Well well well, look do we have here. A bun in the oven. A baby in the belly. A fetus in the innards. And so soon after the wedding that came so soon after the proposal that came so soon after the relationship. My, my, aren’t we living life on fast forward these days?
First things first, I believe congratulations are in order. You are fertile after all. Good job. Felicitations, too, for easily making drach a willing accomplice to this. Let’s face it, that was the bigger, sweeter feat. Very well done.
Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk shall we?
Ets, I’ve known you for 37 years. You are still the lazy, happy-go-lucky, under achiever you were in grade 5. This casual attitude you’ve taken that has, admittedly, protected you from some of life’s humbling blows has got to change somehow. You give up easily and you fail quite yieldingly. You could have been such a big loser but, fortunately, you’re able to bounce back as easily. But now, you have to start taking yourself more seriously.
You know how when people ask you why you never seem stressed and you tell them in a firm and resolute voice that seem to carry with it the wisdom of Solomon that “you know what, I don’t save lives. If I bungle a direction from client, no one dies.”
Well, guess what child, this thing that you are about to do is the greatest life-saving project you will ever be a part of.
DO NOT FUCK THIS UP.
You have been entrusted with the care of a human life. I’m sorry ets, and I’m sorry to all the feministas that might stumble upon this blog, but nothing you will ever do will ever be as important as this. Please take this seriously. Never mind that your only qualification is wanting this too much for too long. Find a way to make this work.
So I’ve taken everything I know about you and made you a list of how you could make this work. Refer to it please whenever you can.
1. Do not pass on your fears to your child
Its bad enough that you could be passing on your hips to your child but please do not pass on your fears. Let him explore, let him climb, let him fly. It is not your place to hold him back. Just make sure you're there if he falls and hurts himself.
2. Communicate
I know you always want to keep things light and breezy. So you ask about the fun and funny things and tend to ignore what lies deeper. Find a balance please. Ask him about his new crush but also ask him about his insecurities and fears. Yes, even if he’s only three.
3. Be honest
You owe this child honesty, so that he may hear it graciously and that he may give it tactfully. If he writes a bad song like anna banana, tell him “anak, medyo masama eto. Wag mo nalang siguro ipost sa youtube. Halika makinig tayo ng eheads. Nagsulat rin sila ng kanta tungkol sa fruit. Actually fruitcake. Pero simple rin lang pero may konting lalim.”
4. Open your mind.
You are as much a student in this as he is. This child will grow up in a different world in a different time. Learn it with him. Understand it with him. Do not let him be an alien to you and vice versa.
5. teach your child kindness.
While you’ve always believed in the inherent goodness of man, you’ve come to realize that you might be a little wrong. The potential to be good, to be kind, that is what is inherent. Not goodness itself. Some people are born strong, some are born intelligent, but you don’t believe that anyone is born either kind or unkind. Kindness is taught. It is nurtured and encouraged. Teach him to be kind and remember that the best way to do that is to practice it yourself.
Okay that’s about it. Good luck chum.
Love,
Ets
As of this writing, i still don't know the gender of my child so i used him / he. wala lang.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Monday, April 02, 2012
Through the eyes of my twin
If you ask me, I'll tell you without blinking that the best wedding I've ever attended was mine.
But, of course, that's just me.
I mean sure it wasn't perfect. There was a surprise pink wedding at the park that ruined the walk from the fountain that I saw myself doing since the day we booked the place. Then there was my imeldific hair. So big migeads. But to me, it was perfect. Not my hair, the wedding i mean.
So I am sooooo happy when other people tell me that they had fun at the wedding. Especially when its people who really know what fun means.
Here's a blog from my twin brother, pats, who captured the wedding beautifully in photos and in words.
from THE El Camino>
But, of course, that's just me.
I mean sure it wasn't perfect. There was a surprise pink wedding at the park that ruined the walk from the fountain that I saw myself doing since the day we booked the place. Then there was my imeldific hair. So big migeads. But to me, it was perfect. Not my hair, the wedding i mean.
So I am sooooo happy when other people tell me that they had fun at the wedding. Especially when its people who really know what fun means.
