A January Event In My Town

Our town observes and celebrates the feast of the Sto. Niño every last Sunday of January, two weeks after Cebu City's Sinulog Festival. We have a similar yet smaller festivity - a Sinulog parade and streetdancing which culminate in a showdown and contest. The participants just come from within the town. Hopefully, next year we will allow entrants from adjacent towns to make the occasion grander than usual. The observance of this festivity here started way back in the 80s with the encouragement of the parish priest who hailed from Aklan and assigned here that time .

In the past years, I used to join in the parade of dancers. I was with this group that usually takes the lead in the parade and later on presents a Sinulog dance for an opening number. This year I opted to simply take the side of the street to just take photos/videos. My sedentary lifestyle made me become unfit for vigorous motion already, especially during the time when the sun is at its brightest over my head and I am to dance for a mile. Well, for brevity's sake, I am getting old, that's it, haha!

Anyway, I am better enjoying the festivity this way as a photographer with no name. I no longer took photos during the contest at the plaza. Following the parade was more than enough to tire the old witch, haha! So, just to share you a few framed moments I captured during the event.

Inside our church

Just before the parade started.

Dancing the Sinulog...

as the parade moved on,

...praying, supplicating...

The photographer photographed, ",)

A Different Kind of Breed?

There is far more truth than what is illustrated in the image.

The recent study conducted by the University of the Philippines Population Institute (UPPI) on lifestyle and reproductive health of young professionals revealed that some call center agents in Manila and Cebu face more health risks than other young professionals in other industries. This further unveiled a quite alarming reality that call center agents are highly at risk of contracting HIV and other sexual diseases.

I have heard about the promiscuous practices of some call center agents for a while now: unprotected sex, just-to-get-laid sex with pal, commercial sex, premarital sex, sex with multiple partners, same-sex sex. But these were all hearsay versions. Now, the fact is made public officially with the survey results.

Last year the brutal killing of a woman call center agent made to the front page of a local daily. The gruesome act was sex and drugs related - a warning that this reckless lifestyle can get extreme.

Most call center agents work the graveyard shift, and the nature of their work exposes them to more health risk as they are prone to unhealthy practices, from smoking to consumption of alcohol, and the taking of illegal drugs. They have unhealthy food choices and irregular sleeping/eating habits. But what is so disturbing is their promiscuous lifestyle. Why is this so?

Living a healthy lifestyle is key and that of course involves making healthy choices which means most importantly that one should not conduct oneself with “risky behavior”. But the study showed that risky sexual practices have a higher prevalence among call center agents.

If this is due to the nature of their work, is this a way of coping with a stressful working environment with sex as a kind of relief? The work environment may have probably encouraged the promiscuous behavior. But if this is so, then what breed of workers are the call centers producing?

But these behaviors are rife nowadays among teens and young adults and I do not think it is the mere lack of HIV awareness that keeps them reckless in that part. The dearth of decently and rightly principled values could be more an explanation.

How can we possibly correct this trend to have a better and healthier picture of our modern society?

Enlighten my ruffled mindset, I was born yesterday, you know.

Hope In The Flowers

There is always hope in the flowers. So I am trying to grow them in my small yard. Any kind. Randomly. The yard undergoes clearing. Weeds are uprooted and replaced with leafy and flowering ornamental though a few wilds are “imported” from the nearby wilderness, and “adopted” because I got attracted to their natural beauty. The yard is leveled and made to texture perfectly for its re-invention. Seeds and cuttings are simply covered carefully with ground and some are in bags. There is no landscape design in mind, just the thought of growing flowers. And they are perseveringly watered each day. (It’s hallelujah if it rains!)

My daily watering, tending, waiting, hoping, looking forward to the grand blossoming are indicative of the patience and perseverance that I have easily assimilated into this new passion. It proved to be therapeutic to my usual famished point of view. My yard spelled o-p-t-i-m-i-s-m around it and I found myself to be an avid student paying attention to the insights in the way nature is teaching me. Me, being a novice gardener.

Meanwhile, the weeds, naturally pertinacious as they are, keep on coming back at the first trickle of a shower, be it from my water hose or rain.

A weed defined: an unwanted plant, especially a wild plant, growing where it is not wanted.

