an anthem

There once was an african-american singer named Kid Safari who, in 93, released an album entitled The Romantic Heroes. Only 99.5 RT FM, as far as I know, was the only radio station in Manila that picked up his works and played this song, To The Sun, which goes:

If you try 'n want it, you can do it, a-ha

If you feel it 'n you want it, you can do it, a-ha

And all the love inside 'f you, you can let it flow, let it go.

If you're down, out 'f power, you can change it, a-ha

Wash it off like a shower, you can change it, a-ha

'n all the strength that's left in you, you just let it run, send it right...

To the sun -- that's all you gotta do

To the sun -- pass it all through

To the sun -- it will get back to you.

It's your fight, take your time, you can make it, a-ha

I'll always be by your side, you can make it, a-ha

'n all the hope inside 'f you, you just let it go, let it flow...

To the sun -- that's all you gotta do

To the sun -- pass it all through

To the sun -- it will get back to you.

When you're down 'n out, don't know what to do

Take it to the sun, it will get back to you

To the sun -- (2x)

You see, when you're down 'n out, don't know what to do

Take it to the sun, it will get back to you

To the sun -- that's all you gotta do

To the sun -- pass it all through

To the sun -- it will get back to you.

To The Sun escorted me on my first sem at Silliman.

Going to SU was a very wise decision that I made back then. I had a lovely, lovely experience while I was in Dumaguete. Although the decision entailed going on self-exile and asking UP Manila to release my records (the university registrar didn't want to give up on me; but only when I told her that I was transferring to SU did she sign my honorable dismissal -- by the way, she had to verify this from my mom who was her friend) and to make my gf then wait for me while I finished my studies (we broke up 5 months after I left because I got "distracted" -- of course, you know what I mean), my life changed for the better there. I grew up, became responsible and accomplished one big thing - a college diploma.

I replayed the song several times today in the car on our way to my special gurl's hometown, Tagig (she lived in a family compound near the municipal office). It was the first time she heard the song. And she chuckled a lot of times when she saw me dance in the driver's seat.

We all have memories that will be awakened by a song. In this instance, mine would be To The Sun and it brings back happy thoughts.

If a song makes you feel unnecessarily upset, hit that button and turn it off. Listen to it only when you're ready to handle the pain or bitterness or whatever.

* * *

kids should know that...

A solar flare is a violent explosion in the Sun's atmosphere with an energy equivalent to a billion megatons, traveling normally at about 1 million km per hour (about 0.1% the speed of light), though sometimes much faster. The flares have been known to affect the electro transmission of many earthly communication devices including computers, cell phones, pagers and automobiles. Solar flares were first observed on the Sun in 1859. Stellar flares have also been observed on a variety of other stars. The frequency of occurrence of solar flares varies, from several per day when the Sun is particularly "active" to less than one each week when the Sun is "quiet". Solar activity varies with an 11-year cycle (the solar cycle). At the peak of the cycle there are typically more sunspots on the Sun, and hence more solar flares. (wikipedia)

three weeks

Hoot is home for 21 days.

He's the neurologist based in Milwaukee, WI and NWA flew him in last night from Narita. Those of us who ride the same airline to and from the US are familiar with this route.

I've been going to theUS for a decade now. My first US trip was with him and my dad. It was Hoot's second trip. I went there basically not to enjoy Disneyland or Universal Studios or Magic Mountain but because it was more like seeing my brother off. He was to be left behind to pursue his residency in Chicago after graduating from the UP College of Med.

Since then, I went back and forth to visit him. I've been to LA, Chicago, Indiana and Milwaukee. Other trips were meant to meet up with former highschool classmates. One was based in Indiana and the other in SF. We all decided to meet up in downtown Chicago and it was in this state where I had my first TGIF and Lil Ceasar experiences. Meanwhile, it was in LA where I first tasted my Sbarro pizza.

Frequent trips qualified me to enrol in the mileage membership clubs of UA and NWA. The mileage I earned most came from domestic flights.

I would go to the US for a summer holiday. I wouldn't take summer classes and opt to get away from the country. After all, it's only in the US where I do my shopping (I don't really buy much and most of the spending are courtesy of my aunts living there).

