Growing Older and Techier

Over breakfast, my mother asked me to create for her a Facebook account. Then, she suggested that I get my father on Twitter, to which he replied that he would much rather setup a blog.

I drank my fresh hazelnut-flavored coffee from Baguio and when the caffeein kicked in, I got to work on their requests. Although they are already senior citizens, my parents have been able to use AIM, Yahoo, Skype, Magic Jack, and Google gradually over the years, to keep in touch with my siblings who are scattered all over the globe. My mom can access her bank accounts online, Papa reads his newspapers from the computer, buying only the Sunday issues, and together they watch their grandchildren on YouTube .

Before we got to the new account creations however, they asked me to give them a more detailed tutorial on how to maximize their Presario. I taught them about browsers, URLs, search engines, and websites. They actually had a lot of questions and it was fun. I had more tech-savvy siblings but I was the one they lived with so they didn't know what they were missing.

I showed them, like I did my legal research students, how to use keywords for more accurate results. My father's name is unique so we found only one website on Yahoo that had his full name - and it led to the Acknowledgment page of my brother's dissertation from NCSU. My parents were so delighted.

We were in the middle of reading my LinkedIn profile, which was the first search result when we typed in my name, when said brother suddenly invited us to a Voice Call through Skype. The tutorial was put on hold. My parents said we'll continue next week.

They leave next month for an extended trip to Sydney, to take care of my niece once my sister goes back to work. They want to watch TFC online and get in touch with their classmates, relatives, and friends via email and Facebook. I know of parents teaching their kids how to use the Internet responsibly. I am happy and proud to be a daughter teaching her parents how to leave their comfort zone and befriend their new laptop.

Luigi - Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2

While my nephew was performing, some of his family in the audience, including myself, were brought to tears. He's only 12. He's amazing.

Miko's Czardas

Highlight of my day: watching my nephew Miko Q. del Rosario play Czardas.

He's only 10, by the way.

Luigi Plays Jump!

I can only play the first 11 chords of this song. Luigi heard his dad playing it and learned it on his own. He was asked to perform during the Christmas program of his school, Centro Montessori.

Shaken, But Not Stirred

Since I can't sleep anyway, I might as well write.

I got hit by a bus. The car I was driving, I mean. I'm fine, and the car will be fine after repair, but it was another harrowing experience.

Is it just me, or have bus drivers, especially those plying the Fairview-Manila route, worsened in their blatant ignorance of all traffic rules and regulations? I must have been thinking of them too much and getting affected by their snake-like driving from Commonwealth to Taft Ave. that one night, I just found my car being slowly hit by a bus.

It was a rainy night, and rush hour traffic was moving slowly. I knew I was sticking to my lane, however narrow it was due to the inexistent lane division on that part of Quezon Ave., when all of a sudden I felt the collision, and to my utter horror, the bus driver did not stop. It only meant that he did not notice that he was already about to run over an entire car. He was oblivious to my car's blaring horn. He only stopped the bus when he heard a loud, scraping sound, and I don't know, maybe his passengers who had better eyesight and awareness of their surroundings noticed what he was doing.

I was all alone, and no matter my 10 years of practice, I still could not compose a single lawyer-like sentence to defend my rights. The driver, his conductor, and ten million other uzi (Pinoy term for people who like to ogle during the oddest and most inappropriate times, like accidents) proceeded to my side of the car. Driver insisted that it was my fault, because, if he had been the one at fault, I would have suffered greater injury. Then he asked me to move my car because his passengers were being inconvenienced. I felt my blood rising.

I should have thanked him for doing a Chavit! (Chavit Singson is the notorious "state witness" who told on his ex-friend Erap, thus starting his impeachment case, and who recently told the media that his lover and her new bf were lucky that he only hurt them and did not have them killed, after he caught them in the act of making love). Oh, thank you bus driver, that I only suffered that injury!

I told him instead that it the vehicles should not be moved until the police officer had had the chance to inspect the scene and make a sketch of the collision. Well, maybe in not that clear a manner, for I was in distress and close to tears. I willed myself not to cry in anger and frustration. I had to think.

It was hard to think. I could not focus. It was dark, it was raining, and I had been in that situation before, but for some reason - tiredness, maybe, or panic - I could not think straight. After a couple of minutes of quick prayer, I told myself that I had to pull myself together. I called up my family and friends to ask for help. I was so helpless and alone and I needed a lawyer, a policeman, a family member, and a friend.

I got what I wanted. They all came at the same time. The traffic police came first, and he was very efficient. I trusted him on instinct, and he was nice to me. I don't think it had anything to do with where I worked. He must have seen that it was the bus driver's fault and I was the victim, for he walked me through the entire ordeal and made me feel safe, that everything was going to be alright.

My brother was in a meeting, but he sent my sister-in-law, who immediately took photos and assured me with her presence. I wanted to cry when I saw her, but stopped myself again. She accompanied me to the police station, and only left when my friend, the lawyer, arrived.

My lawyer was no stranger to car accidents, having herself been in one last week, where I played the role of lawyer. She was the calm one while I tried to control my anger, and came up with a wise strategy that solved my problem for the night. She advised that we aim for a cash settlement outright. The policemen were very, very helpful. They did their job well without a single centavo from any of the parties. There is hope for this country. Goodness still exists underneath the rough exterior of people.