Here's a blog from my twin brother, pats, who captured the wedding beautifully in photos and in words.
from THE El Camino>
Monday, February 27, 2012
white lace and promises
I am married.
The next time I have to fill out a form, there will be a check mark on the married box and the single box will remain empty. My mom will finally, after 36 years, be relieved as my in case of emergency person. My husband will be getting that call now. There will be no more 6-month searches for one’s self in an island somewhere. No more sudden resignations just because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed one morning. No more of those hasty decisions I am so used to making.
I am no longer just me anymore.
Legally, I am attached to this person. This person who is not my blood. This person who did not see me grow up. This person who just came to my life some years ago. Let me say that again because its big - I am legally bound to this person. Isn’t that terrifying? If I should ever choose to unbind myself from this person, there will be legal impediments. There will be court cases and petitions and consequences and maybe even custody battles. Of course the implications are not just legal. There will be judgment and whispers and assumptions that somehow, in some way, I have failed.
I should be terrified. I should be shaking in my flats. I should be holding on to my mommy’s hand for dear life.
I’m not.
In fact, I am unbelievably and ridiculously happy.
For the rest of my life, I am bound to this person. This person who makes me happy. This person who makes me laugh. This person who has seen me through so much shit and, despite that, remains determined to spend the rest of his life with me. Its only been two weeks and already I cannot imagine not waking up next to him.
And of course it won’t be a walk in the park. I am, after all, ME and he is, after all, NOT.
But what’s so nice about walking in the park anyway? If its such a big deal then why arn’t more people out in the park walking. In fact, people walking in the park these days are either emo, jobless or lurking for their next victim. Yeah, I don’t care for that. I want to be where happy people are, DISNEYLAND! Because right now I am on a ride with my seatbelts fastened, my arms up in the air, screaming at the top of my lungs “AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I am no longer just me anymore :)
Sunday, January 01, 2012
Monday, December 12, 2011
That month in Europe!
It’s an injustice really how, 6 months after, and I still have not written about that trip. The truth is, to this day, i still can’t believe i was actually there. See, while it was a trip I’ve been planning all my life, it was also a trip I never actually believed I could have. A month in Europe on my pay check is not only irresponsible, it should be criminal. But all the pieces easily found its way to its proper places without so much as a nudge – the visa that came on a silver platter, the loan that was offered without a payment deadline, the luggage that looked a little like Jennifer Lopez – the universe clearly wanted me to go.
So here, the blog about the month I will never ever forget.
Thank you Paris
For looking exactly as you do in postcards.
From that first night we picnicked in front of the Eiffel Tower, eating bread and drinking wine, you had me completely under your spell.
You said “Ets, look at my architecture. Now say hu-wow!.”
So I said hu- wow!
You said “Ets, eat my food. Say hu-wow!” So, I said hu-wow!
You said “Ets, My God have you seen the Louvre? Go there and say hu-wow!” So I went and said hu-wow!
Everything you showed me got a hu-wow! Cos really, how can the River seine, the Arc de triomphe, the gardens of Luxumburg and Versailles, the pomme de terre, the crepes, the macaroons and the rue mouffetard, deserve anything less than a HU WOW!
So it was a little surprising how, despite all the sweeping me off my feet, I didn’t feel a real connection with you. I remember having a conversation with the team about this that night in Marais. How we don't have a future cos I don’t think I can ever feel at home in you, Paris. Not that I didn’t want to because I so badly wanted to. But if we could have had a conversation about this, you would have said “its not you ets, its me.” And that would have been absolutely accurate.
You kept me out. You created this invisible wall around you that I couldn’t seem to penetrate. The discreet conversations of your beautiful people, the shut windows of your magnificent buildings made it clear that i was never really invited to participate in the discussion or that I was never meant to see past the surface of your architecture.
But never mind that. The tourist in me was more than blown away anyway. You were beautiful. You were delicious. You were breath taking. You were also a little dirty and we all had a nose full of booger every hour to prove that.
So while I may never understand you completely, know please that, of all the places I visited, I am most grateful for you. After all, you know, proposal.