There was one summer when, after arriving at the Manila Domestic (I was enroled at Silliman then), my dad picked me up only to hand me my passport. He parked the car at a nearby chinese restaurant where I changed my shirt (you've got to wear comfy clothes for a 13-hour flight) and had only about 30 minutes to be with him. We had to rush to the NAIA so I wouldn't be late for my US flight.

Before tonight's dinner, Hoot asked about my US visa. I told him it expired last year.

My mom frowned at me. She asked me why I didn't tell her, which I did back in January 2001 before my visa expired.

Anyway, both of them want me to renew my US visa.

They want me to do it before the hospital my brother works for applies a greencard for him.

Well, alright.

The reason why I deliberately didn't renew my visa is because I didn't think I'd go to the US again. It felt like I had too much of it, I guess.

I wasn't enthusiastic about the visa renewal. But because my brother said he'll pay for the fees, I'd be a fool to let that opportunity pass.

* * *

kids should know that...

Milwaukee's location in the Great Lakes Region means that it often has rapidly changing weather, and the city experiences the full range of the seasons throughout the year. The warmest month of the year is July, when the average high temperature is 82°F (28°C), with overnight low temperatures averaging 66°F (19°C); January is the coldest month, with high temperatures averaging 27°F (-3°C), with the overnight low temperatures around 13°F (-11°C). Of the 50 largest cities in the United States, Milwaukee has the second-coldest average annual temperature, next to that of Minneapolis. (wikipedia)

slave to a pumpkin

I had quality time with Pumpkin this morning.

When I got out of bed, I went out to the backyard to check on all that was hairy and walked on fours.

I saw Rufus and Bimbo, the older dog who is a yellow lab retriever.

The three cats were there, too. Pepper, her brother Snowball and her kitten Pumpkin.

I sat on the balluster and stretched my legs. I still had my peejays on when Pumpkin suddenly walked towards me. She was curious about the string on the waist of my peejays.

She hopped on the balluster and decided to have a small taste of the string. Then, with her soft bristled front paw, she tossed the string and tried to scoop it. She put it in her mouth and started chewing.

The string must have tasted bland because she quickly let it go.

But she wasn't done with the strings. She was so attracted to it. Or maybe distracted by it. She continued to struggle with it until she got bored.

When she was done, she turned her attention to my left ankle. She stared at it for a while and then decided to walk towards it. But she stopped and, instead, hopped on my lower left leg and did a short balancing act. Finally, she curled and perched herself on it.

This is mine, her behavior might have taught the whole animal kingdom in my backyard.

Right.

Pumpkin just learned how to make something big out of a small package. And she doesn't even need to see the film The Aristocats to act like one. It's all natural.

* * *

kids should know that...

The Aristocats is noted for being the last film to be approved by Walt Disney himself; he died in 1966, while the film was still in early production. It was originally released to theaters by Buena Vista Distribution on December 11, 1970. The title is a pun on the word aristocrats. (wikipedia)

a new ball game

I've seen the game on ESPN. It's called slamball. I don't think it's an x game. It's just revolutionized basketball with only a quartet of men on each team running and hopping on trampolines.

The game is exciting to watch for me because they are like in a circus. Those trampolines come in handy when you're aiming to take a shot of the ring and your height serves as a disadvantage when you want to dunk it like my man, Michael Jordan, minus the tongue sticking out.

I want to slam the ball like those dudes. But there's no court around Manila where you can do that. I don't think even the US is prepared to introduce this whole new sport to the entire nation, home of the basketball sport and great NBA players.

Solar Sports is kind enough to buy the rights to show it on local cable. Maybe these TV guys see the commercial potential of the sports.

Not a lot are catching up on the excitement, though. Of course, nothing still beats the physicality of ten men running up and down the floor of the court and challenging gravity without the help of a trampoline.

Four trampolines can make a player king of the dunks in slamball. And you can roll your arm and do whatever aero exhibition on your way to the ring. Once you dunk it, that's worth three points.

Slamball is not a new word, by the way. It's been mentioned before in the Star Trek adventures as the most famous sport in the galaxy. Now that's a trivia for you.

