O Life, How Cruel Thou Art

Life can be cruel.

In the wee hours of this morning, I was again reminded of this fact—not that it is something we need to be reminded of.

And so, as Roger Federer lifted his record 15th Grand Slam trophy up for all the 15,000 (and more around the world) Wimbledon crowd to behold—everyone, including the champion was keenly aware of the man with the backwards cap, silent, head bowed, lips grim, loosely holding the runner up plate.

After over 4 hours of tightly-contested, nail-biting, cardiac-arrestable tennis, the victor was—the usual suspect. From Fed’s point of view—one could say that he only proved to all and sundry that he is a true champion—one who knew how to fight like there was no tomorrow even when it seemed like doom was inevitable. Alas, some storylines give you all the drama of twists and turns, only to end predictably.

Alas for Roddick. He fought with courage—it was true grit in action. A lesser man would have just thrown in the towel halfway through the 5th set--and be consoled by the fact that he did try his best. But fought he did, with all his might but still he lost.

The problem with tennis is that it is a lot more like life than Hollywood: The brave David-warrior does not always win his war against Goliath-gladiator.

But just like life—tennis is unpredictable. And unpredictability can bring with it, hope.

Oh the drama! No wonder I am in love with tennis.

Disappointment with a capital R

Oh well, disappointments are supposedly to make us not take life's joys for granted.

Sigh.

"...it's unfortunate. I'm sad for him, because it must have been a very difficult decision to make." - RF on Rafa Nadal's withdrawal from Wimbledon due to injury.

Nice to know Roger feels the same way. :)

I *heart* the Jeepney

Arghh…there’s too much negativity going around these days. Let’s talk about something fun! How about...


...the good ol’ iconic jeepney!

Something about this WWII army vehicle-inspired speeding piece of tin makes me feel sentimentally patriotic.

In the jeepney, you get to literally rub elbows (and upper arms, legs, feet, bum—you know what I mean) with pinoys from all walks of life. The nervous young man checking to make sure he has all the papers needed to get that overseas job on the luxury liner. The heavy set, well-coiffed-by-a-gallon-of-hairspray woman furiously fanning herself as her make up melts in the heat. The harried looking mom scolding her sulking daughter who forgot to bring her baon. The driver loudly swapping querida stories with his conductor in Cebuano. The irritated old man trying to avoid being suffocated by an oblivious young lady’s long hair streaming relentlessly towards him (obviously not a scene for shampoo commercials!).

In the jeepney, you get to feel all sorts of emotions. You are touched when a man quickly decides to get off earlier so the old lady with her heavy basket can have his seat. You see your life flash before your eyes as your speeding jeep misses a rampaging bus by an inch. You are on the verge of violence when a lady squeezes herself behind you to take the seat nearest the exit—when there’s nobody else in the jeep—so she can get you to pass her fare to the driver. Grrrr. You keep yourself from laughing out loud when you see your tanned, tough-looking jeepney driver admiring his newly-manicured nails (painted with clear nail polish)—but of course, checking them out the manly way, that is, fingernails curled inwards and not splayed out!

In the jeepney, you experience the ebb and flow of Pinoy life. When election comes, they’re bound to be plastered with election stickers of their favorite candidate (I swear I saw "FPJ in 2010!"). If you don’t have a TV at home (like me), don’t worry, the jeepneys will blast your ears off with the latest dance music that’s hit the popular TV shows. You know that life is really hard when the driver and a passenger are red in the face quarreling over whether he should pay P10 or P11.

Of course, if you are a foreigner new to the Philippines, a jeepney will orient you to Filipino culture by instructing you: that drivers are sweet lovers; barya lang sa umaga (pay with loose change in the morning), that you should “full” the string to stop; that only those named Judas do not pay their fare--and God knows who they are; that jeepneys are owned by people named Jun-jun, Ging-Ging, Au-au and Mak-mak; pangit ang dumidikit (those who tailgate are ugly).

By looking at the jeepneys’s artwork, you discover that Filipinos are spiritual (eg. painting of Virgin Mary, Bible verses spelled out all around the jeepney’s ceiling, the rosary dangling from the rearview mirror); that we love all things foreign (eg. Mickey Mouse, Garfield, Japanese Manga, the American flag and the Mercedes Benz symbol installed in the hood); and of course, that despite the state we are in, we are still proud of our country (eg. white sand beaches, Mt Mayon, Banaue Rice Terraces)

No other portrays life in the Philippines like the jeepney—the scary parts, the beautiful side, the sad moments, and the funny bits.