After a long, restless wait, the bus company operator arrived and the dreaded negotiation began. I tried to recall everything I had learned about those situations, but no concept or idea came to mind. That was what TSP was there for. She assisted me when I began arguing with the obviously drunk operator. The policemen let us come up with an agreement before they came in. They too were surprised that the owner/operator paid in cold cash, although his hands were shaking while he was counting the money.

This experience woke me up to many things, but one thing I know, is that when trials hit one after another, instead of complaining, I should be grateful, that God provides the means to triumph over them one by one. Worst things could have happened, my parents said when I related the story. I could have been hurt. My nephew asked his mom to tell me that he was glad that I was not hurt and that he loved me. I had wonderful friends who were praying for me and who offered help even though they could not be physically present.

Ironically, it's the bus operator's statement that summarized the experience. "Nobody is perfect on the road," he said. That's right. I realized that if accidents happen, as they sometimes do, there are much more things to be grateful for. As I told a friend when he asked me how I was after the accident, "I'm shaken, but not stirred." It was a bad thing to happen, but good things came out of it.

I close with the psalm for today that I read this morning before going to work:

I will give thanks to the LORD with all my heart in the company and assembly of the just. Great are the works of the LORD, exquisite in all their delights. (Ps. 111, 1-2)

For what can I say? He answered all my prayers tonight. I will sleep with that comforting thought. I will bring the car to the talyer this weekend. No driving for me for a few days.

Will also pray if it's time to move.

Arriving at the Next Step

What can I write now that I haven't already written during the past six years of this and my other blog's existence? I have been through trials and triumphs, challenges and victories, and all these things have been documented. But since God is good to me repeatedly, it is almost a disservice to Him not to speak of His goodness again and again.

Let me introduce my latest blessing by saying that each journey is different, and the way God has moved in my life cannot but affect others around me. Even if my decisions have made some people sad, it will only be for the short-term, and in the future they will be much better off and will meet new people who will fulfill my current roles so much better.

I write about my journey to share how it has been for me, as there were whispered prayers to God that have been answered in the specific way I asked Him to. Now isn't He grand? I thought I was meant to suffer, but the sufferings I endured turned out to have a limit, and one day I found myself free to go and to move on with my life, hopefully wiser from all that I have gone through.

The journey of finding the next step in one's career is not always easy; in fact in my case it has been a constant search for my place under the sun. I have done new things and met new challenges I would not have welcomed, were it not for God's clear instructions to stay where I was and to continue giving my best, even if I doubted whether my best was ever going to be good enough for the demands of my job.

I had a constant feeling of being inadequate, and longed to be measured in terms of the things I was good at - writing, for example - rather than things I was constantly groping in the dark about. Although results did turn out well eventually and I somehow got into the groove of the business, part of me was undeniably yearning for a life I thought I had turned my back on - my life as a lawyer.

After a lot of soul-searching, I asked God to let a job land on my lap. I had no time to job-hunt, and I had no desire to shift careers again. I did not know how things would end up, and I must have bored my friends to death with my constant complaints about my inefficiencies and frustrations at work. I have angels for friends, for they waited with me, and gave sound advice. I was in a good place, and I had to stay put until a better, concrete offer came along.

One day an old friend asked me to give the Court another try. I was closed to the idea because I was not sure how something I had already left behind would be my future. It was fun while it lasted, I thought. The Court was located in Manila, which I associated with flash floods and bad drivers. My friend encouraged me to pray about it, because I had constantly been talking dreamily about my life as a court attorney, and how I wanted to write for a living again. But I was familiar with Padre Faura, having studied in Manila Science High School for four years, and Manila, well I lived there for 15 years. I was coming home to Manila (remember a few posts ago, I posted the song)? I was coming home to the Court.

I went home and discussed it with my parents. My mother got excited, because according to her, my father brought it up just a week before, how he would be happy if I would go back to being Court Attorney. I asked my father what he thought, and he lifted up both hands in jubilation. I was surprised at his reaction, for my father was not prone to outward expressions of emotion. He said, "I have been praying for this for a very long time now!" He said he would be so much at peace knowing I worked for the Supreme Court and would even be open to the possibility of me becoming a judge someday. I told them I was almost tempted not to get the job because it made them too happy. It was a startling contrast to the time I insisted on resigning from the Sandiganbayan to work for Lingkod full-time as a volunteer staffer. That did not sit well with them, at all, but I had to do it, for my heart was so in it. It was the calling for me at that time.

Things moved fast after that. I talked to my old boss, and my current boss, two women I admired greatly. We worked out a plan and a schedule. It made a lot of people very happy, but I was the happiest of all. It was just time to move, and I had God's full blessing. Nothing was sweeter than that knowledge, not even the approving cheers of all my (burdened) friends. I did not have to apply; for the offer had been standing for some time now. I would not have to shift careers or to adjust in a major way, for this was my prior life. I had done my share of serving God full-time, and obeying Him to the letter, and it was time to be happy again.