* * *

kids should know that...

First played in Los Angeles, California, the game gained attention from street basketball players in the area. Within a year, 400 people had been enlisted as potential players. In 2002, slamball made its television debut on the TNN network. The game was also sporadically covered on ESPN. In anticipation of a second season of Slamball on both Spike TV and the TNN, two expansion teams (the Riders and Bandits) were added and a new court was built at Universal City, California. (wikipedia)

chick in the city

My third house pet was a chick (the first was a parrot).

We lived in a 2 storey-apartment in Makati and, after our rabbit died due to old age, my father bought us two chicks, one for me and the other for my 2 older brothers (yea, they had to share it...signs of early favoritism?).

I remember the chicks being tiny and cute with light yellow hair. Buddy, my brother, named my pet Chico. The simple naming of a pet then was all new to me. I didn't know it was necessary.

My father bought about a gallon of chicken feed. It smelled funny and was similar to sawdust. I fed Chico a lot of the sawdust until I got used to the smell of the feeds.

We put both pets in a bird cage that used to house the parrot. One of my brothers made sure that there was water in the cage. I don't remember if my father put a bulb inside it to keep the chicks warm.

My brothers' pet died because Buddy was so concerned that his chick was always hungry. So he put it inside the container of feeds, closed the lid and went outside to play with the other kids. He completely forgot about it. I think it was one of the housekeepers who found the dead chick inside the container.

From that moment, Buddy took over Chico. I didn't mind because he was older and I wanted to share my pet, anyway.

One day, he opened the bird cage and let Chico walk on the dining floor. I don't know why he did that. But Chico was so small and walked without a sound that my father didn't notice it was out of the cage. It was an accident waiting to happen, I guess.

My father accidentally stepped on Chico.

Chico survived my father's weight for a few days. Eventually, it died.

My father scolded Buddy when he found out that my brother caused the death of the last chick - my pet.

I remember all of this today because this early morning I heard a chicken make loud noises outside our bedroom window that faces the roof of the house's first floor.

As I looked out the window, my special gurl said that she heard a cat last night on the roof, outside the same window.

"Animals are visiting me. They know I've been sick," I told her.

Nevertheless, I hope these animals call off Dr. Doolittle. I'm feeling better now, thank you.

* * *

kids should know that...

Chickens naturally return to the same spot to roost every night. On most occasions they will put themselves to bed and your only job would be to make sure the door is shut and locked before nightfall. It is best to count the birds each night as sometimes a bird will not find his or her way back into the coop. A bird left out at night is likely to be killed by a predator. (wikipedia)

something's wrong

I've been terribly sick for two days.

My fever fluctuates from 38.5 to 39.5. My special gurl has placed me under bedroom arrest. I sleep most of the time.

The uncomfortable part of being ill is that nobody knows what's wrong with me. My mother thinks I have a viral infection.

I don't know. But let's eliminate some symptoms.

I'm not coughing and there's no tummy pain. My head's not aching. But I take paracetamol every 4 hours to cure my fever.

What totally sucks about this is that today is Tin's birthday. She sent sms invites because there's a lil party at her house.

If only we were neighbors, maybe I'd do a Houdini trick and see what she prepared. Anyway, I've asked my special gurl to call up Tin and ask if she's serving spag or pansit.

So she did me a favor and called up Tin's number. Turned out that Tin's party is held at the house of relative who lives nearby.

I have a special gift for Tin. I plan to treat her to a body spa complete with milk bath and a whirlpool experience. She'd like that very much.

I think my special gurl will bring me to see the doctor tomorrow should my health not improve. She decided not to go to the clinic tomorrow even though I told her I'd be fine all by myself.

This morning she reprimanded me because I got out of bed and I was in the backyard with Rufus. She told me to stop moving around and to simply stay put in the room.

I decided to invite Rufus in. She didn't mind.

And, yea, why am I blogging? I'm using the laptop that she borrowed from her brother. She warned me not to be online for a long time.

I wonder what's wrong with me.

