). When I held out my thumb to him, that was the only time I saw my thumb bleeding really bad, while sending waves of pain on my whole hand.

"Wipe off the blood first," he says. Weakly, I dab the edge of my violet cotton shirt on it. (Wahahaha! This bit is totally hilarious for meE Then would you believe? I started to black out! My sight got dark and I feel like I'm running out of air! I had to drop on the nearest chair and while I was slumped clumsily, I started letting out sobs, just like a whimpering dog! A part of me was getting red out of embarrassment from myself.

"Sheesh Anne, how pathetic can you get?!?"

"Esob*"

"Oh please, get out of my sight, you are making me sick."

"*Sniff* Why don't YOU get out of my sight? I'm trying to breathe here!"

Obnoxious, masochistic Anne leaves in disgust. Wimpy Anne is left with her concerned husband.

Yeah, come to think of it, I cry a lot lately. Remember the entry "A Moose Made Me Cry"? I also cried there. I wondered why. Then I figured, maybe it's because the Lord has already spanked me often enough to learn that my former tough, strong-hearted, self-sufficient being is not sufficient at all. Only when I become defenseless do I open myself up to be loved and nurtured by others. Why would anyone help you if you think you're not helpless? How can someone wipe your tears if you don't know how to cry? It's only when you accept weakness that someone stronger will be able to stand in for you.

Then in between sobs I said, "I think you made me into a woman." He just smiled while he was wiping my face.

 ... For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor. 12:10b

#8: The Sorry Entry

I Apologize

I was too scared.

Too scared of lack.

Lack of time, lack of money,

Lack of words, lack of energy.

Though I never thought of

Lacking you someday.

I should've chosen to give,

Laugh without worries,

Even just for a night.

Now, you are behind that glass

And in a faraway cradle.

Either way,

I won't be able to

buy you coffee anymore

and see that thrilled smile.

Not ever.

In a shaded sidewalk, a woman sits crying, looking far at the trail of people in black. A gentleman passes byE/FONT>

Man: Ma'am, can I be of help? Are you ok?

Woman: No.

Man: I'm sorry for your lossEas that your parent?

Woman: No.

Man: Your friend?

Woman: No.

Man: Was that your husband?

Woman: No.

Man: Who is that person in your life then?

Woman: No one.

 Man: Then why are you crying?

Woman: Because now I will never know who that person can be for me.

Then the man looked at the disappearing trail of black people, sat with her, and silently cried.

#7: Sgt. Pepper is Lonely…

...because few understand what peppers are for.

Salt and pepper are soulmates. They are meant to be together in almost every savory dish. Although we know what salt is for, why do you think there is pepper?

This is my attempt to put together my knowledge, logic, assumptions and articulations to put meaning in these taken-for-granted granules.

Let me start by explaining how the art/science of tasting occurs. When we eat, we don't just enjoy the taste of the food through our tongue. Our tongue is limited to only four sensations: sweet, sour, salty, and bitter. What gives any food its dimensions, the roundness, or richness is its aroma or what we call in tagalog, langhap. Take the sentence namnamin mo ang pagkain. It's a call to enjoy your food by really immersing your self in its taste. The word namnam is actually an onomatopoeia of the movement of the mouth which helps get the aroma of the food to our nose, thus maximizing the taste of what were eating. We'll get the langhap if we make namnam the food. (BWAHAHAHAHAHA!)

Try mo. Namnamnamnamnamnamnam. Hehe.

The aroma of the food we are chewing travels from the mouth to the nasal cavity. It's kind of smelling the food from inside our mouth. That is why anything tastes bland if we're down with a bad cold. Our sense of smell is not working, hence, we don't experience the aroma of our food. Eat caldereta with a cold and it will just be boringly salty and sour. But once our olfactory sense work, we start noticing the hint of liver, the juice of the beef, the toasted garlic and sautéed onions, the slightly earthy sweet smell of peanut butter, even the crisp whiff of green bell peppers. In the same manner, (this is gonna be a distasteful turn) we say, "Lasang ipis yung kanin" even if we fully know that we don't eat ipis to know how they actually taste. We just know how they smell. Yet we still say lasang ipis, because the nasal cavity registers the cockroach smell.

Now the concept of mint. (I thought this entry is gonna be easy but I'm starting to have a hard time now…) We all know that the pepper is sort of minty, even hot, in large proportions. The minty sensation, as we experience in toothpastes and chilies, is not a taste. I'm being redundant here but it is actually a sensation, a feeling that sticks to our skin, and in the case of our nose and mouth, our mucous membranes. That's why when we eat something hot, we can't easily wash it down with water because it is an irritation of our mucous membranes. After brushing our teeth, the mint, stays in our mouth, in our nasal cavity, even after we rinse our mouth.

What I think the pepper does is, it gives the dish that subtle minty element. Whether it's the sharp sweet bouquet of the langka, or the rich barky (? - here barky, barky!) milky flavor of gata, the pepper pushes the aromas to stick to our nasal cavity a little longer so the taste experience will be more lingering. However few the specks of pepper in your soup, it pushes the flavor from fleeting to lasting. Without pepper, any savory dish would've been …flat. The great thing about this is, even if you don't see all the pepper-specks, you know they're there, making your experience richer than it is supposed to be.