So, what do you love about the Philippines?

Okey, Fine, I am Happy for Roger.

My feelings for Roger Federer have always been a bit ambiguous. Partly because I root for Rafa, and partly because he can sometimes be arrogant and a sore loser. But seeing him crying tears of joy as he held on tightly to that French Open trophy which had eluded him for four long years, you can’t help but feel happy for the guy.

I guess there’s something in each of us that makes us understand in a kindred sort of way, how it would feel like to finally achieve what we have long worked for or to see an almost impossible dream suddenly fulfilled.

Even if you are not a tennis fan, I am sure that you can at least relate to that feeling, right?

Allez, Roger…until Wimbledon.

Back from AWOL

Some things you just don’t see coming. In my case, I didn’t see blogworld AWOL coming--but it did. The next thing I knew, its been six months since I last posted anything. How did that happen? Well, lots of things happened (and other internet distractions didn't help), like…

-Surviving a long, intense meeting before Christmas.
-Realizing that my nieces have grown a couple of inches taller in my absence.
-Having a few gallons of coffee (in total) with friends over Christmas.
-Crying my eyes out watching Kite Runner and A Mighty Heart back to back.
-Starting a new year’s resolution of keeping track of my spending on Excel (I’ve been good and relatively stingy since!)
-Witnessing The Might Federer sobbing and being comforted by his rival Rafa Nadal.
-Facebooking.
-Stepping on Cambodian soil for the first time.
-Looking like a dust ninja while hanging on for dear life in a Siem Reap Tuk Tuk ride.
-Waiting for flights in different airports.
-Meetings and meetings and oh yeah, meetings.
-Finally seeing my cute bald-headed Irish nephew in person.
-Crying my eyes out (again) reading Khaled Husseini's Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns.
-Being treated to a Japanese Onsen in Los Banos for my birthday.
-Having to pick up my jaw from the floor after watching “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.”
-Marathoning through facilitating two-week long workshops.
-Having my bones cracked by a chiropractor for a whole month.
-Discovering my ADD tendencies after a psychological testing (a non-surprise).
-Borrowing a stranger’s cellphone to make a call in Tokyo.
-Discovering I missed blogging.
-Scouring 100 Yen stores.
-Ordering food on my own in a Tokyo fastfood joint (point of pride)
-Having to correct my tendency to refer to myself in the third person (no thanks to Facebook!)
-Sleeping in a hut and waking up to a refreshing view of ricefields.
-Suffering from sunburned knees in Boracay (long story).
-Trying to stay sane and steady as the erratic nature of my life caught up with me.
-Finally around to worship at my church in Manila, which I direly missed.
-Wondering how my blogfriends are doing.
-Enjoying good conversations with taxi drivers on my numerous rides to and from the airport.
-Spending a rare FULL day at home and bonding with my house.
-Helping a friend choose a wedding gown design through YM.
-Finally finishing Season 7 of 24.
-Found out that almost all my recently read books have Boarding Passes for bookmarks.
-Amazed at having teenagers pour their hearts out to me—at first meeting!
-Bumping into so many long lost friends on Facebook.
-Being shocked speechless at Rafa Nadal’s French Open loss. (yup, that was the sound of my heart breaking...)
-Missing Davao.
-Surrendering to a pint of Selecta Gold Chocolate Truffle.
-Having Lectio Divina with a good friend through Skype.
-Deciding to get back to blogging. :)

Peppered on these are good conversations, new friends made and the usual highs and lows of life and work. I was often “seized” with eye-opening insights that I should have taken time to blog about. If the past 6 months is anything to go by—there is much to blog about and look forward to in the latter half.

What were the highlights of the past 6 months for you?

In Love, All Over Again

Before you jump into conclusions, this has nothing to do with the previous post, but everything to do with a book called The Shack.

My friends who have read the book, say the title with a touch of reverence and with eyes opened just a bit wider. And almost always, there’s this nanosecond pause before saying the title, like so: “Have you read…The Shack?”

If that doesn’t get you curious, then nothing would!

At first glance, the cover didn’t help. How warm and inviting is a picture of a lonely old run-down hovel that has seen better days—probably decades ago? To make it less inviting, it is dark and in the dead of winter. Only after I read the whole thing did I take a second look at the cover and notice the hint of something more inviting, more promising.