I showed her the small red dots on my arms and legs. I'm not sure if those rashes mean anything. Well, we'll find out tomorrow from the doctor. I have a feeling I'll be sick for a few days more.

* * *

kids should know that...

A symptom can more simply be defined as any feature which is noticed by the patient. A sign is noticed by the doctor or others. It is not necessarily the nature of the sign or symptom which defines it, but who observes it. Clearly then, the same feature may be noticed by both doctor and patient, and so is at once both a sign and a symptom. The distinction is as simple as this, and therefore it may be nonsensical to argue whether a particular feature is a sign or a symptom. It may be one, the other, or both, depending on the observer(s). Some features, such as pain, can only be symptoms. A doctor cannot feel a patient's pain (unless he is the patient!). Others can only be signs, such as a blood cell count measured by a doctor or a laboratory. (wikipedia)

the airport tower

Sunday headlines read:

Takeover of NAIA air traffic control tower, 'an isolated act,' says Bunye

* * *

The last eve of the full moon came to Don Quixote at the most unglamorous and violent hour.

Who would have thought that, without seeing the dawn, he would gasp his last within the confines of the windmill he himself engineered?

I disagree with Plato when he writes that philosophers ought to be kings. For humanity's sake, we should rather have scientists.

Now Don Quixote was a very brilliant inventor and one of his makings was improved technology in running the tower for flying men. Even the former king who lit cigars attested to that.

But when his brilliance got the best of him, and he barricaded himself inside the tower, the Queen's special squad forced entry in his windmill; they took him down like a mad dog. His brains splattered all over the bullet-ridden walls and floor.

Arnold, confessor of dead men walking, and probably the last influential media scooper he talked to, couldn't stop the brutal engagement.

Don Quixote was a good man. He loved his bastardized and corrupted Dulcinea country so much that he even drew the blueprint of a flying one-seater machine, his own Rocinante.

But we know what they say about genius people. There's a thin line between that and insanity.

Months ago, before the seige of the windmill, his own family might had simply watched him cross that line. They thought it was nothing serious.

And what can we say about his loyal Sancho Panza? He's a misplaced squire who accompanied him to his violent end. The infantry, after all, is trained hard to be loyal to their commanders.

Sancho Panza, who took more than one woman as his wife, was aware that Don Quixote had illucid intervals; and he realized that part of his mission is to protect the Don from harming himself. Don Quixote was more than his superior. He was like a father to him, who took care of his needs and gave him advises.

Time ran out for Don Quixote that early Sunday morning.

In the aftermath, to honor him, the Queen draped the flag over his metal coffin.

In this version, I ask Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, "Who is redeemed by Don Quixote's madness?"

* * *

kids should know that...

The world of ordinary people, from sheepherders to tavern-owners and inn-keepers, that figures in Don Quixote was groundbreaking. The character Don Quixote became so well-known in its time that the word quixotic was quickly calqued into many languages. Characters such as Sancho Panza and Don Quixote’s steed, Rocinante, are emblems of Western literary culture. The phrase "tilting at windmills" to describe an act of futility similarly derives from an iconic scene in the book. (wikipedia)

manic pop

We went to pick up something important inside the Harrison Plaza near Rustan's.

It was my special gurl's PRC Dental Certificate that her mother took time to had it framed at one of those small stands on the second floor of the mall. (Her mother works at the Central Bank just across the mall.)

The frame was beautiful and elegant because it was made of glass with wood edges.

We had lunch at the Yum Yum Tree near Rustan's Supermarket. While there, I noticed the air cellular cushioning material known as the bubble wrap. I was itching to pop all of it but, out of courtesy, I stopped myself.

Buuut...

When we got home, I eagerly asked her for the bubblewrap.

Well, she didn't say no. I felt she was going to tell me something, though, when she didn't hand me the plastic material right away.

Share. That was her word.

Share. I wanted not to.

Share. But I had to, otherwise I'd resort to something drastic like bullying my way, which I know I'd regret later.

Share...

"Oh woh kei," I said slow.

So, that evening in our bedroom, while she was watching a rerun of Sleepless in Seattle, there we were quietly popping the plastic material.

