Boys and Men

A book entitled Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus is a much-touted book but one I've never read. The title speaks for itself: the male and the female species are as disparate as can humanly be possible.

Just the other night, a friend and I were talking about the idea and were laughing about it when she said something to the effect that the Mars and Venus bits are relative to their distance from the sun. I said, "not from the earth?" I was thinking in terms of being detached from reality. Then I said, maybe it should be men are from Pluto and women from Mercury. That's why many husbands frustrate their wives. They take many things for granted which same things women value or are sensitive about or to. The same goes for moms and their sons.

Let me give a concrete example.

Yesterday would have been Joey's 19th birthday. His parents for the first time celebrated the event with the class. When Joey was around, he'd give money P50, I think, to his classmates during recess to buy what they wanted. That would constitute his birthday treat. How novel, no?

Anyway, back to yesterday, so the parents of Joey texted and emailed the classmates and their parents and friends to come to a kite-flying party. Someone had dreamt that was what Joey wanted (I think I mentioned this in a previous blog). As the afternoon wore one, my son said, "Want to join us? We'll sing happy birthday for Joey." So we promptly went to where tables were laden with food, a birthday cake included. The boys sang on benches were Joey used to hang out before a Dulaang Sibol show. In fact he has pictures attesting to that.

After the sang, the mom explained why the request that everything sing, to us, a small group of moms huddled around her. She said that a blog of Joey said something to the effect that on his 18th birthday, his parents didn't sing him Happy Birthday. She sadly recalled that, in the past when they'd sing for him, he'd brush them aside, implying they should stop, it was corny, etc. But deep down, after all, he missed it when they decided not to sing for him. oh boy...

Men -- they bottle up how they feel, they pretend they don't feel. They do, after all...

Picture attached is of the kite we brought. It's supposed to be a bat which looks so miniscule. You might need binoculars to see it. The bigger kites refused to take off. There wasn't much wind. I'll post the picture later.

Here it is. Look for the kite. It's between twigs. It looks like a speck in the sky, but at least it flew. The bigger kites didn't or dropped off after a few seconds. Our kite looked so third world because it was small and black, but small can be beautiful. Hahaha. Rationalizing.






Oh, okay, somewhere else in this blog entry is another picture of the bat kite in the sky. It's more evident, right?

Values, Moral Standards - Should they be compromised?

Time and again, a few persons in my circle have expressed "You are too conservative, too old-fashioned, too strict." They follow this up with a shake of their heads. But I remain firm. Not even for the sake of being popular do I pretend to change my mind. Then yesterday, I read the following passage or exchange of ideas of Wilson and Noah, from Nicholas Sparks' The Wedding. Wilson is Noah's son-in-law. It goes:

"Hello, Noah," but instead of responding with his usual greeting, he turned toward me with a look of incredulity.

"C'mere," he said, motioning toward me, 'you won't believe what they're showing right now."

I moved into the room. "What are you watching?"

"I don't know," he said, still focused on the screen. "Some kind of talk show. I thought it would be like Johnny Carson but it's not. You can't imagine what they're talking about."

My mind immediately conjured up a series of vulgar programs, the kind that always made me wonder how their producers could sleep at night. Sure enough, the station was one of them. I didn't need to know the topic to know what he'd seen;for the most part they all featured the same disgusting topics, told as luridly as possible by guests whose single goal, it seemed, was to be on television, no matter how degraded they degraded they were made to look.

"Why would you choose a show like that?"

"I didn't even know it was on," he explained, "I was looking for the news, then there was a commercial and this came on. And when I saw what was going on, I couldn't help but watch. It was like staring at an accident on the side of the highway."

I sat on the bed beside him. "That bad?"

"Let's say I wouldn't want to be young these days. Society's going downhill fast, and I'm glad I won't be around to see it crash."

