A few hours ago, I finally sent Kathy Black of Vermont Studio Center my sorrowful e-mail informing her that I could not make it to the scheduled residency due to my present family problem.
She answered, feeling sorry for my predicament, and assured me that in case things are looking up, they will still be keeping my files for a year and that I can still apply for the next residencies.
That was reassuring, but it still breaks my heart.
I lulled myself to sleep, finally, a lonely tear trickled down as I dosed off.
Showing posts with label My Angst. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Angst. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
A Friend in Need
Believe it or not, I only realized lately the real meaning of the saying, "A friend in need is a friend indeed." I thought all along that the friend in the saying is a friend who needs help that's why he's being a friend indeed, until I got to test the saying on a long-time friend in my time of need.
To my dismay, she refused to take my side. She just wanted to be on the safe side, the neutral side. Some friend. Friends are supposed to take definite sides -- to stick with you 'til the end or be devil's advocate.
Oh, well, I've been letting go of a lot of excess baggages lately. I'm letting go of a husband, a mother, and now a friend.
"Let it go, let it roll right off your shoulders,
Don't you know, the hardest part is over,
Let it in, let your clarity define you,
In the end, we will only just remember how it feels."
So goes the Rob Thomas soundtrack for the movie Little Wonders. The first time I heard the song, the first three words hit me hard. I have a lot of letting go to do.
Yeah, these twists and turns of fate. My own mother jeering instead of cheering at the sidelights as if everything that's happening to me now is final and over for me. I feel like a lame matador cornered by a raging bull, with no one to turn to for help.
But there are friends turning up in the most unexpected places. These are the friends in my time of need. These are real family. Friends indeed.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Indecent Display!!!
Hotels, motels, they are all venues for an increasingly-going-public thing: sex!
There is a public holler about an alleged motel being built near a public elementary school. As motels are easily equated to sex -- illicit sex, hotels have a more decent image.
So that, years ago when a standard class hotel sprouted just beside the school where my daughter attends, nobody complained (Sure the bar right next to it is a one of the hottest spots at night where teenagers and yuppies go to, have fun and vomit at the opposite fence bordering the school premises).
But then, what's this?! My daughter tells me that her classmates have seen a man and a woman engaged in sexual acts seen from the window of their second floor hotel room. It was daytime, of course, school hours in fact. One of the girls even described the couple doing the "bouncy bouncy"!
Perverse thoughts flooded my mind -- are these couple encouraging voyeurism to these schoolchildren?
The hotel windows are lightly tinted, but still the children saw what they saw, probably pumping silhouettes bathed in warm light. With what mass media is teaching our kids these days, they can just easily fill in the blanks! They saw a couple having sex through the second floor window of the hotel.
What were they thinking? My daughter tells me her friends were imagining a highly paid prostitute. A dirty old man who can afford a standard class hotel. Even if they were legitimate couples, what the school children saw already stamped an unforgettable scenario in their young minds.
Perhaps, it is not the fault of the hotel that things such as this would happen. But now I realized that there are couples that would take their perversions to the streets if given the chance. What a different kind of high those two might have had when they knowingly displayed their acts, knowingly or unkowingly to the shocked children. After all, the Philippines is still a largely modest society.
One of the teachers at my child's school explained that since they could not do anything against the hotel which most probably also had no idea what was happening within the window frame (and the world is full of such things), they are focusing on teaching their students how to deal with situations such as this. Just like a television, switch off, change channel.
As a parent of the child who only had secondhand information of what transpired, her imagination just as fueled by the "bouncy bouncy" description, what I can do is present things to her matter-of-factly, discuss another aspect of sex education, i.e., sexual perversion.
With this, I always remind my daughter to renew her mind. With all the sex, violence and other explicit content she has and will encounter on TV, radio, music, magazines, the internet, and other mass media, I constantly tell her to increase her power of discernment, to know the good from the bad, to learn from them both, to choose good and to overcome evil. For the real battle is not of this world.
It's all in the mind.
“Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2)
There is a public holler about an alleged motel being built near a public elementary school. As motels are easily equated to sex -- illicit sex, hotels have a more decent image.
So that, years ago when a standard class hotel sprouted just beside the school where my daughter attends, nobody complained (Sure the bar right next to it is a one of the hottest spots at night where teenagers and yuppies go to, have fun and vomit at the opposite fence bordering the school premises).
But then, what's this?! My daughter tells me that her classmates have seen a man and a woman engaged in sexual acts seen from the window of their second floor hotel room. It was daytime, of course, school hours in fact. One of the girls even described the couple doing the "bouncy bouncy"!
Perverse thoughts flooded my mind -- are these couple encouraging voyeurism to these schoolchildren?
The hotel windows are lightly tinted, but still the children saw what they saw, probably pumping silhouettes bathed in warm light. With what mass media is teaching our kids these days, they can just easily fill in the blanks! They saw a couple having sex through the second floor window of the hotel.
