Monday, October 27, 2008

The Case of the Missing Links*

Is there a virtual yellow sticker tape that can be draped across this blog for the meantime while the investigation is going on? The crime being the Gypsy, in a moment of confusion, accidentally deleted the links from this blog while attempting to install a stat counter.

Initial findings show that the crime happened on October 25, between 2200-2315, Manila time. It has been determined that the links in question have been lost forever in oblivion, in the cyber black hole where all the deleted spams, email chain letters and letters from exes are forever sucked in---never to be seen again.

Meanwhile, sincere apologies are extended to the people behind the deleted links. If you can write a 500-word essay, double-spaced, explaining the benefits of your link to the cyberworld where the Gypsy is living, she will very much gladly link you back (The essay, of course, is a joke. You may write a poem instead. Or treat the Gypsy, or the policewoman, to a cup of coffee or a bar of chocolates, respectively).

*This police report written and authenticated by SPO1 Beng

(Please bear with this blog while the reconstruction---links, template, widgets---is ongoing. )

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

From ADHD Bees to Rafa

It took literally one whole day for me to get from Chiangmai to Manila but having gotten home after two back to back flights, none of which is the most comfortable in the world, I am not too obviously tired (will see later when my head hits the pillow)—my mind continues to buzz like a busy bee and it flits from one subject to another as only an ADHD bee would.

It feels like ages since I was home—having started travelling at the beginning of October to Mindanao and ending it with about a week in Chiangmai. The diversity of faces, events and the variety of experiences, beds, food, morning rituals and conversations push and shove their way to the forefront of my thoughts, trying to grab my undivided attention—but to no avail.

What is forming before me as I try to process the past three weeks—is a monster of a to-do list: of resolutions, of projects and other to-do’s. This doesn’t include the to-do list I had already come up with after coming back from the UK.

On top of this is a pile of work that needs to be finished or followed up which I left behind at the end of September.

Theoretically, I hate the idea of busy-ness and so wish in my heart of hearts that life be less frantic, less toxic; more an amble rather than a sprint but hey, reality in this day and age seems to disagree.

The thing is, I did say theoretically—meaning, I have yet to experience a lifestyle that requires only ambling. Who’s to say I would actually prefer it? Would I end up climbing walls and go numb with boredom? Or would I bask in it and gleefully stop and smell every flower along the way?

A matter of conjecture at this point.

I wonder when it will be tested and proven--or disproved.


On a different note, coming home also meant catching up on what I’ve missed of the Madrid Masters. Weird. The last time I was interested in tennis was during Pete Sampras’ heyday and even then, hadn’t been a real follower. Until this year’s Wimbledon and I am converted for real. Thanks mostly to the Rafa-Roger phenomenal rivalry which has all the ingredients of a great drama. But aside from that, what fascinated me all the more are the different personalities that make up the tennis world and the fact that most players, though they may brutally demolish each other on court, can be such humble gentlemen off court. Exhibit A is Andy Murray’s humble pronouncements after beating THE Roger Federer (making his head to head record against Roger 3-2) and going on to win the championship—no chest-beating a la Usain Bolt in tennis, which is nice to see.

Anyway, I am happy to find out that a certain Spanish tennis player will still be able to maintain the number one spot by the end of the year. Too bad he lost at the semis to Gilles Simon but as always, he takes losing like the class act that he is. If at all possible, I hope that next year, this charismatic yet humble, well-brought-up young man will be able to top the fantastic 2008 year that he had—and deserved. But hey, the year’s not over yet, there’s still Paris, Shanghai and Davis Cup! Weee! Vamos Rafa!

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Never Too Old...

I got sick recently. With the number of bienvenida meals I ate my way through when I visited Davao, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my tummy went on a gastric strike! So there I was on my last day home in Davao, horizontal and having to cancel three more bienvenida eat outs, and the all-important date with my favorite hairdresser.

The gastric pains woke me up in the wee hours and had me groping in the darkness of my mom’s house for the medicine box where different meds where neatly labeled and contained in different plastic packets. As I chewed on an antacid and got back to bed, I had to resist the temptation to crawl into bed with my mom---and wake her up to tell her I was sick.

I wondered about that.

Having already taken an antacid, what was the point of waking my mom up? What did I expect her to do anyway? She ain’t no doctor—-neither is she a miracle worker.

Late that morning, my stomach still thumping painfully on all sides, I moaned to my mom, “I’m sick. I just took an antacid.” She looked at me and said, “Oh, okey.” I felt a bit let down—and then I thought, what did I expect? I already told her I took an antacid, so that means it is being taken care of, doesn’t it?

I have been sick many times, and usually there was no mom around since I’ve been away from home most of my life. I’ve coped with it well enough and only very occasionally with self-pity.

Yet the mere fact that mom was nearby seemed to change my whole psyche—and I guess for someone my age—(shhh..don’t ask!)it is as surprising as it is strange! I was going to say pathetic, but I don’t see how wishing for a mother’s TLC could be pathetic. Come to think of it, it's probably one of the most natural things in the world, now having said that—I guess the other times when I have coped easily without crying out for my mom must probably be the more strange and surprising thing!

For the record, my mom didn’t fuss over me, she never does, all she did was nod to affirm that I did the right thing by taking an antacid. I guess that was all I needed. I guess what mattered most to me then was her presence. It was enough to help ease some of the pain—even if it is more psychologically than actually.

What power a mother holds. Come to think of it, moms are miracle workers in their own way!

**Sorry blogpals for being amiss in going about my blog rounds...been travelling again and internet availability is intermittent..I wrote this one yesterday, during a mind-numbing, wifi-less, seven-hour wait at an airport...