I smiled, "You're sounding your age, Noah."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

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My take on the statement: oftentimes, when people say I'm too conservative and old-fashioned, I start to wonder whether indeed I am. It is very unsettling to be accused of that because it makes me feel Jurassic. But somehow, I stand (or okay, sit firm, stay pat) on my beliefs and now, I have a counter statement if I hear myself being accused of being old-fashioned, "Maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Old-fashioned values and moral standards reflect a deep sense of respect for oneself and the people one deals with. They did not, do not denigrate a person. Is that wrong? Does that make them any less worthy of being observed? Lived by? Methinks they aren't.

Reading that exchange in a fairly modern author's work (the book as published in 2003) surprised me a bit. Nicholas Sparks is popular, having written the much read The Notebook.

My wedding ninang get-up

In an earlier post you saw my blouse. Two posts ago, you saw my sandals as ninang (T Studio). Below are my blouse with the pants I wore and the bag I used. The bag is also from T Studio which has stuff in Rustan's though it has a stand alone store in Power Plant.

Inay by Arnel Aquino, SJ

My son recorded this song so i'm posting the lyrics here so I can sing along with him when I listen to him. Got the lyrics from: http://www.hangad.org/pages.old/ministry/recordings/songs.php?action=viewsong&song_id=00027
Got the image from papemelroti website: http://www.papemelroti.com/1-1180.jpg

Inay

Sa mahinahong paalam ng araw
Sa pag-ihip ng hanging kahapunan
Balabal ko'y init ng 'yong pag-ibig
Sa dapit-hapong kay lamig

Mga bituin kay agang magsigising
Umaandap, mapaglaro man din
Iyong ngiti hatid nila sa akin
Sa diwa ko't panalangin

Puso ko'y pahimlayin Inay
Upang yaring hamog
Ng gabing tiwasay
Ay madama ko bilang damping
Halik ng 'yong Anak
Ay! Irog kong inay

Sa palad niyo itago aking palad
Aking bakas sa inyong bakas ilapat
At iuwi sa tahanan kong dapat
Sa piling ng inyong Anak

Puso ko'y pahimlayin Inay
Upang yaring hamog
Ng gabing tiwasay
Ay madama ko bilang damping
Halik ng 'yong anak
Ay! Irog ko, O Ina kong mahal
Ay! Irog kong Inay

We have addressed our Blessed Mother by several names, a few of which sound terribly foreign to us. But how often have we addressed her by her name Inay?

Through the years, Filipino composers in different local languages have written kundimans and folk songs speaking of our mothers as inay or nanay. The address itself evokes an intimacy that remains very native to us Filipinos. It evokes a certain comfort in poverty, a certain peace in times of calamity. It evokes an image of Inay waiting for us to come home after a long day, in order to calm the quickening in our hearts so that in peace, she can lead us to her Son.

- Arnel Aquino, SJ

My Sandals - Indulge Me

Indulge me. When I could walk, I enjoyed wearing heeled sandals, especially the flesh colored ones. they were flattering to the feet. I liked in particular those that closed around the ankle. Even as early as Grade 6, I had favorite adult-looking shoes which I liked wearing with my maong or corduroy mini-skirts. Okay, I liked dressing up, I still do.

Just before I was paralyzed, I had aching knees and feet that would suddenly have cramps, so I resorted to flats, which I bought in several colors. They had tiny leather ribbons on top and looked like ballet shoes, not the pointe, just the regular ballet flats. My sandals were no higher than two inches by then.

Then I was paralyzed. Initially I bought shoes that had heels but then as I no longer had control of my feet, the right foot especially would lie on its side and it was unsightly. Occasionally, I'd get shoes that were flat but as these didn't have straps, they'd shoot out of my foot and up (not that high naman) in the air when my feet became spastic or suddenly tiptoed involuntarily. In fact, during my wedding, I think a shoe came of. Shades of Cinderella, except that the prince charming who picked it up was my neurosurgeon cum godparent.

So lately, I've resorted to flat, strapped sandals. Initially I had sandals that had complex designs like banig on top and sometimes my toenails which the maid would sometimes forget to cut would be caught in them. So twice, I had blackened big toes that... do I go into details? I don't want to, I'm queasy about such things. Suffice it to say, those two nails grew back, thanks God.