What were they thinking? My daughter tells me her friends were imagining a highly paid prostitute. A dirty old man who can afford a standard class hotel. Even if they were legitimate couples, what the school children saw already stamped an unforgettable scenario in their young minds.
Perhaps, it is not the fault of the hotel that things such as this would happen. But now I realized that there are couples that would take their perversions to the streets if given the chance. What a different kind of high those two might have had when they knowingly displayed their acts, knowingly or unkowingly to the shocked children. After all, the Philippines is still a largely modest society.
One of the teachers at my child's school explained that since they could not do anything against the hotel which most probably also had no idea what was happening within the window frame (and the world is full of such things), they are focusing on teaching their students how to deal with situations such as this. Just like a television, switch off, change channel.
As a parent of the child who only had secondhand information of what transpired, her imagination just as fueled by the "bouncy bouncy" description, what I can do is present things to her matter-of-factly, discuss another aspect of sex education, i.e., sexual perversion.
With this, I always remind my daughter to renew her mind. With all the sex, violence and other explicit content she has and will encounter on TV, radio, music, magazines, the internet, and other mass media, I constantly tell her to increase her power of discernment, to know the good from the bad, to learn from them both, to choose good and to overcome evil. For the real battle is not of this world.
It's all in the mind.
“Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2)
Won in Damage Suit, Now What?
For several days I refuse to write about it. It's not something worth celebrating. I won. But still, the damage has been done. Society's ideal family: father, mother, child, crumbled before my very eyes, my own mother seemingly cheering that finally I failed, my father trying to fill in the missing manly pillar while constantly watching his back for fear of his wife's volcanic fury.
I have finally come to terms that a dysfunctional family could also be a family complete with a father and a mother but behaving dysfunctionally. I grew up in that environment.
Now, with the flight of my wayward husband (dropped from the police rolls, a warrant for his arrest already out, but two people reported having seen him riding his borrowed motorcycle {his driver's license long expired in 2006 by the way} just over the weekend), my daughter has to contend with living in an all female environment with me as what I call the lamp post (taking up the dual role as pillar and light), and the three sisters I have welcomed into our home to keep us company and for them to get a well-deserved education and better their lives. I try to keep our new family set up as functional as possible. But will it really?
For the sake of practicality, I have set aside my romantic ideas of family and love. Right now with new hardships and challenges coming my way, I need all the provisions for this lonely battle backed only by my little army.
I can't help but be reminded of Max Ehrmann's Desiderata:
"Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit."
The story of the three sisters (of seven siblings) are even far more bitter than mine, a simple and at the same time complex situation than mine. I am avoiding my mother who has been more of a vexation to my spirit than the refreshment I truly long for.
"If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time."
I have always been and still compared by my mother, to herself, to my brothers, to my friends, to other people. I used to resent the fact that I'm not as good, not as beautiful, not as smart, not as rich, as the people my mother would compare me against, but I have come to terms of the reality that I am probably the most average person with an average life with average problems and average achievements. Still, I am happy in my corner of the world. Away from my mother who lives just a few blocks away. I enjoy just doing my art, doing my own thing, and blogging.
"Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth."
This piece of advice makes me a bit scared, but as long as I am true to myself, love awaits.
"Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
I'm a natural worrier, which can be stressful. I'm also a natural free spirit. The first time a portion of the Desiderata was recited to me was when I was a little girl being comforted by my father. He assured me that I am a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. What could be more encouraging than a father's words. My only regret is that I don't think my husband, in the situation he has chosen himself to be, could ever say such words to his daughter the way my father soothed my soul.
"Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful."
"Strive to be happy."
I am.
“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
I have finally come to terms that a dysfunctional family could also be a family complete with a father and a mother but behaving dysfunctionally. I grew up in that environment.
Now, with the flight of my wayward husband (dropped from the police rolls, a warrant for his arrest already out, but two people reported having seen him riding his borrowed motorcycle {his driver's license long expired in 2006 by the way} just over the weekend), my daughter has to contend with living in an all female environment with me as what I call the lamp post (taking up the dual role as pillar and light), and the three sisters I have welcomed into our home to keep us company and for them to get a well-deserved education and better their lives. I try to keep our new family set up as functional as possible. But will it really?
For the sake of practicality, I have set aside my romantic ideas of family and love. Right now with new hardships and challenges coming my way, I need all the provisions for this lonely battle backed only by my little army.
I can't help but be reminded of Max Ehrmann's Desiderata:
"Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit."
The story of the three sisters (of seven siblings) are even far more bitter than mine, a simple and at the same time complex situation than mine. I am avoiding my mother who has been more of a vexation to my spirit than the refreshment I truly long for.
"If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time."