Life is continuing to fall into place day by day. I am at a time of harvest again. The seasons of life do come, and I am glad I waited for the Lord to move before moving, for in His time, everything is in beautiful blossom, and they will all bear good fruit.

I will have time to rest soon before the new job starts. I am happy to be surrounded by such supportive family and friends. My colleagues whom I will leave behind are also very supportive of my decision. They probably can't wait for the despedidas and the parties as well.

Unceremonious Graduation from Torture

I woke up last Saturday not knowing that it would be my Freedom Day. That after several years of enduring braces on my teeth, my orthodontist was finally going to take them off.

I wish I had known beforehand. I would have prepared a little ceremony. I would have asked my parents to accompany me. I would have arranged for my friends to meet us after, so we could all have a nice lovely lunch.

Instead, it happened this way. When I got home on Friday night, Mama told me that my dentist's secretary called and informed her that the Doc wanted to see me on Saturday, and that I had to confirm anytime during the night. It was very important, the secretary said. Mama wondered what that was all about.

I explained to her that during my last few visits, I had strongly hinted that I was going to get myself featured in a dental magazine as the Person Who Had Braces on the Longest. The secretary begged me not to do it, as she said nobody would come to their clinic anymore. I said I was giving them (the dental team) an ultimatum. They had to take the braces off as they were preventing me from migrating abroad, getting married... basically getting a life.

I was using humor as usual to hide what to me was a source of frustration and irritation. I could have gone lawyerly and just filed a lawsuit for them to do their job properly and get my teeth fixed, pronto. They promised it would only take two years. Sure, I had missed out on a few appointments, but that started when I was already tired of those wires and bands that were residing in my mouth.

During my last visit, another dentist from the same team saw me. I had gone on a Friday, after several years of going on Saturdays, that's why I chanced upon her. She was mildly shocked to see that I still had braces on, and that my stubborn teeth still had not moved closer together.

My theory is that doctora talked to The Doctor, and informed him of my threat of a Dental Magazine Expose.

I had a full schedule last Saturday, with errands, chores, and meetings, but I squeezed in ten minutes to see my ortho. Little did I know that I was going to stay there for more than an hour, miss my movie date with my parents, and be poorer by a couple of thousand bucks.

He told me that he discussed my case with his team and they had decided to do recontouring, so that we all didn't have to wait anymore for the day when my teeth would finally obey the braces. I endured an hour of pushing and pulling, with my dentist working his magic, as if I had lost all my teeth on some accident and he was giving me an appearance of a perfect smile. He took a before-and-after photo. He took the darn braces off. I had to raise my hand to get gargle breaks during the procedure, as I had not eaten lunch (this was an unplanned procedure) and some acid from my stomach got caught up in my throat.

Afterwards, he told me, "Congratulations. This is your graduation day. No more braces."

I went home dazed. Magazine popularity? Gone. Possible lawsuit? Prevented (at least for now. Hehe). Pearly white smile? Here I come.

That night, while eating Mango Bravo at Conti's, I gave my friend K a bright smile, hoping she would notice. She asked if I meant she had chocolate on her teeth. I said no and kept my toothy smile. She said, "No Ella you don't have chocolate on your teeth." Our other friends who knew about my recent graduation from torture laughed and told her what I was smiling about. They found out about it on Facebook. My nephews immediately noticed when they came to visit the next day. Kids just pay more attention, sometimes.

If only all my braces would come off. Then I would have every reason to smile more.

Beautiful Children Concert

I was able to watch the Beautiful Children Concert last night courtesy of my friend from UNICEF.

I read about it from Ticket2Me and grew curious. It was presented by the Beautiful Mind Charity, the Cultural Center of the Philippines, UNICEF, Embassy of the Republic of Korea in the Philippines and is sponsored by the United Korean Community Association of the Philippines.

It was a benefit concert for the UNICEF Child Protection Fund. Some of the performers were people with disability, and they were very inspiring. Sang Jae Lee, a visually-impaired clarinetist, made my heart sing with his music. I had goose bumps when Hee Ah Lee, who only had two fingers in each hand and walked on her knees as she had 1st grade Congenital Limb Deformity, played Chopin's Fantaisie Impromptu brilliantly, followed by Anak, which she also sang in Tagalog. I asked myself, how many of us, with all of our fingers intact, do not exert enough effort to hone our skills. I can play the piano some and sing some, but not do both, while there she was, so small yet so powerful with her message of love and friendship.

I forgot to get our copies of the program, but was lucky enough because my date could name the pieces being played from memory. I brought him because I knew he could appreciate music and art. We went around the galleries in CCP before the show started and I asked him, not for the first time, to buy a painting for our living room. He said he'd just commission my eldest brother to paint one. I do hope that happens.

The Filipino artists who performed were soprano Alexis Edralin, who successfully survived a bout with Leukemia, and UNICEF Ambassador Gary Valenciano, the man after my own heart. I think it would have been better had Gary used live music to accompany his rendition of "I Will Be Here" and "The Warrior is a Child". He was supposed to be the surprise special number, but the other artists outshone him because they played live music.