It didn't matter whether we'd have sore thumbs after. We weren't even talking to each other.

Some people have popcorn, we have poppers.

It was over in 5 minutes. Bummer.

But, hey, anytime I feel like popping a bubble wrap, I just head on to this webby.

* * *

kids should know that...

Bubble wrap was created by two engineers, Alfred Fielding and Marc Chavannes, in 1957. Like many innovations, it was accidental: The two were trying to create a textured plastic wallpaper with paper backing that could be easily cleaned. The term is a trademark of the Sealed Air Corporation which was founded in 1960 by those inventors, and should theoretically only be used for products of that company; the generic term for material of this type is air cellular cushioning material, although bubble wrap is rapidly becoming a genericized trademark. (wikipedia)

less a cheeseball

I was having quality time with Rufus, my big-headed American bulldog buddy, this morning at the backyard.

He sat on the floor while I enjoyed the rocking chair.

In a moment, one of our kittens named Pumpkin came walking by infront of us.

"Good morning, Pumpkin!" I greeted out.

Rufus let out a small growl, a sign that he didn't want to share the greeting with me.

"Rufus, cut it out." I warned him.

The dog behaved but kept his eyes locked on Pumpkin who walked with an attitude.

And then the thought just hit me.

Pumpkin's sister named Cheeseball was given away to our laundry woman early this week and I wasn't even notified.

...

So sad without a goodbye.

Sad I can no longer blog.

* * *

kids should know that...

Orphaned kittens too young to eat solid food may be fed a cat milk replacement formula every two to four hours. Kittens should not be fed cow's milk because it does not provide all of the necessary nutrients and they are unable to digest lactose, and it may cause diarrhea. Orphaned kittens not urinating or defecating must be stimulated to do so after each meal by rubbing with a warm, damp washcloth at the base of their spine where the tail begins. This is vital to the kitten's survival. (wikipedia)

amanda

My maternal lola has a beautiful name, Amanda.

She was the eldest of three children but was separated from her siblings at a young age. Before she was born, her mother had two miscarriages. To break what they believed was a bad omen, they decided to make the sacrifice of separating her from her parents at a tender age. She basically grew up in the care of her spinster aunt, the sister of her father, fondly called by my mother as Lolo Isidro.

Isidro and his sister, Juanita, is a member of the grand political clan, the Laurels of Batangas. The latter used to frequent that province when she was younger and actively worked as what may had been a profitable business back then, local gambling. Although illiterate, Juanita took pride in knowing how to count money efficiently and to tell time using the clock.

Lolo Isidro was a young don who owned houses and lots behind the Philippine Womens University in Manila. He worked in the court as a clerk. One of the infamous cases he got involved with was the trial of the national hero, Jose Rizal.

During the trial, he was so disgusted with the results that he turned to his friend, a rebellious priest who founded the Iglesia Filipina Independiente, or better known as the Aglipayan Church. He made Gregorio Aglipay his confessor and he would remorse, not in the church, but in his abode. It was like home service.

After excommunicating himself from the Catholic Church, Isidro shared long afternoons with Gregorio, discussing politics and church ministry.

He loved his wife, Felisa, all his life. When Felisa died because of complications due to diabetes, he never remarried and, as my grandmother remembered it, became depressed each day.

Felisa was a beautiful mestiza who belonged to the Gonzales clan, a family known for musical abilities. She had one of the beautiful voices heard in lavish parties in mansions. Her back up had to be an orchestra because an ordinary combo didn't bring justice to her talent.

It was a painful decision for Felisa and Isidro to let go of Amanda at the age of three. But that sacrifice resulted in two successful childbirths. Thus Teodora and Jesus were born.

Felisa died when Amanda was barely eight. When she got worse, her urine attracted ants. That time, diabetes was difficult to manage and treatment was left to God's will. Upon her death, Isidro rarely socialized.

The fraternal cousins of Amanda all grew up in Manila. One of them was Eligia who married a wealthy man. Later on in her life, she invested in apartments along J.P. Rizal St. in Makati and one door was rented out to my parents when they were newly wed. The apartment no longer stands. She ordered it demolished after 20 or so years. Today there is a condominium named after Amanda's mother, Doña Felisa.