I have always been and still compared by my mother, to herself, to my brothers, to my friends, to other people. I used to resent the fact that I'm not as good, not as beautiful, not as smart, not as rich, as the people my mother would compare me against, but I have come to terms of the reality that I am probably the most average person with an average life with average problems and average achievements. Still, I am happy in my corner of the world. Away from my mother who lives just a few blocks away. I enjoy just doing my art, doing my own thing, and blogging.
"Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth."
This piece of advice makes me a bit scared, but as long as I am true to myself, love awaits.
"Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
I'm a natural worrier, which can be stressful. I'm also a natural free spirit. The first time a portion of the Desiderata was recited to me was when I was a little girl being comforted by my father. He assured me that I am a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. What could be more encouraging than a father's words. My only regret is that I don't think my husband, in the situation he has chosen himself to be, could ever say such words to his daughter the way my father soothed my soul.
"Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful."
I am. I agree.
"Strive to be happy."
I am.
“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
Monday, October 12, 2009
Streetchildren New Careers: Begging!
I sometimes see the modern mother-and-child scene as a mother carrying a child, sometimes not her own, in order to be her prop for begging alms.
More likely, this child will grow up roaming the streets as his mother adopts another sizeable baby to carry for the more appealing mother-and-child look, while the toddler learns how to walk while avoiding street traffic with older street kids.
These street children then become mentors of their younger counterparts in the profession of begging for alms. Over the years, they have grown in numbers and have become more aggressive in their approaches, even to the point of asking the food you are munching off your hands. And then if you take pity upon the hungry child and give him what you are eating, five or six other kids from a distance suddenly flock around you asking for their supper, too.
I have taken into my home three sisters who used to be just like these children, begging in the streets while their mother is away, her return uncertain while their younger siblings go through a ritual of hunger their elder siblings have grown used to. While Joylyn takes care of the little ones left in their makeshift home beside the city river, Janice and Jo-an comb the streets for alms. They return home with P100 worth of milk for the two babies and just enough food for the five of them. Their father has long left them, his whereabouts unknown, and thus their mother decided for them to carry her surname instead.
One thing led to another until at tender ages of 12, 11, and 10, the three started working as house maids in various families, some of which were my relatives. When the youngest, Joylyn, turned 12, she worked for my mother as night companion and errand girl. But my mother was by nature a virago and at last Joylyn gave up being the butt of all my mother's anger. Joylyn sought refuge to me.
I accepted her not as a house maid, telling her a child her age should not be working yet. It's against Labor Laws. Joylyn became a part of my family of two (minus my wayward husband). I enrolled her at a nearby public school where she was accepted in Grade 2. Instead of a wage my mother used to give her, the same amount is her allowance which she could either spend for herself or send to her family. The latter is always the case.
When Jo-an, now 13, and Janice, now 14, suddenly lost their "jobs" at my two aunts' homes, they went home to the hacienda where they now live, far from the city streets they were used to, because their mother has a new boyfriend who lives in the said farm. My house being big enough to accommodate two more people, I told Joylyn that her two sisters could come live with us and attend school like she does.
Like what I did with Joylyn's school records, I requested the Graciano Lopez-Jaena Elementary School at La Paz, Iloilo City to transmit the girls' school records to Efigenio Enrica Lizares Memorial School in Talisay City, Negros Occidental. Now the elder sisters are in Grade 4 of their new school.
Being too old for their grade levels, I urged them to apply for an acceleration exam and, in all the school, only the three of them were accepted to take the PEPT exams scheduled on November 22, 2009. This will determine what grade or year level they shall be placed in accordance to their academic standing in the tests.
For now, they are doing fairly well in school, and Joylyn who used to be in Section 6 of Grade 2 is then moved to Section 2 and now to Section 1. The elder sisters are also the teachers' pets for their academic excellence and reliability.
Janice the caring one dreams of becoming a doctor or a nurse someday. Jo-an the dark and ahtletic one dreams of becoming a teacher who promises never to verbally malign her students no matter how stupid they are, unlike what her teacher is now doing to them. Joylyn the one with strong leadership qualities despite her being the youngest, dreams of becoming an actress. Not having matinee idol looks, we told her to hone her skills of being a comedienne and maybe she might just make it big in showbiz.
Having become a single mother all of a sudden with the unexplained withdrawal of my husband from his fatherly obligations, and then swamped by three more people in his place, my financial burdens are becoming heavier than I thought. Having used to only one daughter to take care of all her needs, I realized I would also to take care of the needs of three more girls, which means triple the rice, triple the water, triple the laundry, triple the electricity, triple the everything.
Perhaps this is giving my otherwise only daughter an idea of what it is like to have siblings, competitions in terms of food, attention, and achievements. I grew up in a family with three brothers. Growing up a single child must be a different experience, and the sudden addition to her world seemed at first too much to bear, but she is now adjusting to the situation.