Thank you Spain
I was hungry for you. I’ve been hungry for you for a long time. I, of course, am not quite as Spanish as i’d like to think I am but, from grades 1 to 4, I went to a Chinese school where I was more Spanish than everyone else combined. And believe me, you don’t want to be the ‘only Spanish person’ in a 4th grade class when the topic is the Spanish occupation in the Philippines because the trauma from that one class is enough to never make you forget that you are part Spanish.
My point simply is, I feel Spanish enough to hunger for you... my motherland. Hahaha.
And I have to say, you were quite the buffet.
Ibiza was nothing like I saw in my head. Cos I saw Boracay in my head. And Ibiza is as different from Boracay as a great dane is to a Chihuahua. Ibiza has roads. A whole lot of roads. Roads that go up a hill, roads that go down a cove, roads that go on for miles and miles. For short, roads that you cannot just traverse on a motorbike. It. Is. Huge. And pretty. That, it is too.
And that place where Ana and Monch got married, God was in such a good mood when he made that.
Barcelona was too much. Literally and otherwise. Sensory overload in every nook and cranny. The costumed actors frozen in a pose, the artists with their paintings and caricatures, the peddlers with their illegal goods, the noisy tourists who cannot seem to handle their liquor, and the occasional vagrant always on the lookout for a free smoke. They were everywhere. Along the chaotic street of las ramblas, in the narrow alleys that smelled a little of piss, scattered across the shore of the widest beach i’ve ever seen.
Everywhere there had everything. Everything was all around us.
I kept saying that I would have enjoyed Barcelona more had we not just come from Paris. And for the length of our stay there, all I did was compare the two cities. It was not as sophisticated, it was not as stunning, it was not this, it was not that. What I failed to appreciate then was that Barcelona was all too willing to give us what Paris did not. See, unlike Paris, Barcelona was quite eager to let us in. Everywhere, anytime, you could hear her saying “see me, hear me, feel me, eat me!” She was just waiting for us to participate. And to a certain extent, I did participate. But mostly, I compared.
So I am sorry, Barcelona. I was very unfair.
And now we come to my favorite. Sevilla.
My heart stopped beating several times while I was in Europe but the longest it stayed on pause was the first time I saw the cathedral in Sevilla.
We were walking for maybe 10 minutes, going from one beautifully lit street to another. Some were narrow roads with old buildings, some were wide lined with cafes and restaurants, but all of them beautifully lit with yellow lamp posts. We were on a narrow street when Corinne’s GPS app showed us that we were very near the cathedral. We thought surely the app was wrong because how can this narrow road with no sign of life lead to a...
... beautiful, amazing, grand cathedral bathed in yellow light with over a hundred birds flying above it.
It was a movie set. I think that was the mayors goal. Never mind urban planners and city engineers, the mayor hired cinematographers and set designers. I was hoping a little to find Tom Cruise walking around the plaza with the wind blowing in his hair. I did not of course.
That night is why Sevilla became my favorite.
The days after had added bonuses. A medieval fair complete with a jousting match, the Plaza Espana that was very vast and very empty, the Flamenco show starring Antonio Banderas and Snooky Serna, the children playing naked in the fountain, the neighbourhood restaurant managed by dignified old men -- all of it, a movie set I tell you.
We left Sevilla to go to Cantabria where we expected nothing. It was a courtesy really more than anything. Some of my favorite relatives live there and I personally was curious to see how they lived when they were not with us here in Manila. Now, i wonder why they ever come back to Manila at all.
Cantabria was beautiful. And cold. And beautiful. And huge. And beautiful.
The mountains, colored in every shade of green, was interrupted only by mountains, painted in charcoal. And always behind them was the sky in every hue of blue. Oh but wait, there was also the beach. Sure it was a beach too cold to swim in but a beach nonetheless.
We drove to Comillas, to San Vicente, to Potes, to Santillana del mar, and to Santander. I was lucky enough to be in the car with my tito who grew up there and who generously shared stories and memories of this place and that.
They also generously shared their lovely home with us. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality. They made sure we were fed, comfortable and warm. One of my favorite meals during the entire month was the breakfast we had in Treseno where Tito Serafin and Tita Belit served us curado cheese with bread and mayo. Simple joys = love.