I think nothing compares to going to a concert. Even the most high-tech sound systems and iPods cannot beat the raw emotions of the music emanating from the instruments like the piano, clarinet, flute, violin, cello, and drums. The performers might commit some mistakes but it adds to the authenticity of the experience. I was mesmerized by the movements of the violin, the most romantic musical instrument in my book. I'd like to own one someday even if I don't get to play it.

We ate at one of the restaurants in Harbour Square and remembered Darling Harbour, one of our favorite spots in Sydney. I made a mental note to tell my sister that Manila also had a nice harbour, especially at night.

It was getting late so my father and I went home to tell my mother about the concert. You must have guessed by now. My father, the Koreanovela lover and silent UNICEF sponsor of many years, was the perfect date for that special evening. The concert reminded me of many dreams I had, of helping the children, working for UNICEF, playing the piano, and singing for a cause. After watching a concert like that, I took this with me, that it was not too late to reach my dreams.

Still Amazing, Despite a Long Break From Blogging

What is my excuse for disappearing on you?  I had been feeling less than wonderful these past few days.  

I got sick with the flu, which almost always succeeds in slowing me down and putting life on hold.  I could not do what I usually did - that of making the mundane seem interesting, and of chronicling the simple events of life with eyes of awe and wonder.  Sometime after my last post, the river was just a river, so to speak.  I felt like I had nothing amazing to share.

So the book review on "The Secret Life of Bees" has been shelved. I have also backed out of some other projects offline.  Health and work had to take priority, aside from my other duties.  

But it had not been a month of boredom and monotony.  I had some serious fun as 

well!

Check out the photos.

I relived the beauty of Manila when I toured it with my family,

I watched fireworks last Chinese New Year at the Mall of Asia with my entire family,

I goofed around in our living room for a photo shoot,

I posed for our first proper family portrait, 

and

 

I attended birthday parties of friends.

All in all, still an amazing life.  And it goes on. 

I cut my hair.  I got sick.  I got well.  I went back to work.  I attended a prayer meeting.  I had coffee with great people.   And Valentine's Day came.

I will look at my blessings and be grateful for this amazing life.

My Father, the Techie - Part Two

While talking to my sister in the US about the Manila tour that we will give her and her husband next week, my father suggested some restaurants where we could all have lunch.

My mother, who could hear the conversation even if she was in another room, suggested that we try the buffet at the Manila Hotel.  My sister must have asked how much it would cost, because I overheard Papa saying, "Ma, paki-Google mo nga kung magkano ang buffet na iyon."

He used Google as a verb to find something on the Internet.  He had discovered the Information Superhighway.  I had to go to the kitchen and congratulate him.

Parents like to blog about their kids.  Daughters like to blog about their parents once in a while, when they are being cute as Papa was during this incident.

Of course we will end up eating at Aristocrat in Malate again, because that was where my parents had their wedding reception some 42 years ago.  We don't mind.  It's tradition.  Not everything has to change.

Things to Look Forward to in 2009

1. Arrival of all of my siblings for a two-week reunion, from Singapore, US, and Australia
   
2. Piano Recital (which reminds me to practice),
3. Trips to Cebu and Davao, will make sure to pass by Bohol this time,
4. Hong Kong Disneyland either with officemates or friends,
5. Singapore with parents (or they could go without me, and I will look forward to having time alone :P),
6. Applying all that I have learned during my first year in CD Asia and getting things done well this time,
7. Maximizing my gym membership that expires in May,
8. Getting a new phone each from Globe and Smart,
9. An upgrade to iPod from Nano (thank you Apple),
10. A dream retreat in Baguio (8-day silent, I hope to make it),
11. Arrival of an old friend for a month's stay in Manila,
12. Game Nights and winning in Taboo or conquering Cranium,
13. More 'gigs' with Tiguls/ ex Lingkod QC Music Min, whether at weddings or videoke sessions,
14. Spending time with real friends and I don't mean on Facebook, and
15. Turning 35.

This is going to be a great year, I can tell. ;)

Things to Do This Weekend

Since they are so short and I want to pack so many activities into them, I have realized that I should plan my weekends better. Before, my goal was just to do my laundry, go to the gym, spend time with family, and serve at the parish, but this weekend will be different. I am excited and just a teeny bit anxious.

I will start with an extra-long prayer time to get me through the weekend with joy and gratitude. And then...

1. Practice, practice, practice piano. Recital is tomorrow. Even if it's just for family and friends, they still deserve my best. After listening to my exhausted playing last night, I have realized that I need to exert more effort if I want my first recital in over a decade to be memorable in a good way.

2. Prepare the house for the small dinner and recital. Check the little details like hand soap and hand towels.

3. Coordinate with siblings based in Germany, Australia, Singapore, and the US so that they could watch live our mother's first piano recital in 40+ years.

4. Go to the supermarket to buy drinks and table napkins. I won't do any cooking tomorrow - too much stress - but I have to choose the right kind of beer for my Aussie friends.

5. Prepare my script. There should be some story to go with the pieces and to introduce the pianists. I have one in my head but it needs to be written down on index cards or PowerPoint, whichever I will have time for tonight.

6. Enjoy the night with loved ones. Will not drink until after my number. After that, the wine is mine. Say my goodbye with a smile to one of God's gifts to me.