Still, I am just happy to be able to bless people who are less privileged than myself. My misfortunes are still a fortune from their point of view. I am happy that, although I am not in the practice of giving alms to random street children thus encouraging mendicancy, that despite my own needs I am helping three needier children to earn an education for themselves, a shot at a bright future far better than just wandering the streets for a lifetime career of begging.
Indeed, the mother-and-child image has a new face. They don't have to be connected by blood or by umbilical cord. They just have to face life head on, together as a real mother would provide and protect for her own children, and as children would give their true mother her due respect and love.
Psalm 68:5 "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling."
More likely, this child will grow up roaming the streets as his mother adopts another sizeable baby to carry for the more appealing mother-and-child look, while the toddler learns how to walk while avoiding street traffic with older street kids.
These street children then become mentors of their younger counterparts in the profession of begging for alms. Over the years, they have grown in numbers and have become more aggressive in their approaches, even to the point of asking the food you are munching off your hands. And then if you take pity upon the hungry child and give him what you are eating, five or six other kids from a distance suddenly flock around you asking for their supper, too.
I have taken into my home three sisters who used to be just like these children, begging in the streets while their mother is away, her return uncertain while their younger siblings go through a ritual of hunger their elder siblings have grown used to. While Joylyn takes care of the little ones left in their makeshift home beside the city river, Janice and Jo-an comb the streets for alms. They return home with P100 worth of milk for the two babies and just enough food for the five of them. Their father has long left them, his whereabouts unknown, and thus their mother decided for them to carry her surname instead.
One thing led to another until at tender ages of 12, 11, and 10, the three started working as house maids in various families, some of which were my relatives. When the youngest, Joylyn, turned 12, she worked for my mother as night companion and errand girl. But my mother was by nature a virago and at last Joylyn gave up being the butt of all my mother's anger. Joylyn sought refuge to me.
I accepted her not as a house maid, telling her a child her age should not be working yet. It's against Labor Laws. Joylyn became a part of my family of two (minus my wayward husband). I enrolled her at a nearby public school where she was accepted in Grade 2. Instead of a wage my mother used to give her, the same amount is her allowance which she could either spend for herself or send to her family. The latter is always the case.
When Jo-an, now 13, and Janice, now 14, suddenly lost their "jobs" at my two aunts' homes, they went home to the hacienda where they now live, far from the city streets they were used to, because their mother has a new boyfriend who lives in the said farm. My house being big enough to accommodate two more people, I told Joylyn that her two sisters could come live with us and attend school like she does.
Like what I did with Joylyn's school records, I requested the Graciano Lopez-Jaena Elementary School at La Paz, Iloilo City to transmit the girls' school records to Efigenio Enrica Lizares Memorial School in Talisay City, Negros Occidental. Now the elder sisters are in Grade 4 of their new school.
Being too old for their grade levels, I urged them to apply for an acceleration exam and, in all the school, only the three of them were accepted to take the PEPT exams scheduled on November 22, 2009. This will determine what grade or year level they shall be placed in accordance to their academic standing in the tests.
For now, they are doing fairly well in school, and Joylyn who used to be in Section 6 of Grade 2 is then moved to Section 2 and now to Section 1. The elder sisters are also the teachers' pets for their academic excellence and reliability.
Janice the caring one dreams of becoming a doctor or a nurse someday. Jo-an the dark and ahtletic one dreams of becoming a teacher who promises never to verbally malign her students no matter how stupid they are, unlike what her teacher is now doing to them. Joylyn the one with strong leadership qualities despite her being the youngest, dreams of becoming an actress. Not having matinee idol looks, we told her to hone her skills of being a comedienne and maybe she might just make it big in showbiz.
Having become a single mother all of a sudden with the unexplained withdrawal of my husband from his fatherly obligations, and then swamped by three more people in his place, my financial burdens are becoming heavier than I thought. Having used to only one daughter to take care of all her needs, I realized I would also to take care of the needs of three more girls, which means triple the rice, triple the water, triple the laundry, triple the electricity, triple the everything.
Perhaps this is giving my otherwise only daughter an idea of what it is like to have siblings, competitions in terms of food, attention, and achievements. I grew up in a family with three brothers. Growing up a single child must be a different experience, and the sudden addition to her world seemed at first too much to bear, but she is now adjusting to the situation.
Still, I am just happy to be able to bless people who are less privileged than myself. My misfortunes are still a fortune from their point of view. I am happy that, although I am not in the practice of giving alms to random street children thus encouraging mendicancy, that despite my own needs I am helping three needier children to earn an education for themselves, a shot at a bright future far better than just wandering the streets for a lifetime career of begging.
Indeed, the mother-and-child image has a new face. They don't have to be connected by blood or by umbilical cord. They just have to face life head on, together as a real mother would provide and protect for her own children, and as children would give their true mother her due respect and love.