After only three short days in Cantabria, we had to leave for Madrid with a heavy heart. But the fact is, it’s hard to keep a heavy heart when one’s travelling eh. So by the time we got to Madrid, despite the spastic GPS system that did not know its way around Madrid, we were happy to be there.
I loved everything about Madrid. It reminded me a lot of HongKong which, given how much i love HK, is always a good thing. Like Hongkong, the city was alive 24/7, there was cheap, good food all around (hello museo del jamon!), and Filipinos were everywhere.
The neighbourhood where we stayed, a block from gran via, was crowded with prostitutes of every skin color and accent. They offered sex to the boys and they offered sex to us girls too. I love how they are open to any type of business.
Because of Ana, we knew where to eat and where to go. We also knew what canned goods to buy to bring home. She was quite the hostess with the mostest. One of my favorite memories was that night we walked around town in the rain. My feet were soaked as my boots took on 20 gallons of rain water and I was c-c-co-cold. Brrrr. But even in the Philippines, I’ve always loved the rain and Madrid in the rain is prettier than Manila in the rain so I was sooo okay with that.
Thank you Universe!!!
For making this happen. May you never tire of showing me as much of you as I can get.
Next stop, the moon.
So here, the blog about the month I will never ever forget.
Thank you Paris
For looking exactly as you do in postcards.
From that first night we picnicked in front of the Eiffel Tower, eating bread and drinking wine, you had me completely under your spell.
You said “Ets, look at my architecture. Now say hu-wow!.”
So I said hu- wow!
You said “Ets, eat my food. Say hu-wow!” So, I said hu-wow!
You said “Ets, My God have you seen the Louvre? Go there and say hu-wow!” So I went and said hu-wow!
Everything you showed me got a hu-wow! Cos really, how can the River seine, the Arc de triomphe, the gardens of Luxumburg and Versailles, the pomme de terre, the crepes, the macaroons and the rue mouffetard, deserve anything less than a HU WOW!
So it was a little surprising how, despite all the sweeping me off my feet, I didn’t feel a real connection with you. I remember having a conversation with the team about this that night in Marais. How we don't have a future cos I don’t think I can ever feel at home in you, Paris. Not that I didn’t want to because I so badly wanted to. But if we could have had a conversation about this, you would have said “its not you ets, its me.” And that would have been absolutely accurate.
You kept me out. You created this invisible wall around you that I couldn’t seem to penetrate. The discreet conversations of your beautiful people, the shut windows of your magnificent buildings made it clear that i was never really invited to participate in the discussion or that I was never meant to see past the surface of your architecture.
But never mind that. The tourist in me was more than blown away anyway. You were beautiful. You were delicious. You were breath taking. You were also a little dirty and we all had a nose full of booger every hour to prove that.
So while I may never understand you completely, know please that, of all the places I visited, I am most grateful for you. After all, you know, proposal.
Thank you Spain
I was hungry for you. I’ve been hungry for you for a long time. I, of course, am not quite as Spanish as i’d like to think I am but, from grades 1 to 4, I went to a Chinese school where I was more Spanish than everyone else combined. And believe me, you don’t want to be the ‘only Spanish person’ in a 4th grade class when the topic is the Spanish occupation in the Philippines because the trauma from that one class is enough to never make you forget that you are part Spanish.
My point simply is, I feel Spanish enough to hunger for you... my motherland. Hahaha.
And I have to say, you were quite the buffet.
Ibiza was nothing like I saw in my head. Cos I saw Boracay in my head. And Ibiza is as different from Boracay as a great dane is to a Chihuahua. Ibiza has roads. A whole lot of roads. Roads that go up a hill, roads that go down a cove, roads that go on for miles and miles. For short, roads that you cannot just traverse on a motorbike. It. Is. Huge. And pretty. That, it is too.
And that place where Ana and Monch got married, God was in such a good mood when he made that.