The weeds’ insistence made me ponder on this thought: When does a weed become a weed? Only when it becomes unwanted. And they became so because I have come to cultivate the ground. Originally, the ground was their natural habitat, nature put them there. I am invading their territory in the first place. It is me, not nature, that made them unwanted. Thus, amazingly they have nature’s blessing of perpetual survival. I am only capable of controlling their growth.

I like my yard to be an allegory of my life at the moment. It makes me think that as one invents his life here in this world, unavoidably he has to come into some facets of reality. Life without problems is very un-real. Exactly. Problems are part of living-just like the weeds in my garden. Living is invading a problematic life. The subject is always solving problems. But that does not mean you are supposed to be unhappy because it is so. Control the weeds, invent a garden.

Right now I see a promise here and there. A bud. A sprout. Although appearing like having just recovered from a long drought, but the yard’s re-invention is slowly emerging. My personal life is going through the same I guess. And that is how I am getting by in these trying times.

Living the Seasons

I am born in the tropics and possibly will be stuck here for life. Therefore, with that, I am fated to be denied of the actual sight and feel of snow for my entire life, haha...

My life the whole year round is confined within this warm-to-hot orientation although there is the cold, wet breaker on occasions when the weather gets moody. For the sake of my plants, the rain is always welcome but even then rainy days can be a joy killer, still.

There is no choice but to live with it although getting used to it is a love-hate kind of thing. Sure, the picture of summer paints inspiration for fun and energy but having it in endless repetition can bring in some kind of fatigue.

Life can go excruciatingly slow.

Life can become as trite as the expression "same as usual".

Life can only bring stormy surprises. ",)

I always wonder how it is to live in cold countries like in Canada or those in the Nordic region. Like, how is it with the seasons taking quarter turns -

buds and sprouts in spring,

blue cloudless skies in summer,

crimson- colored leaves in autumn ,

frosty leafless twigs in winter.

Well, I can only fancy that in a dream. But one guy is so creative to help me experience the changing of seasons far more realistic than a dream. And the treat only went on for just a minute and a half, haha...

The change of landscape is magical. I wonder. If I had lived in this place, will the conceptualizing of my human experience be any different? Try watching this video by Eirik Solheim.

And share me your impressions of the changing of seasons,

in prose or poetry, hehe...

Petty Wonders

Image Source
I have a short compilation of WHYS forwarded to me by friends via email and text messages. Here they are:

1. Why does the sun lighten our hair but darken our skin?
2. Why can't women put on their mascara with their mouth closed?
3. Why don't we ever see the headline "Psychic Wins Lottery"?
4. Why is 'abbreviated' such a long word?
5. Why is it that doctors call what they do 'practice'?
6. Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavor and dishwashing liquid made with real lemons?
7. Why is the man who invests all your money is called a broker?
8. Why is the time of day with the slowest traffic called rush hour?
9. Why do they sterilize the needle for lethal injections?
10. You know that indestructible black box that is used in airplanes? Why don't they make the whole plane out of that stuff?
11. Why are they called apartments when they are all stuck together?
12. If con is the opposite of pro, is Congress the opposite of progress?
13. If flying is so safe, then why is the airport called the terminal?
14. If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have branches?
15. Why does a round pizza come in a square box?
16. Why doesn't glue stick to its bottle?
17. Why do you still call it building when it is already built?
18. If you aren't suppose to drink and drive, why do bars have parking lots?
19. If it is true that we are here to help others, what are others here for?
20. Why is dyslexic such a hard word to spell?

Hmmm...smartly funny and worth my time of wonder. ",)
From this collection my favorites are nos. 12 and 19. The two questions 'Made Me Think'

A follow up question: Every wonder why only those two questions made Joji think? ",)

How about you, what 'why' is the most boggling to you? It may not be there in my list. Maybe you would like to share.

Who Is Your Role Model?

Let's find out.



WHO TRULY IS YOUR ROLE MODEL?


DON'T SCROLL DOWN YET. DO THE SIMPLE MATH BELOW, THEN SCROLL DOWN TO FIND YOUR HERO.

It's CRAZY how accurate this is. No peeking. Have Fun.

1) Pick your favorite number between 1-9.
2) Multiply by 3.
3) Add 3.
4) Then again multiply by 3 (I'll wait while you get the
calculator.. ...)
5) You'll get a 2- or 3-digit number.
6) Add the digits together.