Psalm 68:5 "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling."
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Flood Fears
Ondoy. Pepeng. Flood. Flood in several cities!
God is cleaning house. So says a good friend of mine. To some extent, I agree with him, but I also believed in His promise never to destroy the earth again by water.
I am thankful that my personal calamities are bearable, only as much as I could carry. But I have had my own flood experience one fair, sunny afternoon in June 1, 2007 when it rained a gentle rain still with an afternoon sun. My daughter and her yaya decided to go out in the rain and were frolicking when suddenly a freak flood erupted from the clogged rain gutter of our house, filling up our ceiling in a matter of seconds and then the waters above started dropping through holes like mini waterfalls everywhere.
Then I thought: water conducts electricity. The computer was still on! I had to turn off everything and rushed to the main switch box. It seemed like an eternity trying to climb through a television set, stereo components until I got my hands on the levers, pulling them down as I heaved a great sigh of relief.
Since then I realized that electric outlets should not be as low as the standard two feet above the ground. It should be way way up to avoid electrical shock in times of flash floods and overall power is still on.
But then, as time passed, I forgot about the flood. I began to have more electrical appliances than electrical sockets so I began to have more and more extension cords. These extension outlets usually lie on the floor where I would plug in electric fans and night lights for overnight use. Some extensions have nothing plugged on them but they are carelessly stuck to the two-foot outlet and left overnight.
Then I began to realize the horror. A couple of nights ago, I couldn't sleep because of the steady rain outside. More and more cities have been flooded, ours might be next. I would rather sleep on the floor than on the bed so that if flood waters come in during our sleep, at least I could feel it while it's as low as a few inches deep. So the extension cords we are using must be raised higher to allow us more time to head for the main switch. Unused extensions must be pulled out at all times. Overnight electric fans must be placed on a higher elevation and not on the floor.
Now I'm thinking of emergency floaters. Since I can't afford even a surfboard and will have no use nor room for it in the meantime, I'm thinking of a wider version of a swimmer's kickboard. Why not a styropor board and stash it in the meantime under our mattresses as additional back support?
For a more ambitious project, since some Filipino modern homes feature a bahay kubo as a refreshing retreat from their concrete main house, why not build a native bamboo house that's not anchored to the ground but rather make its floor a bamboo raft at the same time so that when flood waters rise, you have an instant floating house?
Crazy invention mothered by necessity. My good friend is even thinking of joining two catamarans in his drawing board. Who's got a better idea?
God is cleaning house. So says a good friend of mine. To some extent, I agree with him, but I also believed in His promise never to destroy the earth again by water.
I am thankful that my personal calamities are bearable, only as much as I could carry. But I have had my own flood experience one fair, sunny afternoon in June 1, 2007 when it rained a gentle rain still with an afternoon sun. My daughter and her yaya decided to go out in the rain and were frolicking when suddenly a freak flood erupted from the clogged rain gutter of our house, filling up our ceiling in a matter of seconds and then the waters above started dropping through holes like mini waterfalls everywhere.
Then I thought: water conducts electricity. The computer was still on! I had to turn off everything and rushed to the main switch box. It seemed like an eternity trying to climb through a television set, stereo components until I got my hands on the levers, pulling them down as I heaved a great sigh of relief.
Since then I realized that electric outlets should not be as low as the standard two feet above the ground. It should be way way up to avoid electrical shock in times of flash floods and overall power is still on.
But then, as time passed, I forgot about the flood. I began to have more electrical appliances than electrical sockets so I began to have more and more extension cords. These extension outlets usually lie on the floor where I would plug in electric fans and night lights for overnight use. Some extensions have nothing plugged on them but they are carelessly stuck to the two-foot outlet and left overnight.
Then I began to realize the horror. A couple of nights ago, I couldn't sleep because of the steady rain outside. More and more cities have been flooded, ours might be next. I would rather sleep on the floor than on the bed so that if flood waters come in during our sleep, at least I could feel it while it's as low as a few inches deep. So the extension cords we are using must be raised higher to allow us more time to head for the main switch. Unused extensions must be pulled out at all times. Overnight electric fans must be placed on a higher elevation and not on the floor.
Now I'm thinking of emergency floaters. Since I can't afford even a surfboard and will have no use nor room for it in the meantime, I'm thinking of a wider version of a swimmer's kickboard. Why not a styropor board and stash it in the meantime under our mattresses as additional back support?
For a more ambitious project, since some Filipino modern homes feature a bahay kubo as a refreshing retreat from their concrete main house, why not build a native bamboo house that's not anchored to the ground but rather make its floor a bamboo raft at the same time so that when flood waters rise, you have an instant floating house?