Barcelona was too much. Literally and otherwise. Sensory overload in every nook and cranny. The costumed actors frozen in a pose, the artists with their paintings and caricatures, the peddlers with their illegal goods, the noisy tourists who cannot seem to handle their liquor, and the occasional vagrant always on the lookout for a free smoke. They were everywhere. Along the chaotic street of las ramblas, in the narrow alleys that smelled a little of piss, scattered across the shore of the widest beach i’ve ever seen.
Everywhere there had everything. Everything was all around us.
I kept saying that I would have enjoyed Barcelona more had we not just come from Paris. And for the length of our stay there, all I did was compare the two cities. It was not as sophisticated, it was not as stunning, it was not this, it was not that. What I failed to appreciate then was that Barcelona was all too willing to give us what Paris did not. See, unlike Paris, Barcelona was quite eager to let us in. Everywhere, anytime, you could hear her saying “see me, hear me, feel me, eat me!” She was just waiting for us to participate. And to a certain extent, I did participate. But mostly, I compared.
So I am sorry, Barcelona. I was very unfair.
And now we come to my favorite. Sevilla.
My heart stopped beating several times while I was in Europe but the longest it stayed on pause was the first time I saw the cathedral in Sevilla.
We were walking for maybe 10 minutes, going from one beautifully lit street to another. Some were narrow roads with old buildings, some were wide lined with cafes and restaurants, but all of them beautifully lit with yellow lamp posts. We were on a narrow street when Corinne’s GPS app showed us that we were very near the cathedral. We thought surely the app was wrong because how can this narrow road with no sign of life lead to a...
... beautiful, amazing, grand cathedral bathed in yellow light with over a hundred birds flying above it.
It was a movie set. I think that was the mayors goal. Never mind urban planners and city engineers, the mayor hired cinematographers and set designers. I was hoping a little to find Tom Cruise walking around the plaza with the wind blowing in his hair. I did not of course.
That night is why Sevilla became my favorite.
The days after had added bonuses. A medieval fair complete with a jousting match, the Plaza Espana that was very vast and very empty, the Flamenco show starring Antonio Banderas and Snooky Serna, the children playing naked in the fountain, the neighbourhood restaurant managed by dignified old men -- all of it, a movie set I tell you.
We left Sevilla to go to Cantabria where we expected nothing. It was a courtesy really more than anything. Some of my favorite relatives live there and I personally was curious to see how they lived when they were not with us here in Manila. Now, i wonder why they ever come back to Manila at all.
Cantabria was beautiful. And cold. And beautiful. And huge. And beautiful.
The mountains, colored in every shade of green, was interrupted only by mountains, painted in charcoal. And always behind them was the sky in every hue of blue. Oh but wait, there was also the beach. Sure it was a beach too cold to swim in but a beach nonetheless.
We drove to Comillas, to San Vicente, to Potes, to Santillana del mar, and to Santander. I was lucky enough to be in the car with my tito who grew up there and who generously shared stories and memories of this place and that.
They also generously shared their lovely home with us. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality. They made sure we were fed, comfortable and warm. One of my favorite meals during the entire month was the breakfast we had in Treseno where Tito Serafin and Tita Belit served us curado cheese with bread and mayo. Simple joys = love.
After only three short days in Cantabria, we had to leave for Madrid with a heavy heart. But the fact is, it’s hard to keep a heavy heart when one’s travelling eh. So by the time we got to Madrid, despite the spastic GPS system that did not know its way around Madrid, we were happy to be there.
I loved everything about Madrid. It reminded me a lot of HongKong which, given how much i love HK, is always a good thing. Like Hongkong, the city was alive 24/7, there was cheap, good food all around (hello museo del jamon!), and Filipinos were everywhere.
The neighbourhood where we stayed, a block from gran via, was crowded with prostitutes of every skin color and accent. They offered sex to the boys and they offered sex to us girls too. I love how they are open to any type of business.
Because of Ana, we knew where to eat and where to go. We also knew what canned goods to buy to bring home. She was quite the hostess with the mostest. One of my favorite memories was that night we walked around town in the rain. My feet were soaked as my boots took on 20 gallons of rain water and I was c-c-co-cold. Brrrr. But even in the Philippines, I’ve always loved the rain and Madrid in the rain is prettier than Manila in the rain so I was sooo okay with that.