Now scroll down.





With that number, see who your ROLE MODEL is from the list below.

(Actually, this is another fun email that brought a smile on my face. Makes me think of of passing it around to spread the day's tiny trickle of tickle to everyone. Enjoy!)

Now check the list:

1. Albert Einstein
2. Oprah Winfrey
3. Barrack Obama
4. Bill Clinton
5. Bill Gates
6. Isaac Newton
7. Benigno Aquino
8. Mother Theresa
9. Joji
10. Ronald Reagan

Ha, ha. I know, I know....I just have that effect on people. One day, you, too, can be like me. Why are you laughing?

Stop picking different numbers. I AM YOUR IDOL ... JUST DEAL WITH IT.

A Tale of Two Babies

Sure, these two babies will make for a perfect couple.

She is a good talker...



And he is a good listener. Well,...er, unless you are such a bore - he gets to sleep quite easily though, lol

The Copycat Vs. The Original

Motherhood is an experience that is mutually knowledge-enriching, I realized. It’s a two-way street. And the insightful revelations would come with a gift of surprise.

My unico hijo will be my one and only experience of motherhood and I wanted to cherish the memories of it. Both of us are showing effort to make this mother-son relationship the best bond of friendship possible, which makes this whole episode worth the memoirs, hehe.

So we play both mentor and tormentor at the same time and every day we exchange “I love you” and “Sorry” not just once but over and over that it would seem spontaneous as breathing. Our daily fill of interaction is loaded with these activities: either son or mother insists, or yields, compromises, and wage battle of wits.

In one of our daily routine of interaction, I was this telling him to finish all his food on the plate and then I went blah, blah, about the importance of giving value to what we have and that if he continues to disregard a thing’s worth like wasting food, wrecking toys, then he will be jinxed in life.

“Son, if you will continue to do that, you will be a buwisit in your life.” I admonished him.

Ugh, don’t I lack originality? Obviously, this stern statement is a copycat of my parents’, and grandparents’. You know, the authors of guilt complexes of old, haha…and I am their convert, don’t blame me.

The word buwisit means jinx or hoodwink in our language. In my country where a variety of dialects abound, provincialism resulted to varying pronunciations of the word, like in other regions this word is pronounced as bwe-sit but here where I am, we say boy-sit. Well, I did not pay attention to this petty observation in particular, not until my son opened my mind to notice it.

You see, after my preachy teach, my son threw me this question, “When you were my age, did you ever behave the same way?”

“Of course, I did and my mom corrected me too.” My quick answer.

“So, what did she call you?”

Son looking with those raised brows as usual.

“Girlsit? Or ladysit?”

Got no quick answer for that, I tell you. But after having recovered from my “agape” break, I exclaimed, “OMG! Son, you’re original!” Hahaha!

My son at 4 years

Wordsmith!*

*Nothing. Just for the sake of needless assonance, haha…

Happy New Year!

Did you not wonder why despite life's many attempts to upset us we never ran out of reasons to smile? Have you not noticed that these reasons seem to flow continuously and inundate that because we cannot contain it anymore we just have to spill a big, big smile on our faces or even burst into laughter? And one reason to smile is: Friends

Thank you friends, my fellow travellers in this earthly journey. I am having a more colorful experience with your presence. Adieu, 2009 and the entire past. I will miss those happy hours. The unhappy ones were only there to help me wisen up, I know. I am still thankful for those as well.

May we all get the best shape to weather the coming years' challenges. Let's start it right by welcoming 2010 with a hearty smile.

Smile! Spill it on....

Happy New Year!

Today Is My Birthday

Come on, greet me. Hehe...

I am all ears.

Louder, please. Can't hear ya.

Oh, there you are,





"Happy Birthday to me!"

",)

The Santa Myth and My Other Lies

My son is a believer of Santa Claus and that’s because I told him so. Now that he is already nine years old, I tried to explain to him what exactly is this Santa thing about--- and why. However, his childlike innocence still refuses to let go of the idea of this bearded, fat guy in a red suit with a loud Ho! Ho! Ho!

…and his reindeers.

…and his gifts, etc.

As I attempted to un-truth the facts to my son, his rebuttal was, “ So you are a liar!”