Crazy invention mothered by necessity. My good friend is even thinking of joining two catamarans in his drawing board. Who's got a better idea?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
My Whirlwind Romance: Why I Would Not Advise Rushing Into Marriage
Like mother like daughter? I realized only too late that moms don't always know best.
Nineteen ninety six. I was 25. My mom had been pressuring me to get married already because I was getting old. She went as far as frankly asking my boyfriend at the time as to his plans for me. Not pleased with the vague response, she was nagging me until I told her that whoever comes along offering me marriage, him I will marry.
April 1996. I was talked by my officemates to join our regional inter-office beauty pageant. I won, qualifying myself for the nationals in Dagupan City, Pangasinan, which sounded exotic to me at the time. There I met a guy I never thought would be my future husband (I never corrected him mispronouncing my name Jo-an instead of Joan because I was thinking I would never see him ever again anyway. Later all my in-laws call me Jo-an while my side of the family and friends knowingly call me Joan. This annoyance I converted into a barometer as to how well people know me by the way they pronounce my name).
May 1996. I got for myself a nightly long distance caller form Pangasinan. He came over to Bacolod for the first time in June 1996, the start of our whirlwind romance.
July 1996, my boyfriend got involved in a carnapping case in Dagupan City and was choking the words through tears over my analogue remote-control-like cellphone. He didn't really say anything about the carnapping but he was sying things like he was ruined, there was no future for him, and that it would be better off for him to die. I was thinking suicide. So I rushed to see him in Dagupan. He was no longer suicidal but I was told about the hot car his social worker aunt purchased in his name. He was too happy to see me that he offered marriage. That was my cue!
August 1996. We quickly got married before a judge in Dagupan City, witnessed and financed only by his relatives. My mom was promised a church wedding for her only daughter, but it never happened until now.
September 1996. Bar Exams. I was already conceiving.
October to December 1996. I was detailed for three months in Dagupan City Trial Court. My detail order to end at the close of the year, I had to go back to Bacolod or lose my job. And Bacolod is a bigger city than Dagupan, and I would be needing my side of the family when I give birth.
May 1997. Our first daughter was born. My husband was jokingly saying that she will be our one and only child. That there won't be any other. Up to this day, Bea is my one and only.
September 1997. Thank goodness the carnapping case did not get into his NBI files, my husband was accepted into the Philippine National Police.
He started out as a good policeman with high and noble ideals. He served faithfully and enjoyed his job so much. With my influence in the local courts, he became popular and unlike other policeman, he instantly became well-known and grew in confidence with the clerks of courts up to the judges and later to mayors and congressmen.
2006. He became more and more scarce, always at work, his once noisy cell phone became too quiet and suspiciously empty. My woman's intuition felt that there was something wrong, like an itch you cannot scratch.
2009. The pieces of the puzzle started falling in place. He had a lot of explaining to do. But instead, he ran. He had no relatives in Bacolod or Negros. Many people tried to intervene to help hold the once admirable marriage together. A pastor, my office chief, a judge, a general, but my husband always had excuses to wriggle himself out of the conference. He just won't talk.
My mother? She refused to help. She said it was my life, and "life is what we make it", she could not solve my problems. And she was scared to death my policeman husband might shoot her. Same with my father. They're both afraid of guns. I'm afraid of guns, too, the reason why I used to tell myself, "I would never marry a policeman or a soldier." Or a nurse, or a seaman, or anyone whose job requires him to be away a lot from his family like my father used to.
Now it's turning out that mother is not like daughter after all. We had long unsettled issues (that will be tackled in a separate blog). The short of it is that she has unresolved issues with her late mother and now she's bringing everything down on me. I don't want that animosity handed down to my daughter.
When my daughter turned 12 on May 2009, she celebrated her birthday by opening her first solo exhibit. A milestone one might say. But her father never showed up. He never called, nor texted, nor sent a gift. Days and weeks and months passed, he became scarcer and scarcer. Even his friends and office chief didn't know how to contact him anymore.
His new direct superior called my attention about a Camp Crame Tracer looking for unaccounted short and long arms in the name of my husband, who allegedly kept promising his chief to report to work regarding this matter. He never did.
August 17, 2009. The police inspector was constrained to issue a memorandum for my husband to show cause why he should not be declared on AWOL. To no avail.
September 15, 2009. A second memorandum was issued declaring him absent without leave and dropped from the rolls of the PNP.
The day after I sent a message to a cousin-in-law on Facebook, the enraged aunt called from Dagupan City. She cursed and cursed and blamed Bacolod for everything and threatened to kill her nephew for having caused this embarrassment. Irate and irrational, she was shouting over the phone over her nephew's ruined future all because of Bacolod, thus she couldn't care less about ruining her own future as she was already old and that she could kill her nephew anytime if she sees him. The messages in my Facebook inbox were just as passionate and fiery.