But the hint of something promising I saw in the eyes of those who have read it was enough to make me curious. So when I was lent a copy, I jumped on it—and so started the journey of falling in love all over again.

Peeking through the first pages of the book, I felt a little bit like Lucy Pevensie when she first opened that old creaky door of The Wardrobe, fumbled through the dark musty closet and suddenly found herself in breathtakingly beautiful Narnia.

What could be beautiful about a story of a father, Mackenzie Allen Philips, who lost his daughter in a tragic and cruel way? The cruelty I read in the first few chapters of the book made me want to quit—it was too painful and stirred up in me an anger that made me forget I was reading fiction. There are enough real-life situations to make one realize this is not just something that only happens in a book.

Yet, to stop reading almost meant leaving a gaping wound open. I had to read through to find my closure. And so throughout the book, I journeyed with Mack. I felt with him his barren loneliness, numbed defeat, bitter bewilderment, stark pain, heart-stopping surprise and later, unspeakable joy.

It showed me a different side of grief, and a refreshing view of The One Person who always gets the blame for every wrong thing in this world. The book showed me how in a wonderfully miraculous way, God upends what man meant for ugliness and evil and turn it into something beautiful and good. It also impressed upon me once again that no-holds-barred love that God has for a stubborn bunch of humans—so much so that He would sacrifice His own power and open Himself up to pain and suffering.

The ironic thing when I was reading this book and almost literally seeing lightbulbs turning on in my mind—is that it is nothing new. The truths are ancient. I read them over and over again in the Good Old Book. Yet being a dulled-by-too-much-hi-tech-entertainment Gen Xer, it took The Shack to take the thickening cataracts off my eyes and see the Bible for what it is, and see God for who He is.

And so I have fallen in love all over again.

I invite you to do the same.

===
P.S. I have since bought my own copy of The Shack. It is cheaper at National Bookstore than at Powerbooks. *grin*

Matchmaker, matchmaker...

Joyce is a happily married mother of one. She met her husband through a matchmaking aunt who spotted her busily organizing an event in Davao. Not that Joyce is hard to spot—she is charming and vivacious—not to mention, pretty!

So she is a strong believer of matchmaking as a very valid, very effective way of finding The One. Not that she has actually hit the jackpot in that area—well, she did when she met her hubby—but I am talking about her own matchmaking attempts.

I once asked her, teasingly, “Aren’t you a bit discouraged that none of your matchmaking attempts have succeeded?”

Her reply? “Not at all! In fact, I am all the more challenged!”

That’s one of the reasons why she is one of my closest friends—her never-say-die attitude towards life, and her active desire for others to get the best out of life (marriage being just one of them).

I say active because she goes all out in helping others. Generous to a fault, she gives of her time in an unbelievable way. As if she is not busy enough with her work and her many ministry projects and preaching assignments, she would go out of her way to do things for friends, spend quality time on the phone with those who need wise advise or just a listening ear, and this is on top of family time. I sometimes find myself catching my breath for her sake as she talks to me about what she has been doing the past week. That is why I treasure all the more the Saturdays we spend together—talking, praying, sometimes crying and often laughing.

She is probably the only one who, aside from my mom and one other friend, I don’t actually mind fussing over me. But more than being the concerned mom, she has been a great friend in both rainy days and sunny ones. She cries with me and laughs with me—always ready to listen even when she has her own pressures that she needs to unburden. My eyes well up as I write this, because I remember those times when I badly needed someone to simply talk to and she, the ever busy mom, would go the extra mile—offering not just a shoulder to cry on but even opening her home to me as a haven to stay, rest, reflect or mend my wounds.

But aside from the rough patches, the sunny days are a joy to share with her as well. She can outtalk me, out-strategize, and outwit me at the best of times. Her charms border to legendary—how she manages to get people to do things for her is sometimes unbelievable. From her, I learn that charm goes a longer way that intimidation or anger. From her, I learn to make sure I don’t come out of the house looking like my passport photo. From her I learn how to handle sticky situations with wisdom and grace.

It has been 8 years now since I really got to know her. When I first came to Manila to work 8 years ago, she being a former churchmate from Davao who I didn’t really know very well, called up to ask me what I need and made herself available for me as I settled myself to city life. And since she is the kind of person that walks the extra mile, it was easy to see how our friendship deepened from there.

Being a matchmaker, of course, she just had to try her hand on me. And being a good friend, I just had to gamely play along! But this is one attempt I think she has given up on—though, to be fair, she has not given up praying!