And so here are my sandals. The gold one is from T Studio at Rustan's. I bought it for my wedding ninang get-up which explains why it's gold. The black pair with white beads I had made to order at Lila Almario's in Power Plant. Shop is no longer there though. I think I ordered them to wear to formal occasions with my black silk (?) pants. The rest are Grendha sandals which aren't only soft and light, but cost the least. The Grendha sandals are available in Shoe Salon. They have other nice designs, one in particular which I liked had sequins and looked very feminine. Except that these had a strap just below (across) the toes, and garters crossing at the ankle. My feet might not survive in them. But they looked really good when I saw a lady wearing them. Sigh.

My sandals:


T Studio







Grendha



Lila Almario (when my sister's friend saw this, she told my sister, "Taray naman ng sandals ng sister mo." She even took a picture of me in them.)
One of these days, if I have reason to, I want to try Solea sandals. They also look good. But that will be a long time from now. I'm happy with what I have now.

Oh yes, when CROCS first came out and I read such favorable write-ups on them, I wanted to buy myself a pair. So we went off to Rustan's where when I saw the Crocs' uneven surface, I thought this might damage the skin of my feet. Husband said to wear socks with them but I thought these wouldn't look nice on me. So he and my son ended up buying CROCS for themselves. And I just looked at them enviously. Sigh. I wanted to look like Mario Batali or Paul Huang, chef's both with orange versions. Just kidding about looking like them, haha.

Random Musings

Last night, we went to a funeral parlor. That is my husband and his co-teacher did while I stayed in the car. Why? The deceased was in a second floor chapel, the funeral parlor didn't have an elevator. Why? Who knows?

Once when we condoled with a friend whose dad had died, he had to come down so I could talk to him. I wasn't particularly close to last night's bereaved relative, a co-teacher of my husband, so I stayed in the car. The parking lot was full of rocks, besides, so it would have been a bumpy trip to the funeral parlor.

Anyway, as I sat on the front seat of the car, I wondered if anyone saw me and thought I was a ghost. I mean, why would anyone stay inside a parked car in a funeral parlor? I wanted to take pictures but people might be alarmed: a flash coming from a parked car. Ghost na talaga yon.

So what did I do? I tried to pray the rosary but there were so many distractions. Fire truck sirens blared, for one. My thoughts also distracted me from prayer.

Was there any danger I'd die of asphyxiation? My husband opened the window by the driver's seat a bit so oxygen would filter into the car for me. No danger of carbon monoxide poisoning as he didn't leave the aircon on. For a while I frantically searched for my fan as I knew I could have had an asthma attack because of the heat, but thank God, I was all right. I waited some 30 minutes. It's not the first time I've done this.


PS: I think it's silly that the said funeral parlor has no elevator. This means that when they have to bring the dead up or down the stairs, manual labor is employed. Calls to mind Tito, Vic and Joey, maybe even Dolphy movies when the dead is accidentally spilled on the ground while being transported. What if someone carrying the coffin misses a step? Comedy...
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Saw Rene Saguisag in Serendra. He looked wan, lonely and sad. I guess it must be true what they've said: he really loved his wife. She who passed away in a vehicular accident some weeks back. Rene didn't look at all well.

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Two days ago, my sister marveled at an Henares boy who's based in the States and is actively participating in the Spelling Bee. When she mentioned that the Lola was a Jalbuena, it called to mind a story when I was teaching 27 years ago. You see, the said Lola was the principal's secretary and one of her tasks was to type the exam questions. The English teacher told us that whenever her prepared exam had a section where the students were supposed to correct errors in a sentence, she had to review the typed version well as the secretary would sometimes correct the errors. So this feat of her grandson comes as no surprise. It's in the genes.
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Getting a passport or government service in the Philippines is one for the books. My son embarked on getting one yesterday, but before he left for the Department of Foreign Affairs, I called up the trunk line to ask up till when applications could be made. The operator said, 2 pm.