Four days ago, Eligia passed away due to asthma complications. She was 83.

* * *

kids should know that...

In 1896, the Philippine Revolution broke out and his political and ideological loyalties were clear. Emilio Aguinaldo appointed him military priest in 1898; he was then officially excommunicated by the Vatican and Roman Catholic authorities. He called on Filipino clergy to unite against Spain, and in 1899, the Church indicted him of inciting rebellion. He was appointed bishop of the new Filipino Church, the Iglesia Filipina Independiente, thereby permanently severing ties with the Vatican. (wikipedia)

rosary

I pray the rosary. There's a rosary on the rearview mirror of my car.

Typical Pinoy.

My own rosary is courtesy of a very good friend who frequents Europe to visit a sister in Paris.

The rosary was one of her pasalubong when she came back. She also handed a tiny statue of St Bernadette praying before the Blessed Mother. It has a sticker underneath it so I can stick it on my dashboard (which I decided not to do, yet). The other gift was holy water in a plastic bottle formed in the image of a standing Blessed Mother.

I love the rosary she gave because it smells like a rose. It is in a round plastic container that helps preserve the scent. The floral smell whiffs inside the car the moment I open the casing. There's a writing on the casing that reads:

Santo Rosario, Petalo di rosa.

I am pray the rosary while driving. When my special gurl is with me in the car, we pray it together.

Sometimes after working out at the gym in Banaue, I'd join the high noon mass at the nearby Sto. Domingo Church. When I'm there early, before the mass starts, I take the rosary with me and pray.

The rosary, meanwhile, that hangs on my rearview mirror, is pretty much made of inferior quality. I don't even remember who gave it to me or where it came from. But I suspect it must be from SM's cousin, Charlie, who is on leave from the San Carlos Seminary.

The other day, when I went to hear mass at Sto. Domingo, I decided to bring the rosary with me. While I held it, I discovered that the string was worn out like an over-used rubberband. Very carefully, I rolled the beads. I imagined that if the string breaks, I'd be on my knees to gather and retrieve the beads on the floor of the church.

That'd be quite an embarassing scene.

Now I am not the religious type but I do know my prayers and, most often, I say my own and they come from my childlike heart.

The rosary is my daily dose of meditation that helps me harness positive vibes. If other people have their mantra, I have my 5 mysteries.

I grew up saying the rosary but it wasn't really an absolute everyday habit. There were months when I wouldn't. I'd be busy or lazy, I suppose. But once I get started again, I'd do it for a couple of months. And then, I'd lay low again.

Yea, it's like dieting.

I didn't even need beads. Fingers were good enough.

There was even a time when I'd say it while watching TV. One time I went to confession at the Redemptorist Church in Baclaran and told the priest about it. I asked him if it was bad to say the rosary while my eyes were glued to the television. The priest chuckled and asked me, "Naiintindihan mo pa ba yung pinapanood mo?"

Anyway, he said it was okay. Now, to the conservatives, that'd be an awful display of laxity. Well, I don't remember his explanation. That was way back in highschool.

Oh what do we really know of being holy!

Even Mother Theresa of Calcutta says the rosary while she's listening to her guests or feeding the poor. How different is that from watching TV?

* * *

kids should know that...

The Rosary came to replace the popular devotional practice that consisted of reciting the 150 Psalms of the Bible in thirds or 50 at a time. Instead of the Psalms, 150 Our Fathers were recited. Over the course of the middle ages, the Lord's Prayer was replaced with the Angelic Salutation, commonly called the Hail Mary. The prayers of the Rosary were set by the late 16th century. From the 16th to the early 20th century, there were no changes in the Rosary until the mid-20th century when the addition of the Fatima Prayer became popular. There were no other changes until 2002 when John Paul II proposed five new Luminous Mysteries as an option. (wikipedia)

a familiar turf

To say that my mother has been a U.P. employee even before I was born lacks truth.

She started out as a student assistant at the U.P. College of Public Health (back then it was known as the College of Hygiene). Since then, she's been working at an institute for eye research based in PGH.