It should assure her to know that even if she has not yet found success in the matchmaking department—unlike in all other areas—she has actually succeeded in one area that matters more to me—a good match of a friendship.

----



Thank you, Jenny for tagging me to write about a gift of grace. It has been a joy to write about Joyce!

Who is the person that you consider God’s gift of grace to you? I am asking this question to: Marilyn, Jophen, and Major Tom.

1. Put the logo in your blog.

2. Share a short story of someone whose life touched yours.

3. Add a link to the person who shared it with you.

4, Tag at least 3 other persons with blogs.

5. Leave a message on their blogs.

One of Those (Good) Days

You know when you have one of those days that you want to put in a bottle, save it for a rainy day pick-you-upper?

Today was one of those days. I slept in and the light rain outside made it cooler than most days and all the more comfortable to snuggle up for another hour of lying in.

I woke up to a still day: no children hollering outside, no carpenters hammering away, no radio blaring news of doom. I curled up with a cup of coffee, reading The Shack, where I am half way—and in a weird way, something in the book reminded me of the two boxes that I had shipped back from the UK, which was due a few days ago. It had been niggling at the back of my mind—with my imagination running wild, something from The Shack stopped me from my imaginings and caused me to just say a short prayer, leaving everything to God. And on I went with my reading.

An hour or so later, what do you know? The boxes arrived! And at just the right time—that is, me being actually home (a rare event) to personally receive it.

I spent part of the afternoon “reuniting” with my stuff from the UK, including a bunch of dried lavenders I picked from the school gardens—now I can enjoy a whiff of the England summer in my Manila abode.

Then it was off to meet up with a friend at the mall (in a taxi with the driver actually giving me back my change…!) for a cheesy movie followed by a simple dinner and good conversation. Then to our pleasant surprise, a live wind orchestra was playing at the mall’s activity center. And so we sat enjoying coffee with the orchestra playing Beatles, Abba, Miss Saigon music, movie soundtracks and Christmas carols.

Now I’m back home and have just successfully assembled a nice lamp I bought in the UK and enjoying its warm glow while listening to quiet music and writing this piece.

If you think of it, there was nothing earthshakingly fantastic about today. But I think of this day as one of those small “bottled” treats tucked in unexpected nooks and crannies of life’s road to help us along in the journey. They could be something as simple as enjoying a bowl of Lucky Me Pancit Canton while reading greetings from long lost friends on my Facebook wall or chatting away ‘til past midnight with a friend on YM.

I am grateful that the Father knows enough to keep these “treats” sweet and simple, lest this pilgrim takes it all for granted and sets too high a bar on contentment.

The grass on my side of the fence is green!

The Big Four

It seems to be tagging season again! And so typical of me, I take (too) long to get to them...no wonder it took more than a year for me to get tagged again! Anyway, Major Tom has not lost faith in me in the tagging department, so he tagged me with four questions.

4 Things Meme

Here’s the rule:

Click copy/paste, type in your answers and tag four people in your blogroll! Don’t forget to change my answers to the questions with that of yours.

Question # 1. Four places I go to over and over:
Office, Megamall, my Prayer Partner's house on Saturdays and Davao...!


Question # 2. Four people who e-mail me regularly
Hmmm...come to think of it, with the advent of YM and Skype, I think I should change the question to four people I YM/Skype regularly! So with that, it's Marilyn, Bebbs, Beng, and Rita.


Question # 3. Four of my favorite places to eat?
McDonalds (for spaghetti and Longganisa Meal), Kalye Juan (for their palabok and breakfast fares), Likha Diwa sa Gulod (at Krus na Ligas , UP), Davao's Penong's (Chicken BBQ) and...I could go on and on (I will have to do a few posts on food pretty soon..)


Question # 4. Four places you’d rather be?
Davao, Baguio, Thailand, and Palawan (the forth one's an unfulfilled dream)


Question #5. Four TV shows I could watch over and over.
Third Rock from the Sun, Bubble Gang, 24, Without a Trace

Okey,your turn: Aleks, Abaniko, Single Guy, and Lazarus.

The Pink Sisterhood Meme

I've not been tag in ages so I'm happy to be tagged again after a long time, by Leah and Janeser for a good cause, that is--focusing on Breast Cancer Awareness and how important it is to catch it in the early stages.