So my husband and son left for the DFA. They were there before 2 but the guard told them, the applications were closed at 12. When I learned about this, I called DFA and this time the operator still said 2. I said, so why did they close at 12? He said, why don't you call this number and complain there? As far as I know it's 2. I scolded him saying you should know how to answer questions because it's quite a long drive from Quezon City to Roxas Boulevard. After some time, I decided to give the operator a rest and took up his suggestion to call the other number. Phone just rang and rang and rang. So I tried the other trunk line number. The operator manning the said line was better informed. He said as there were so many applicants, they closed the gates at 12. Just like that, they closed the gates at 12. Darn.

So I called Teleserv via which one can apply for a passport by phone but at 3 times the cost. Where weeks back I was told an NBI clearance was optional, the operator who answered me yesterday they were requiring it because some verifiers at DFA insisted on it. Also, where before I was told the driver's license which Teleserv needed had to be the original form, this time she said they decided a xerox copy would do. How's that for consistency?

When my husband arrived, I had him call Teleserv just so we could firm up the requirements. The one who answered his call said the NBI clearance wasn't necessary. My head was spinning from the crossed information we were getting yesterday.

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The NBI clearance. When I learned of the need for an NBI clearance, I called my son to go to city hall to get one while they were still on the road. So they went to the NBI. After some time he texted, "mama, I wasn't cleared!" I asked what crime he had committed, oh okay, what crime his namesake had committed, he said he didn't know. Crazy no? The NBI saw he had a different middle name from the lawbreaker plus a different address, but he wasn't cleared. Family name too common, he was told. So he'll have to go back to the NBI for his clearance on 14 January. Years back, when my husband applied for a police clearance, he wasn't cleared either. A namesake was listed as a criminal.

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Thank God for online translators

The comment to the blog previous to this was in a foreign tongue. I shared it with my husband and son and they said it was possibly in Portuguese. The comment was flattering but earlier, I had already accessed the said site and while the comment sounded flattering and like it came from one person, when I checked it was an Internet site. So somehow, there appeared something wrong there. Something incongruous.

True enough, when I had the comment translated in babelfish as my son suggested, it was very complementary. We then went to the site to copy a portion of it for translation and true enough, it was an internet site offering DSL services or something.

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts is a quote worth remembering at all times. I'll put the post here, the translation and what the site said and its translation.

The comment: Gostei muito desse post e seu blog é muito interessante, vou passar por aqui sempre =) Depois dá uma passada lá no meu site, que é sobre o CresceNet, espero que goste. O endereço dele é http://www.provedorcrescenet.com . Um abraço.

The translation: I very liked this post and its blog is very interesting, goes to pass for here always =) Later gives passing back in my site, that is on the CresceNet, waits that it likes. The address of it is http://www.provedorcrescenet.com. One I hug.

what the website says it is about:O CresceNet é um provedor de internet que remunera financeiramente seus usuários. Exatamente isso que você leu, estão pagando para você conectar. O provedor CresceNet, paga 20 centavos por hora de conexão discada com ligação local para mais de 2100 cidades. Possui um acelerador de conexão, que deixa sua conexão até 10 vezes mais rápida. Quem utiliza banda larga pode lucrar também, basta se cadastrar no CresceNet e quando for dormir conectar por discada, é possível pagar a ADSL só com o lucro da discada. Nos horários de pulso único o gasto com telefone é mínimo e a remuneração do CresceNet generosa. Não perca esta oportunidade. Clique aqui e comece a lucrar com o CresceNet agora mesmo.

The translation: The CresceNet is an InterNet supplier that remunerates financially its users. Accurately this that you read, is paying you to connect. The CresceNet supplier, paid 20 cents for the moment of connection dialed with local linking for more than 2100 cities. It possesss a connection accelerator, that leaves its faster connection up to 10 times. Who uses broad band can also profit, is enough to register in cadastre itself in the CresceNet and when it will be to sleep to connect for dialed, it is possible to pay the ADSL alone with the profit of the dialed one. In the schedules of only pulse the expense with telephone is minimum and the remuneration of the generous CresceNet. It does not lose this chance. Click and starts here to profit right now from the CresceNet.