7. Cook Sunday breakfast. Have not done this in a while.

8. Go to mass and serve afterwards. Thank God for a wonderful recital (I claim it).

9. Clean my room and prepare the stuff for Ella's Movable Ukay-Ukay (as requested by officemates who have been begging me to let go of old bags, shoes, wallets, etc. so they could buy them at reasonable prices). This is my personal fundraiser so that I could have a better budget for my growing Christmas list!

10. Brisk walk around UP Oval with old friends. I hope it doesn't rain. Otherwise, great excuse for a Sunday afternoon nap.

11. Get a copy of Sense and Sensibility just in time for Book Club first meeting next Saturday! One week to read the assignment. Great start, Ella.

12. Don't forget to do my laundry and press my uniform to prepare for another work week.

I love listing down things. It really gets me going. Now if only I could tick off each item as I accomplish them.

Naulanan vs. Nagpaulan Atbp. Kwento

Assuming I have non-Filipino speaking readers, my apologies but this entry has to be in Filipino.  The meaning would simply be lost if I attempt to translate it.  Anyway this will be very short.

Nilalagnat ako.  Na naman.  Matigas kasi ang ulo ko.  Palaging bilin ng Tatay ko na huwag na huwag akong magpapaulan.  Kasi raw, magkakasakit ako.

Ang katwiran ko naman, bakit yung mga batang naliligo sa ulan, nagkakasakit ba sila pagkatapos?  May kaibigan nga akong hindi Pilipino, sa bansa raw nila walang ganung konsepto.  Kaya hindi siya takot maulanan.  Pero dahil Pilipino raw ako, papayungan niya ako. 

Sa maraming dahilan, sakitin ako pag tag-ulan.  Sipon, ubo, sakit ng ulo, trangkaso.  Pero hindi naman ako laging nauulanan.  Hawa-hawa lang siguro.  Baka kulang sa tulog.  Baka kulang sa vitamin C.  Baka kulang sa TLC.  Baka kulang sa pansin.

Kahapon, puyat at pagod ako, at late sa pupuntahan, kaya pagkatapos kong iparada ang sasakyan, hindi na ako nagdala ng payong.  Nakalimutan kong malayu-layo pala ang lakad.  Hindi ko napansing maulap.  Ganun talaga pag nagmamadali.  Sa dami ng dala ko, may naiwan pa rin ako.

Pagkalipas ng dalawang oras, hindi na ako makalabas.  Isang oras na raw umuulan at baha na sa kalyeng pinaradahan ko.  Maraming taong naghihintay sa may pinto nung building ng gym.  Nagtanong ako sa mamang guard kung pwedeng manghiram ng payong.  E medyo pagod siguro si bosing, nasungitan ako.  "Wala kaming payong", sabi niya.

"Wala kaming payong", sabi rin nung babaeng guard na katabi niya, kahit hindi ko naman siya tinatanong.  

Tumayu-tayo pa rin ako sa lobby at naghintay na tumila ang ulan.  Meron pa kasi akong isang pupuntahan.  At inis na inis ako sa sarili ko kung bakit iniwan ko ang dalawang jacket at dalawang payong ko sa kotse.  

Ilang minuto na, sige pa rin ang buhos ng ulan.  Yung tipong puti na ang kapaligiran sa lakas niya.  Tumatalsik kaya naglalampaso na ang janitor ng building para hindi madulas ang mga tao.  Tumataas na rin ang tubig.

At umandar ang tigas ng ulo ko.  Naisip ko, ulan lang iyan.  Hindi dapat matakot sa ulan.

Kaya, hindi ako nagpaulan.  Passive iyon e, parang wala kang kinalaman at basta nangyari na lang.

Ang tawag dun sa ginawa ko, sumugod sa ulan. May determinasyon.  May purpose.  Palaban.  Pasugod.  Maliit na tuwalya lang ang tinakip ko sa bumbunan ko.

Basa ako hanggang medyas.  Buti waterproof ang bag ko.  Dri-fit ang suot ko.  Pero, basang sisiw ako pagdating sa kotse.  Ang masaklap, hinabol pa ako ng parking attendant at siningil ng trenta pesos.  Binuksan ko ang bintana at naulanan ang loob ng kotse.

Pagdating ko sa kainan, umorder ako ng mainit na calamansi juice.  Kasi parang masarap yun para sa nararamdaman ko, maginaw na hindi ko maintindihan.

Ang masaklap, paggising ko kaninang umaga, masakit ang ulo ko, may ubo na ako, at nangangati ang lalamunan ko.  Hindi yata't totoo, na magkakasakit na ako?  Kung ganon, kasalanan ko ba ito?

Pumunta ako sa Ateneo kasi may prayer workshop para dun sa retreat na sinalihan ko.  Okey naman ako maghapon, andun ang simptomas pero pwedeng hindi pansinin.

Pag-uwi ko sa gabi, sabi ko sa Nanay ko parang mainit.  Katapat ko ang bentilador.  Kapapatay lang ng aircon.  Tiningnan niya ako sa mata tapos hinawakan sa braso, tapos sa leeg.  