Whew. For the few like-minded people I know. My pepper-speck friends.

#25: An Unusual Love Letter

Surprise! You're pregnant!
I am? How can that be? I am not supposed to be.
Why not?
Because I was supposed to be "safe". Because Himig is barely 1 and a half years old. Worst of all, because If I'm six weeks pregnant now, it only means I was 3 weeks pregnant when I got chicken pox. I can't be pregnant.


But I was. There was no denying it. I told it to my usually bubbly OB-Gyne and as expected, just like me, she wasn't able to rejoice. I had chicken pox. Chicken pox and pregnancy should not even belong in the same sentence. It took me a while to get my head around that reality. I allowed myself some time to mourn and accept that things may not go as perfectly s it went with my firstborn, Himig. I even prayed that I'd rather have the Lord just take my second baby right away than give birth to her with parts of her body or mind deformed from the effects of the chicken pox.


However, a wise mentor of ours reminded us that this is a blessing and nothing is impossible with our God. He allowed it to happen and it should be beautiful. After digesting that, I was finally given the grace to let go and have peace that God, in the end, is in control of everything. Normal or otherwise, He has the final say and ultimate plan.


A lot of trusted friends prayed with us until on my 5th month, I received a love letter from our Maker. It is addressed to me and worded in a very unusual way but it is one of the sweetest letter I ever received. He titled it Congenital Anomaly Scan Result. Here it goes:


Esteban, Anne


Pelvic Ultrasound:
Single, intra-uterine fetus in cephalic presentation with:
Good cardiac and somatic activity
No uterine mass seen.
Placenta - posterior, grade 1, high-lying
Amniotic fluid: maximum vertical pocket = 4.5cm


CAS: Intact cranium, normal head shape, normal intra-cranial structures. No neck mass. Nuchal fold not thickened. Intact lips and normal facial features. Normal intra-thoracic structures. Normal 4-chamber view of the heart. Intact diapragm. Normal kidneys and partially filled urinary bladder [haha! may wee-wee na siya!]. Intact spine. Complete and well-aligned extremeties. 3-vessel cord. Intact cord insertion.


MOST PROBABLY A BABY GIRL
NO GROSS CONGENITAL ANOMALY SEEN IN PRESENT SCAN
ESTIMATED DAY OF DELIVERY: DEC. 22, 2010


*end of letter*


I was not able to do anything to stop my tears from welling up when I read this. It was a very bright light during a dark and tumultous time in our lives. An eye-rolling-ly refreshing drink of cool water in a mall after a full, El Niño summer day stuck inside your air-conditioning-deprived car in the traffic of Recto.


So pray. Learn to pray. Ask your friends to pray with and for you. 


Know that you are not in control, that when you surrender that "illusion of control" to the One who is indeed the God of this Universe, things will turn out just fine. He may even send you your own love letter just so He'll be sure you got the point.

#6: A Fact and a Question

FACT: We are human. God is God.

Fellowship

People sitting around, not trying to flash their polite smiles, the smile which forces the eyes to smile a little more sweetly. Instead, they sit poker-faced, or sometimes half-smilingly, or sometimes concentrating in scrutiny, listening, speaking. People laughing with all the wideness of their mouth, not fearing to let others see the amalgam in their teeth or the half-masticated meat still rolling around their mouth. People side by side, staring at a TV screen. People staying in eagerness, putting time and rest and silence second priority. People cross-legged, slumped, legs happily sprawled in your presence. They lie on their backs, on their belly, on their side. People eating as much as they can, feeding as much ay they can, giving as much as they can. People not scared of touching the trembling back of a sobbing body. People not scared of having their tears seen by people who they trust are equally human.

Holy Spirit

Is not an "It" but a "He". Is not an object but a Person, a Person who sees, feels, grieves, celebrates. God the Father is Jesus is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is God's Spirit. The Holy Spirit is God. The same God who placed each nebula, each pulsar, each sunrise and sunset in clockwork precision. The same God who conceives every rainbow-colored movement on the surface of a bubble. The same God who parted a whole sea. The same God who designed all animals, insects, each genom and species. The same God who lovingly placed each vein, artery, neuron, liver, ligament and air sac in our body. The Holy Spirit is God IN YOU. IN ME. IN EACH OF HIS CHILDREN. The power of God in us. The essence of God in us. How can we be separate from Someone in us? We have nowhere to go but to His heaven, because His Spirit, belongs to heaven.

Fellowship with the Holy Spirit

The Father eating sinigang with you. Jesus writing a poem with you. The Spirit watching a crappy movie with you. The Father, laughing with you in all wideness of your mouth, amalgam, half-masticated meat and all. Jesus, waiting with you for the computer to boot, for the dial-up internet to connect, for the jeep to finally arrive. The Spirit, sitting with you, alone in your room, crying every tear that slides from your eyes. The Father chuckling with you at the stubbornly sticking snot that just won't be flicked by your finger. Jesus with you as you pound your fist in rage against your poverty, your traitor, your father, your superior, yourself. The Spirit, embracing you, as you embrace yourself when no one wants to.

"When I consider the heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that you are mindful of him? …You have made him a little lower than the angels and have crowned him with glory and honor." Psalms 8:3,4a,5

How do you turn away from a God who is this much in love with you?