Thank you Universe!!!
For making this happen. May you never tire of showing me as much of you as I can get.
Next stop, the moon.
Friday, January 07, 2011
couplehood. or perhaps coupledom.
i was alone for a loooong time before d. so naturally, during this looong period of time, there was only one person i thought of - me. add to that the fact that i was never the caring, nurturing type like tracy to begin with and you get me in really awkward situations with my boyfriend.
the most recent of which happened in the foodcourt where after buying our food together, he goes off to get water and i go to get utensils and we meet back in the table where he has two glasses of water, one for him and one for me, and i have my spoon and my fork and he, of course, has none.
so he looks at me from across the table with frustration and, i have to say, a little hurt in his eyes, and he asks "you didn't get for me?." I shrink a little, make weird awkward noises like "aheee," stand up and quickly get him his utensils.
i then spend the next 10 minutes proving that i am a proper girlfriend by getting him more water and such.
i have also forgotten to introduce him a couple of times BUT, in my defense, thats really just me having bad manners more than anything. I really dont have social graces talaga despite my cora dolorosa short course education.
so anyway, having said that, i think the other stuff that makes one a half of a couple, i've sort of embraced. and while i may never peel his shrimps for him, he can always get anything he wants from my plate.
and people who really know me know how big that is.
and people who really dont, please dont touch the food on my plate.
the most recent of which happened in the foodcourt where after buying our food together, he goes off to get water and i go to get utensils and we meet back in the table where he has two glasses of water, one for him and one for me, and i have my spoon and my fork and he, of course, has none.
so he looks at me from across the table with frustration and, i have to say, a little hurt in his eyes, and he asks "you didn't get for me?." I shrink a little, make weird awkward noises like "aheee," stand up and quickly get him his utensils.
i then spend the next 10 minutes proving that i am a proper girlfriend by getting him more water and such.
i have also forgotten to introduce him a couple of times BUT, in my defense, thats really just me having bad manners more than anything. I really dont have social graces talaga despite my cora dolorosa short course education.
so anyway, having said that, i think the other stuff that makes one a half of a couple, i've sort of embraced. and while i may never peel his shrimps for him, he can always get anything he wants from my plate.
and people who really know me know how big that is.
and people who really dont, please dont touch the food on my plate.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
LUCK!!! - 2011
i know, i know, its such a wimpy word. it has none of that rah-rah-rah i am the master of the universe rockstar attitude BUT sometimes a little of it is all one needs to be a master of the universe rockstar.
See ive always been a hard worker. i try to be a nice person. I do not take advantage of people and I always try to deliver in both my personal and professional life. So i believe i deserve a little more bone than I've been given. and this year, I'm prepared to chew on it until all its delicious juices have dried out.
And sure it will be about the big game-changer things. The kind of luck that puts you at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time and you wake up one morning in a mansion with 2,000 pairs of shoes.
But it will also be about the little things like not being stuck in a traffic jam when I'm already late or easily finding that one knife in a drawer of ten thousand spoons or any of that other stuff Alanis thinks is ironic but really is just plain bad luck.
So there. I really feel great about this word. I really feel great about this year. And everytime some dude picks a chick up and thinks to himself "oooh someones getting lucky tonight," they will not know it but they will always be referring to MEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
Thank you universe =)
See ive always been a hard worker. i try to be a nice person. I do not take advantage of people and I always try to deliver in both my personal and professional life. So i believe i deserve a little more bone than I've been given. and this year, I'm prepared to chew on it until all its delicious juices have dried out.
And sure it will be about the big game-changer things. The kind of luck that puts you at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time and you wake up one morning in a mansion with 2,000 pairs of shoes.
But it will also be about the little things like not being stuck in a traffic jam when I'm already late or easily finding that one knife in a drawer of ten thousand spoons or any of that other stuff Alanis thinks is ironic but really is just plain bad luck.
So there. I really feel great about this word. I really feel great about this year. And everytime some dude picks a chick up and thinks to himself "oooh someones getting lucky tonight," they will not know it but they will always be referring to MEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
Thank you universe =)
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