Pagkatapos noon, narinig ko ang sentensya na naniniwala lang ako kapag nanggaling sa ina, "Anak, mainit ka.  Nilalagnat ka."

Mainit ako.  Nilalagnat.  Maysakit.  At hindi yata ito nangyari lang sa akin basta.  Parang... kasalanan ko ito.  

O, mabigat na salita naman ang kasalanan.  Wala naman akong nilabag sa Sampung Utos.  Siguro mas tama kung sasabihin ko na lang na may kinalaman ako sa pagkakasakit ko.  

Pero totoo nga ba iyon, na kapag nauulanan ang tao, nagkakasakit?

Paano kung hindi siya naulanan, kundi nagpaulan?  Ano'ng tawag dun?

Tsk tsk.  Baka... katangahan.

Matutulog na nga ako.  Sakit ng ulo at katawan ko eh.  Atbp.

The S Word

A term that describes my state today is "unglued".  This, despite several therapeutic lunches and dinners with my friends for the past week.

 

Last night, I tried practicing some piano pieces for Fr. Geoffrey's Recital but stopped after repeating the same mistakes for almost twenty times.  My piano teacher, Mama, agreed that it was probably just an off night.  "Artists and athletes have those", I explained to her.

This morning, I cried all throughout the Charismatic mass.  I was not a member of the Catholic community that sponsored it so I felt nobody would remember me sniffling all throughout, from Opening to Closing song.  God could hear me, I could sense His presence, but I just stared back at Him.  What could I say that had not already been said about my situation?  

After mass, I was at my usual post as money counter after the mass, but I felt like I was the world's worst counter.  I mean, I love the Pondo ng Pinoy project of our diocese, but the sight of all those twenty-five centavo coins made me dizzy and Fr. Steve had to repeat counting some of the rows I neatly piled.  

Then I drove for my parents and nephews to Serendra this afternoon.  I committed several driving booboos and after a third driver honked at me for straddling two lanes out of indecision, I said out loud, "Yes, I know I'm being stupid."

Luigi, my 11-year old nephew, looked at me and said, "No, Tita Ella, you're not stupid."

And just like that, I wanted to hug him, my saint of a nephew, who once said that "I think everybody should love everybody". But if everybody loved everyone else, this would be Heaven already.  That's why there are people we cannot love and people who cannot love us yet.  We are still on Earth.

Luigi doesn't read this blog so I can very well say the S word here.  That's another apt term to describe me nowadays:  Mighty Stupid. Yes I'm being hard on myself. You'd think by now I've learned. I played a game I couldn't win. I don't even like games, so what was I doing in the first place?

I'll just sing.  This ought to summarize what it's been like.

Out of Reach

Gabrielle

From the Bridget Jones's Diary OST


Knew the signs
Wasn't right
I was stupid for a while
Swept away by you
And now I feel like a fool
So confused,
My heart's bruised
Was I ever loved by you?

Out of reach, so far
I never had your heart
Out of reach,
Couldn't see
We were never
Meant to be

Catch myself
From despair
I could drown
If I stay here
Keeping busy everyday
I know I will be OK

But I was
So confused,
My heart's bruised
Was I ever loved by you?

Out of reach, so far
I never had your heart
Out of reach,
Couldn't see
We were never
Meant to be

So much hurt,
So much pain
Takes a while
To regain
What is lost inside
And I hope that in time,
You'll be out of my mind
And I'll be over you

But now I'm
So confused,
My heart's bruised
Was I ever loved by you?

Out of reach,
So far
I never had your heart
Out of reach,
Couldn't see
We were never
Meant to be

Out of reach,
So far
You never gave your heart
In my reach, I can see
There's a life out there
For me

Picking Up the Pieces

Finally, I was prevailed upon to play the piano again, for a one-night engagement, here in our living room, as part of a family recital for a dear friend.  

I have a confession to make.  I never play because I don't think I'm good enough.  I'm not concert pianist-level.  I'm never going to make it to Julliard.  So I quit while I was still ahead, and opted to finish Business Economics, instead of taking up a Minor in Piano, which a friend of mine actually succeeded in doing.

It all came back to me tonight when I started practicing "The Poet's Harp" (Op. 38, No. 3, composed by Felix Mendelssohn) a beautiful piece from my college days.  After four tries (should be ten times, according to my piano teacher-mother), my neck and shoulders hurt (I can hear her reply - that this is due to my wrong sitting position), and I felt like I had wrestled with the notes.  I had to stop and play something easier, something I had memorized like the back of my hand, J.S. Bach's Two-Part Inventions, until I checked the pieces and the actual notes, and realized how wrongly I had been playing Nos. 1, 4, 8, and especially 13, all these years.  Like a friend of mine from a choir told me years ago, practice makes permanent.  I did not practice perfectly and so the effect of that mistake is permanent.  Unless I practice the pieces correctly, "ten times".  I stopped after an hour, for I could not hear the music anymore.  I also noticed that my piano teacher from UP's Extension Program had encircled parts where I made the most mistakes, and consciously or subconsciously, I hit the wrong notes on the exact same parts of The Poet's Harp.  Talk about repeating one's mistakes over and over again.