No, she isn't a doctor (although she's a proud mother of a neurologist). She's an ophthalmology microbio researcher whose studies are mostly funded by drug companies.

My older brothers were all born at the PGH and I wasn't, only because my mother went into labor at home. The closest hospital that time was the Makati Med, which was new then, and where, fortunately, her ob-gyne also practiced.

Although I wasn't a literal PGH baby, I can say that I practically grew up there. I know each and every nook of it from Taft to Faura to Pedro Gil.

Most of my growing up years, with regards to the office christmas socials of my mother, I would be at the PGH with my brothers. We even performed as a trio and sang the lengthy 12 Days of Christmas and We Three Kings.

I saw the PGH before Imelda Marcos ordered its "modernization," giving birth to the Central Block; the demolishing of the tennis courts so the OPD could be constructed; the temporary dismantling of the large beautiful artworks of Botong at the lobby; small offices transfered from one wing or floor to another; and other stuff a non-UPM would never relate to.

When I got accepted in UP Manila, to the delight of my mother (as well as her officemates who are like my aunts and uncles) , it was familiar territory for me.

I love PGH. And if given a choice, I would rather be hospitalized there than at the Asian Hospital (of course, my special gurl frowns on this). I'll cite two and the only reasons why:

1. It's my turf, and;

2. The doctors, residents and nurses are all UP-bred.

* * *

SM and I were walking the corridors of PGH yesterday to pick up my mom.

That day she was walking a bit faster than me. I had to keep up with her pace at times,which I find difficult because the floors of the PGH can really be slippery.

Can you please slow down a bit? I finally said.

She complied.

I had my Reebok on but it wasn't the right pair.

What's wrong? she asked when she saw me looking at the floor while walking.

ME: I need suck-ets !

SM: (Laughs) You mean suctions.

ME: (Grumpily) Yea, suctions. My shoes don't have suctions. I'm going to have an accident if you won't slow down.

I walked quietly and concentrated on my feet and the floors of PGH.

ME: You know, you can pull me by the arms and I can ski without trouble. (Smiles)

I wondered if she was really game enough to pull my arms. But she wasn't. She didn't even respond to what I just said.

Yea, I guess I was ignored.

Or maybe she began to sleepwalk because I asked her to slow down, and when did just that, she went so slow that she fell asleep already, only neither of us were conscious of it.

Right.

* * *

kids should know that...

The PGH is the laboratory hospital of health science students enrolled in the University of the Philippines. This includes students of medicine, nursing, physical therapy, pharmacy, occupational therapy, dentistry and speech pathology. It is also affiliated with the nursing school of the Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila and the St. Paul University Manila School of Nursing. It is likewise the biggest training hospital in the country. (wikipedia)

active listening

I have a favorite parochial vicar at my favorite church in Malate supervised by the Columbans. His name is Fr. Michael Martin, a true-blooded Irish full of joy and expresses much of himself in Tagalog.

While waiting for Fr. Martin to say the evening mass last Saturday (and it turned out he wasn't there to celebrate it), I quietly thought of what I wanted that very moment.

Nothing, I pondered. At least, not for me.

The Malate Church can have such an enormous selfless effect on me. Here, I get to think of what God might want for me, or what He'd want me to do. The next question then is whether I'm strong and courageous enough to accept and to surrender.

Sure. There must be something that I wanted that very moment.

So, off the top of my head, I said to myself (and to the angel that guarded me):

Alright. How about if I give my seat to an old lady?

I didn't pursue the thought anymore because the priest entered to start the mass.

By the time the liturgical readings were being said, the whole rear section of the church was filled with mass-goers. There were people standing behid the last pews, near the large wooden doors. I knew this because I suddenly felt the urge to look at the crowd.

And then, I found her. The old lady who I said I would give my seat to.

She wasn't really old. The lady simply looked tired and haggard, making her aged. And the reason for this demolished posture and facial expression are the sleepy baby gurl in her arms and a plastic shopping bag she gripped in one hand.