Image by VintageHolidayCrafts.com

Sensing the seriousness of that statement I backed off or I will get to acquaint him with disappointment and betrayal for the first time mistakenly. Left with no choice, I did not further on but simply digressed and acceded to the fancy truth that has come to settle in his yet unspoiled and unsuspecting mind.

But I did try telling him that the Santa story is all about God’s love and generosity and that I and his father are actually the same representations of what Santa embodied. But his impressions about Santa refuses to grow yet, which I let it be because I know how fleeting the spell of one’s childhood innocence is. I want him to enjoy it while it still lingers. Thus, I simply didn’t press on. I thought, not yet this soon because apparently my son is not yet ready.

Innocently yours

In my early years, my childhood innocence worked for some time to me as a buffer defending me from realizing lies from truth and truth from lies. At that point in my life too, there was very little room for fear and doubt. It was mostly all about knowing and trusting. That kind of imperfection happen to upend later in life as I trod into adulthood tripping and turning over many awakenings and discoveries, and thus my world evolved into a more perfect place for me to make blind pursuits that rewarded me enlightening mistakes enabling me to realize more what is exactly going on with my existing and co-existing, and therefore benefiting my migrant soul from the entire human experience while in this worldly journey . But this is to be told in a different chapter so let us forget about it. “,)

I happen to be the eldest among three siblings but I am the latest to realize who Santa really is. My two kid sisters were too clever to be able to unearth the truth by discovering inside the coffer the goodies our parents hid for fillings in our stockings. I happen to be too naïve to catch up on that trick and that was because I clung longer to my childish world. My son’s childhood innocence is just that exactly.

True Lies

I realized how I lied again and again to my son without minding its harm. Silly, for an adult like me to resort to circumventing the truth thinking it as a handier approach to appease a probing, inquisitive young mind. How often have we underestimated a child’s discerning and insightful wisdom? Oftentimes we adults are caught off guard. My brain has been trained likewise by my adults before and so fatefully, it activated by its default setting. I ended up repeating the same pattern of lies.

Sadly.

And so it came to pass… “,)

My Schoolboy and the PSP

My son is sent to a private school for the reason that we do not want to sacrifice quality for economy. We are spending more of course but anyway, we wanted to provide him the better option being our unico hijo. Public schools usually have crowded classrooms making it less conducive for him to learn especially that he needs a well supervised classroom environment because his focus is a bit challenged. The lack of teachers too in public schools has compromised the quality of education.

In the school where my son attended, most children come from established middle class families whose parents have considerable family earnings and so these kids are able to enjoy and indulge in a few extra treats or comforts. My son knows everyone in his school who owns either a game boy or the Sony PSP. Naturally, this makes him hanker to get one but I tried to explain to him that our economic profile at the moment cannot prioritize it. I told him also that it is not an important thing to need as a schooler. You see, we belong to the struggling middle class. ",)

Deep inside I know how frustrating it was for my son to be so “outcast” in that aspect. But he tried to understand. Then he would often tell me that after classes his friends would get to play with their devices. He even begged me to tell his friends to have him borrow their PSP for a while. I explained to him how inappropriate it is for him to insist.

On a few occasions in school I had chanced upon him trying to join cramping with the rest of his friends who were in a huddle over the one playing the PSP or game boy and usually my son is the more eager kid to get a peek at the thing and I would notice that his friends would get annoyed at his insistence. His friends at times gave him the unwelcome treatment but my son’s innocence made him ignore the feel it intended to convey and it didn’t bother him at all except to resort to asking me to tell his friends to let him try at their game devices thinking that a mother’s intervention was sure to work. There are other kinder classmates of his though that would let him play for a while. But we know that kids harbor that natural selfishness, albeit endearingly and delightfully that parents succumb to their overtures. They like to have and to own and that kind of selfishness was also in the heart of my son.

I tried to make him patient. But deep inside I pity him and thought that maybe I should get him his own PSP even nagging myself this thought that it is me who refused to blend with the “now”. I understand that my son is trying to relate to his environment of which I have no control anymore and I seem to teach him how it is to get frustrated and to feel agony. Well, there can be some lessons of fortitude in that but on the flip side there is still a “but” to it. Still I did not give in. But one day, he broke this news to me.