I will try again this weekend, and hopefully, I will not resist anymore, and will not end up feeling like I had just been on a boxing match with the piano.

There was only one man who was able to bring not just me back in front of the keys, but also my mother, who is even more of a musical perfectionist than I am.  One man, a good friend of mine who is leaving the country, requested a recital for his farewell party, and I could not help but oblige.  He also convinced my mother, who in turn encouraged her grandsons (the current performing stars of the family) to play at least two pieces each.  I don't know how to say goodbye, to face him and thank him for all that he's done for me, to wish him the best in his further studies, to ask him to write to me often, to memorize his face so that I don't forget.  I will just pour my goodbyes into The Poet's Harp.  I asked him to paint me something as a remembrance.  He is an artist who has stopped painting due to a new vocation.  I don't know if he will do his part of the bargain, but I sure am doing mine.

In the movies, goodbyes are so poignant.  They bring out the best memories and make the characters realize their worth in one another's eyes.  

In the movies, rusty musicians play gloriously in the end, and frustrated artists create masterpieces.

This is real life.  I don't know how this will end.  But I will try to enjoy the journey, and not commit the same mistakes I've made in the past.

Blessings in the Time of Oil Speculation

Unexpected blessings poured out this week.  I was able to spend time with different sets of friends, and I did not have to throw a party to gather all of them.  I could not invite all my friends because times are hard, but what a blessing because there were other reasons to get together, and they all happened during my birthday week so I took it as a gift from a loving God.

Last week, I had a fantastic lunch and coffee with one of the smartest people I know, followed by dinner with some good friends who were well-versed in civil and canon law.  On my actual birthday, I had breakfast with my parents at Jollibee after mass - with their Senior Citizen's card, our bill was the sweetest ever.  I saw some of the WYD delegates and was blessed by their experiences.  My grade school barkada Secrets treated me to dinner at Mary Grace in Serendra, and I brought home a birthday cake.

A couple of good friends gifted me with a dream come true - a red Moleskine 18-month planner with notepad (ok so they asked me what I wanted), and we had Starbucks on a stormy night.  Over at the office, we had a thanksgiving party for last month's performance and had a joint celebration for all the July birthday girls.  People had a really, really, really good time and everyone said it did not feel like an "office party" at all.  I had to drive home so I had to watch what I drank.  Yeah, too bad!

Yesterday was one for the books, my books, for it started with an afternoon party at Manila Ocean Park's Fuzion restaurant for Baby Juan's first birthday bash, and I was with my grade school friends.  Then I went to Chocolate Kiss cafe in Roces Ave. to send off the woman who invited me to Lingkod, Alett Nunez, who is leaving to study abroad on a generous scholarship.  Because of Alett, brothers and sisters I had not seen in a long time had wonderful dinner together and shared stories of our colorful life as the early Lingkod QC members and servants.  With the exception of a few people who had previous engagements, gathered that night were my closest friends in Lingkod.  To cap the night, I had to follow at a small gathering with my friends from the parish, where we drank wine and ate Santi's ham, while watching concerts on DVD.  

I got home late but had to wake up early to serve at mass, where I felt so much gratitude, peace, and joy (see my other blog for my post about Today's Readings).  Then I had buffet lunch at Italianni's with my family.  It was a wonderful birthday week and I could not ask for more.  God knows me.  God loves me.  God owns me!  And I think I could say that today, I'm happy.

P.S.  Cuz, this is one happy post, and I remembered your greeting as I typed tonight.  Hope you visit this blog and get to read this, too.

Proud Tita

Quick email - my sister-in-law has uploaded the video of the latest piano recital of my two handsome and brilliant nephews.

Visit http://luigimiko.digitalres.com to see that I'm not exaggerating.

Tess, this is really, really Miko! And Luigi! I can't even play these pieces.

My Father, the Techie

I never thought I'd hear him say it, but this morning I overheard a conversation between my brother and my father. I did not catch what Kuya Ric said, but Papa replied, "Ginu-google ko" (I Google it).

I said, "Papa, what did you say?"

He said (in Tagalog), "I Google my favorite newspapers and magazines. When I was in the US last month, I stayed updated with Philippine news through Google. I also read the New Yorker regularly."

I was on my way to the driveway so I was not able to pursue the conversation but I congratulated him for being so hi-tech.

When I arrived at the office, I saw him online on Yahoo Messenger. I told him to keep the Magic Jack open as my sister from Australia will call him in a while. Yes, we chatted.

Actually the miracle started the day he left for the States, the first time to travel such a distance by himself in all of his 72 years. Mama and I instructed him to call us as soon as he's checked in. We dropped him off at the airport and got stuck in traffic. We had not even left EDSA when Mama's cellphone rang - it was Papa, calling from his clamshell - type, hand-me-down, Motorola, laughingly telling Mama that he was already in his proper gate and ready to wait for boarding. We heaved a collective sigh of relief.

Of course, when he got to the San Francisco airport, he had trouble finding a porter to help him with his luggage, and got my uncle, sister, and cousins worried because he was the last one to emerge from the arrival door. He did not want to learn how to send text messages and calling from his roaming phone was too expensive so he just made them wait for an hour while he figured out how to get his luggage.