Yea, there's my beneficiary. There's a slight problem, though. How was I to get her attention? I couldn't stand up and walk towards her because there were also people standing beside me (I sat on the edge). For sure, anyone of them would quickly occupy my seat especially once I vacate my seat. My beneficiary would have to make a crazy run for it, while I barricade these other people.

Right. I don't have a plan that doesn't involve distraction.

When it was time for everyone to rise for the Gospel, I whispered to SM and told her of my intention. I asked for her help because I wanted her to wave to the lady. Even then, I had doubts she'd be able to successfully beckon her to take my seat.

But a miracle happened. It was like the timing was perfect. SM and the lady just locked eyes. I signalled to her, stood up and waited for her to take my seat, which she did gratefully.

Now there's only one absolute real thing that manifested that night.

It's called answered prayer - perhaps both for me and for that lady and her child.

* * *

kids should know that...

Columbanus was born in Leinster, Ireland, in the year Saint Benedict died, and from childhood well instructed. He was handsome and prepossessing in appearance, this is reflected in his Irish name 'Colum Ban', which means the Fair Colum this is not, therefore, an anglicization. Young Colum's striking looks exposed him to the shameless temptations of several of his countrywomen, he also had to struggle with his own temptations. At last he went to see a religious woman, who advised him thus: "Twelve years ago I fled from the world, and shut myself up in this cell. Hast thou forgotten Samson, David and Solomon, all led astray by the love of women? There is no safety for thee, young man, except in flight." He thereupon decided to act on this advice and retire from the world. (wikipedia)

co-kid opener

ME: You think I'm cute? Somebody texted me that I'm cute a while ago. What's cute anyway? A toy dog?

TIN: No you're not cute. If she's talking about beauty or appeal or personality, nah-uh. You're not it.

ME: I'm just not your type. But if she texts I'm smart, I would say she's heck right. (Smiles)

TIN: No still. Hell, you're brilliant. Oops. That's me. Ok. Yeah, you're smart.

ME: Oh why did I ask you?!

TIN: Because!

The next day, on my way to the gym, I smsed her.

ME: But I'm not ugly, right?

TIN: Of course not!

ME: Qualify.

TIN: Later I will. Am in a meeting.

She knew I wasn't insecure and that the only reason for the sms was simply to affirm that I am a over-confident baffoon.

Tin was supposed to baby sit me yesterday. I figured not to go to the gym located in Banaue, one of the two places I work out at, yesterday after dropping off my special gurl at the dental clinic in Mandaluyong.

My babysitter, a.k.a. the bestfriend who took charge of the video coverage of my wedding, was to do some shopping at Robinson's Place in Manila. I could tag along, be her chauffeur, coffee buddy and her ward - kid and adult rolled into one.

ME: I need a day care.

TIN: Haha! And a gorgeous nanny.

I love her because she IS a perfect kid opener just like me.

Alright.

It's not like there's another hot choice out there.

* * *

kids should know that...

Day care appeared in France about 1840, and the Societe des Creches was recognized by the French government in 1869. Originating in Europe in the late 18th and early 19th century, day cares were established in the United States by private charities in the 1850s, the first being the New York Day Nursery in 1854. (wikipedia)

crumby excuse

I'm blogging with an empty stomach.

There must be a sandwich somewhere in the house. I like to have two slices of wheat bread with a thin slice of butter spread on each side please.

Yea, I want that. Now.

But SM is asleep.

Okay. What about Pauline, my generalissimo?

I can't find her. I called out her name but she didn't respond.

You must be wondering why can't I just make the sandwich and get it over with. Well...

Would it be a valid reason if I told you that I couldn't find my arms today?

Yea, yea, it's a lousy excuse.

What if I told you that someone stole my arms? Last night was halloween. I think I saw a scarecrow make a run for some trick-or-treat with my arms.

Hallucination - a sign of hunger.

* * *

In the 1719 novel Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe, the main character attempts to keep birds from eating his newly sowed corn stalks. As a discouragement, he shoots several of the birds and then hangs them in rows, such as English prisoners. The remaining birds are so frightened that they refuse to even remain in the area. While not the modern idea of a scarecrow, Crusoe does remark, "...I could never see a bird near the place as long as my scarecrows hung there." (wikipedia)