But like my husband, she, they, did not show up. As if I have awakened from a nightmare, that they were just like bubbles that disappeared, but I still have a child as living proof that half of their blood forever runs in her veins.
In all this dark valley, my mother is never on my side. My father would like to help me in whatever little way that he can, but he is afraid of my mother's equally volanic anger.
But that's another story.
Like mother like daughter? Following her whirlwind romance turned out to be not a good idea. I was just not my mother's daughter. While she is still stuck in a marriage wherein to make her happy, she must always be the sole controlling figure, I am happily liberated in a marriage that is otherwise unhappy.
Nowadays, there are so many successful and contented single women in their thirties. My only consolation that I was once told by my mother that I was already too old to be single at 25, is that I have the best daughter in the world.
To her, I would not advise rushing into marriage. It is still best to know your man, to be friends with him, so that if love flies out of the window, you can still be friends forever.
Nineteen ninety six. I was 25. My mom had been pressuring me to get married already because I was getting old. She went as far as frankly asking my boyfriend at the time as to his plans for me. Not pleased with the vague response, she was nagging me until I told her that whoever comes along offering me marriage, him I will marry.
April 1996. I was talked by my officemates to join our regional inter-office beauty pageant. I won, qualifying myself for the nationals in Dagupan City, Pangasinan, which sounded exotic to me at the time. There I met a guy I never thought would be my future husband (I never corrected him mispronouncing my name Jo-an instead of Joan because I was thinking I would never see him ever again anyway. Later all my in-laws call me Jo-an while my side of the family and friends knowingly call me Joan. This annoyance I converted into a barometer as to how well people know me by the way they pronounce my name).
May 1996. I got for myself a nightly long distance caller form Pangasinan. He came over to Bacolod for the first time in June 1996, the start of our whirlwind romance.
July 1996, my boyfriend got involved in a carnapping case in Dagupan City and was choking the words through tears over my analogue remote-control-like cellphone. He didn't really say anything about the carnapping but he was sying things like he was ruined, there was no future for him, and that it would be better off for him to die. I was thinking suicide. So I rushed to see him in Dagupan. He was no longer suicidal but I was told about the hot car his social worker aunt purchased in his name. He was too happy to see me that he offered marriage. That was my cue!
August 1996. We quickly got married before a judge in Dagupan City, witnessed and financed only by his relatives. My mom was promised a church wedding for her only daughter, but it never happened until now.
September 1996. Bar Exams. I was already conceiving.
October to December 1996. I was detailed for three months in Dagupan City Trial Court. My detail order to end at the close of the year, I had to go back to Bacolod or lose my job. And Bacolod is a bigger city than Dagupan, and I would be needing my side of the family when I give birth.
May 1997. Our first daughter was born. My husband was jokingly saying that she will be our one and only child. That there won't be any other. Up to this day, Bea is my one and only.
September 1997. Thank goodness the carnapping case did not get into his NBI files, my husband was accepted into the Philippine National Police.
He started out as a good policeman with high and noble ideals. He served faithfully and enjoyed his job so much. With my influence in the local courts, he became popular and unlike other policeman, he instantly became well-known and grew in confidence with the clerks of courts up to the judges and later to mayors and congressmen.
2006. He became more and more scarce, always at work, his once noisy cell phone became too quiet and suspiciously empty. My woman's intuition felt that there was something wrong, like an itch you cannot scratch.
2009. The pieces of the puzzle started falling in place. He had a lot of explaining to do. But instead, he ran. He had no relatives in Bacolod or Negros. Many people tried to intervene to help hold the once admirable marriage together. A pastor, my office chief, a judge, a general, but my husband always had excuses to wriggle himself out of the conference. He just won't talk.
My mother? She refused to help. She said it was my life, and "life is what we make it", she could not solve my problems. And she was scared to death my policeman husband might shoot her. Same with my father. They're both afraid of guns. I'm afraid of guns, too, the reason why I used to tell myself, "I would never marry a policeman or a soldier." Or a nurse, or a seaman, or anyone whose job requires him to be away a lot from his family like my father used to.
Now it's turning out that mother is not like daughter after all. We had long unsettled issues (that will be tackled in a separate blog). The short of it is that she has unresolved issues with her late mother and now she's bringing everything down on me. I don't want that animosity handed down to my daughter.
When my daughter turned 12 on May 2009, she celebrated her birthday by opening her first solo exhibit. A milestone one might say. But her father never showed up. He never called, nor texted, nor sent a gift. Days and weeks and months passed, he became scarcer and scarcer. Even his friends and office chief didn't know how to contact him anymore.
His new direct superior called my attention about a Camp Crame Tracer looking for unaccounted short and long arms in the name of my husband, who allegedly kept promising his chief to report to work regarding this matter. He never did.