While on vacation, he also learned to work the digital camera and became a budding photographer. He documented my cousin's wedding and all the beautiful places he visited.

I hope that he'd soon learn how to text. Maybe I'll ask him to Google a tutorial.

Balut Factor

I am Filipino and I eat balut.

A balut is a fertilized duck egg with a nearly-developed embryo inside that is boiled and eaten in the shell. It is considered a delicacy in the Philippines and other parts of Asia.

The sight, taste and texture of the embryo could be a challenge to foreigners who do not always take a liking to this Filipino street food that was recently featured on two American shows, Survivor: Palau and Fear Factor, where the contestants were made to eat balut.

I once attended a party in Arizona where a Filipina told her American boyfriend, "If you love me, you will eat this." The poor fellow did as he was told - he knocked the egg on the table, cracked it open, put a pinch of salt inside the small opening, slurped the juice until it dripped off his chin, and ate the entire contents of the shell, with his eyes shut and his shoulders crunched. We Filipinos cheered him on and gave him San Miguel beer as his prize.

A month ago, an Australian friend attended a party where my aunt served balut. He told me that he had tried the delicacy before and he was willing to eat it again. I dutifully plucked a warm balut from the buffet spread and handed it to him. He survived the juice-slurping part; at the mere sight of the duck embryo, however, his face turned absolutely red and he said he had never seen anything like that in his life. He could not finish the balut and apologized profusely for it. I think he was too polite to admit it, but he obviously looked grossed out. Maybe it was penoy that he ate before, which was just boiled duck egg and was nothing like the real thing. Everyone around him was eating balut during that particular party.

Last Sunday, I met two French mathematicians. After a hearty lunch, we gathered for drinks at the tree house that my tito built. They appeared to be an adventurous couple and my family encouraged them to try the balut. We warned them that it could be an unpleasant experience and assured them that we would not be offended if they backed out from the challenge. Our guests gamely watched my brother's balut-eating demonstration and then followed our directions. We clapped as they both finished one balut each. I fetched ice-cold San Mig Light for them to wash it down with.

I have to admit that I'm not a 100% balut-lover. I don't eat the baby chick. I can't. I usually give it to someone or throw it away. I don't tell it to the ones I challenge, however, to inspire them to go for it all the way.

Circles and Bohol

My balikbayan Tito and Tita from L.A. treated our family to a sumptuous meal at Circles Event Cafe in Shangri-la Makati a couple of weeks ago. We ran out of tummy space in no time for there were simply too many dishes to choose from.

There was something for everybody - grandparents to grandchildren had a grand time walking up and down the buffet spread and picking out their favorites. I had to remind myself that summer was fast approaching and I was on a diet. The few pounds I lost since the new year could have easily been regained had I given in to the various dessert choices. The panna cotta was perfect. Luigi, my 9-year old nephew, said the steak was "very good". Miko, the 7-year-old, got disappointed because the chocolate from the fountain was made from dark and bitter chocolate, which the grownups favored. My parents and I talked about that meal for days afterwards. We definitely want to come back when other balikbayan relatives arrive.



The next highlight of my aunt and uncle's visit was a trip to Bohol and Cebu. We made last-minute reservations through Travel Village of Tagbilaran for an overnight stay at the Bohol Beach Club and a city tour. In this photo, we posed at the real site of the historical blood compact. We had the best tour guide, Grace, who also was trained to take pictures for her guests.
This was taken inside one of the oldest stone churches in the Philippines, Baclayon Church. Beside the church is a small museum where artifacts from the 16th century were on display.


I first saw Panglao Island ten years ago and I fell in love with its serenity and beauty. I was with my fellow law students then on a limited budget and they had to pry me away from the hammock for us to make it in time for our ferry back to Cebu. I was therefore very thankful to be back in Panglao. I did not wait to put my purse down, I strolled immediately on the beach after breakfast. I even woke up early enough to catch a sunrise. My mom knew it was a special occasion then, for I'm a night owl. I had my prayer time on the beach. Fantastic!



The words "inviting pool" took on a real meaning for me when I saw one of the three swimming pools at the resort. I virtually had the pool all to myself and I was free to do laps. My tita just swam short distances, and the rest of our group just watched us on the water. It was a very refreshing swim for me.

Our last stop before the ferry back to Cebu was the famous Bohol Bee Farm. We did not have space for the smorgasboard and just relied on the owner Vicky's picks for our lunch. Must-try are her pates and breads. We also loved the salad made of greens and indigenous flowers. There were various products made of honey to buy for pasalubong and good-quality handbags at reasonable prices.

I definitely want to go back to Bohol, specifically Loboc River for the cruise, and Panglao Island. It was a stress-free holiday too as we were on package tour. You may email Travel Village for inquiries and reservations at tvillage@globelines.com.ph. Tell Leslie, my friend from Lingkod-Tagbilaran, that Ella referred you. She knows I will blog about them. That's what I told her after she gave me a tub of the best ube I've ever tasted, proudly Boholano-made, reportedly the one used for Magnolia's Ube Royale.

I think I could get into this travel writing business. Wait for that on another website, coming soon. ;)