“Mama, they told me that my friend’s PSP was lost and they told me I stole it. They even rummage my school bag.”

Of course, my son did not steal it, nor was the thing lost. His naughty friends hid the thing and try to fool him to tease him knowing how desirous he was to see, touch and play the PSP. I don’t know, I guess I overreacted. I cried a bit although I didn’t show it to my son. It was some mixed emotion of anger and pity. I guess it was my pride that got hurt, feeling that my son was in some way bullied and belittled in that way. At the very least, that was my on-the-spot feeling and it didn’t matter if I wasn’t right or unreasonable or ludicrous.

Right away I told him, “I will get you one, Son. I will try to find a way to get you one.”

Since I have told him we have no money for a PSP, I told him that I would contact an old friend in the US. “I will call your Auntie Ardie and I will request her to ask from President Bush (that time) a PSP because I have no money to buy it”. Another imbecilic lie. ",)

But the timing was perfect. During that time the daughter of this (another) friend of mine was due to arrive from the US in the following week and my friend told me that she can ask her daughter to get me a PSP for a lesser price and sell it to me on installment basis with a minimal mark up. At that very moment, I was not keen on buying the thing in cash so I wasn’t contemplating going to the mall/store for that, although later on I regretted for having committed again another one of such dumb and stupid, impetuous, preposterous sort of decisions, resulting to what I thought was a “smart bargain” to be a “moronic procurement” ",)

Anyway, to make the story short, my son was able to get a PSP finally because of that incident.

Little Big Imaginations

My son loves to draw. He loves to draw huge things. Mega contruction equipments like the Terex Titan, Godzilla-sized dinosaurs and other creatures like the Megalodon. He loves to draw the biggest ships like the Jahre Viking tanker; and the Transformers, etc. He is fascinated about stories like giant stars and planets, and the Bermuda Triangle, and other intriguing things. He has searched for all these in youTube, his favorite site.

The other week he told me about his wish list for Santa. I told him that Santa might not be coming to our house this Christmas and that his Papa and Mama will just do Santa’s job instead. I told him that he will get only whatever we can afford and not exactly all that’s on the list. I tried to observe his reaction to my statement. This time I was more confident with my way of unfolding the truth. Unfurl it in layers. Yes, unwrap it slowly and hopefully provide an easy segue to the full Santa reality. But it didn’t work. My son insisted to write to Santa his list and one of it is the Demolishor.

“Where in the world did you find that thing?” I asked.

“I saw it in youTube” He told me.

“But I guess Santa’s factory do not have that one, I’d better check his factory”, I said.

And so I opened Amazon. com and told him that it is Santa’s toy factory. Stupid lying adult, ugh!

Indeed there it was! “See? I told you!”, my son said gleefully.

Somehow, I still found a way to a valid excuse. I discovered that the item cannot be shipped to our address (country). I let him read the advice in the site and said, “See? I told you too that Santa cannot come to our home this Christmas to bring this gift to you.”

But he found the idea unacceptable and irreconcilable because of reindeers that can fly around the world in a blink. And why is it that Santa is singling him out? The second hypothesis in question was weighty and crucial.

On second thought, he gave Santa some consideration to the supposed travel quandary but it only gave me a brief relief because he proposed something that toppled over my jar of reserved lies and brought me at the losing end in the battle of wits.

He then said to me. “Well, if that is so, then you might as well call Auntie Ardie again just like last time with my PSP?" Oh-ugh, the price of lying!

Not wanting to let down my son’s faith that a mother’s intervention will work better, I feel the pressure to find a solution. But either I will stick to my Auntie Ardie gimmick and hope to find some last minute way out, or just tell him now the truths flatly. But right now I am thinking of truly asking Auntie Ardie or some other friend or relative in the US to secure me the Demolishor because the toy can be shipped to their address and they can just forward it to my address afterwards. I can lie again of Santa's delivery delay. “.) But I am still undecided as I don’t really feel comfortable asking.

Ah, the efficacy of my lies has already been minified. Maybe I should just tell him that it is time to grow up and forget about Santa’s gifts. But no, his feelings could certainly get hurt, I know. My son is eagerly looking for Santa and his gift this Christmas Eve and is trying to be good and nice. ",)

Oh, the make believe and the lies - mythical or methodical, and the story of one mother’s love for her only son. “,)