August 17, 2009. The police inspector was constrained to issue a memorandum for my husband to show cause why he should not be declared on AWOL. To no avail.
September 15, 2009. A second memorandum was issued declaring him absent without leave and dropped from the rolls of the PNP.
The day after I sent a message to a cousin-in-law on Facebook, the enraged aunt called from Dagupan City. She cursed and cursed and blamed Bacolod for everything and threatened to kill her nephew for having caused this embarrassment. Irate and irrational, she was shouting over the phone over her nephew's ruined future all because of Bacolod, thus she couldn't care less about ruining her own future as she was already old and that she could kill her nephew anytime if she sees him. The messages in my Facebook inbox were just as passionate and fiery.
But like my husband, she, they, did not show up. As if I have awakened from a nightmare, that they were just like bubbles that disappeared, but I still have a child as living proof that half of their blood forever runs in her veins.
In all this dark valley, my mother is never on my side. My father would like to help me in whatever little way that he can, but he is afraid of my mother's equally volanic anger.
But that's another story.
Like mother like daughter? Following her whirlwind romance turned out to be not a good idea. I was just not my mother's daughter. While she is still stuck in a marriage wherein to make her happy, she must always be the sole controlling figure, I am happily liberated in a marriage that is otherwise unhappy.
Nowadays, there are so many successful and contented single women in their thirties. My only consolation that I was once told by my mother that I was already too old to be single at 25, is that I have the best daughter in the world.
To her, I would not advise rushing into marriage. It is still best to know your man, to be friends with him, so that if love flies out of the window, you can still be friends forever.
Why I Did Not Pass The Bar, I Think...
Everything has a purpose.
I flunked the bar three times. And I believe each flunk has a purpose because I believe I'm not stupid.
Flunk No. 1: I was stupid. I graduated sometime in March 1996 with my two bestfriends. Grace wanted to take the Bar right after graduation but was afraid to go to Manila on her own so she was begging me to take the exams with her. Christy has decided to defer taking the Bar for another year to prepare herself fully. I was undecided. But I decided to go for it, relying on my batting average that I had never failed in any exam in the past, in fact, I passed my IQ Tests, Aptitude Tests, NCEE, Civil Service Exams, etc. with flying colors. Then in the homestretch of the review, I got married.
Flunk No. 2: I was like stoned when I heard the radio news anchor skipping my name as he read the passers. I knew I was prepared this time, after 9 years, but why? I did not cry. I did not blame God. What was the purpose of this, I simply asked? My officemates rallied for me to give it a consecutive try, this time, with study leave starting June 1. In the afternoon of that day, while I was reviewing my lessons on the computer, a freak flood suddenly erupted from the clogged rain gutter of our house while my daughter and her yaya were frolicking in the rain outside. Realizing the danger of electricity running through the fast rising water, I quickly pulled out all the electric cords and pantingly rushed to the main switch box which seemed like a steep climb. What if it was only Bea and her yaya all wet from the rain rushing into a flooded house with electricity charged waters? I had to be in that house, and the Bar review was the perfect excuse for me to be there.
Flunk No. 3: Finally I was humbled. I was called to serve my church in legal matters. Had I been a full-fledged lawyer, I may not have the time to be called to such a noble service.
I flunked the bar three times. And I believe each flunk has a purpose because I believe I'm not stupid.
Flunk No. 1: I was stupid. I graduated sometime in March 1996 with my two bestfriends. Grace wanted to take the Bar right after graduation but was afraid to go to Manila on her own so she was begging me to take the exams with her. Christy has decided to defer taking the Bar for another year to prepare herself fully. I was undecided. But I decided to go for it, relying on my batting average that I had never failed in any exam in the past, in fact, I passed my IQ Tests, Aptitude Tests, NCEE, Civil Service Exams, etc. with flying colors. Then in the homestretch of the review, I got married.
Flunk No. 2: I was like stoned when I heard the radio news anchor skipping my name as he read the passers. I knew I was prepared this time, after 9 years, but why? I did not cry. I did not blame God. What was the purpose of this, I simply asked? My officemates rallied for me to give it a consecutive try, this time, with study leave starting June 1. In the afternoon of that day, while I was reviewing my lessons on the computer, a freak flood suddenly erupted from the clogged rain gutter of our house while my daughter and her yaya were frolicking in the rain outside. Realizing the danger of electricity running through the fast rising water, I quickly pulled out all the electric cords and pantingly rushed to the main switch box which seemed like a steep climb. What if it was only Bea and her yaya all wet from the rain rushing into a flooded house with electricity charged waters? I had to be in that house, and the Bar review was the perfect excuse for me to be there.
Flunk No. 3: Finally I was humbled. I was called to serve my church in legal matters. Had I been a full-fledged lawyer, I may not have the time to be called to such a noble service.
1 Thessalonians 5:18 "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."
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