* One in eight women or 12.6% of all women will get breast cancer in her lifetime.
* Breast cancer risk increases with age and every woman is at risk.
* Every 13 minutes a woman dies of breast cancer.
* Seventy-seven percent of women with breast cancer are over 50.
* Breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer death in women between the ages of 15 and 54, and the second cause of cancer death in women 55 to 74.
* Risks for breast cancer include a family history, atypical hyperplasia, early menstruation (before age 12), late menopause (after age 55), current use or use in the last ten years of oral contraceptives, and daily consumption of alcohol.
* Early detection of breast cancer, through monthly breast self-exam and particularly yearly mammography after age 40, offers the best chance for survival.
Facts taken from Women’s Health

And now here is the tag and the rules:
1. Put the logo in your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who shared it with you.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4. Add your link to the list of participants below
5. Leave a message for your nominee on their blog.

1. Fara 2. Massy 3. N.O.Y. 4. Maruica 5. A Great Pleasure 6. Lady Java 7. Kim 8. Pink Thoughts 9. Turn-U-Off 10. Roxiticus 11. Stay At Home Mom 12. Fida Abott 13. href="http://alsomommy.blogspot.com/">Also Mommy 14. Janice Ng 15. Juliana 16. The Painted Veil 17. Heart of Rachel 18. Mga Muni Muni 19. Gypsy 20. YOU

I am tagging:
1. Beng
2. Jenny
3. Verns
4. Annamanila
5. Carlotta

Just one of those days...

By the time I saw my long lost uncle with his son in the crowded fruit section of SM megamall, it was too late to turn around and duck behind the pineapples. I knew by the direction of his eyes that it would just be a split second before he spots me. So I brave a delighted smile on my face and wave, “Uncle!”

As expected, the look he gave me was a cross between being pleasantly surprised and mildly exasperated. The last time we saw each other was gazillions of months ago at his daughter’s wedding. And even then, while he was enjoying the role of the proud father of the bride, he looked at me with mild exasperation.

Nothing has changed. For both sides, I guess. He is still mildly exasperated with this wandering gypsy of a niece who should set her priorities straight, get a life and settle down. I am still the wandering gypsy of a niece who has a life and probably may not settle for anything less than a better life than the one she already is enjoying!

True enough, the usual, almost one-sided conversation ensued,

“So where have you been these days?”

“Singapore? Thailand?”

“Oh, you just came back from the UK?”

“Right!”

“No nice guys there?”

“Didn’t find any?”

As I gritted my teeth and smilingly replied to his questions and found a nice opening to say goodbye, I braced myself for the final usual goodbye my Uncle gives me.

“Get married! Okey? Don’t wait too long!”

So, off I went. Back to my lonely, rootless, crazy life—my uncle must presume.

However much I enjoy my own company, his exasperation put a damper on my good mood that day, which I spent on my own--having just left a friend right before I saw my uncle. It’s not that I don’t appreciate his concern, however misplaced it is. I do. But what gets me is me. Why do I get upset just because I cannot please him? Why do I let it affect me?

But hey, that’s life, eh? You can’t please everyone—whether you’re married or single, fat or thin, tall or short, somebody’s bound to have an opinion.

So long as I am fulfilling His (He not being my uncle…) purposes in my life, I am fine.

I will be fine.

And so will my uncle.

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. )

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!

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...

What A Difference A Year Makes

One year. Exactly. That’s how long I was in the UK. At this day and age of serial movies shown in yearly installments, a year can b a very short span of time. But it can be a long time as well, like when you watch how babies go from sleeping to crawling to talking. A year is also enough for me to enjoy certain experiences I would never have had if I stayed in the Philippines.

Even after being back for the last three weeks, I can still see myself in my mind’s eye running down the college corridor, chatting with my friends in the student kitchen, walking down the streets and feeling the chill in the air. These were routine stuff I did in one year, but there was also the one year’s worth of experiences—loads of them:

--like missing the train, twice.
--like getting locked in twice and locked out once.
--like trying my hand at cricket
--like trying my foot at football
--like obsessing about tennis
--like watching the whole FIFA season with an amazingly diverse crowd of nationalities in one year (most of which find them cheering for their own countries from the TV room)
--like successfully teaching my African classmates how to cook rice from a pot without burning it.
--like watching a whole game of rugby (icky)
--like whipping up a five-course dinner on my birthday (I never thought I could do that!)
--like picking up a bit of the Irish accent.
--like getting snowbound in winter and missing my flight.
--like developing deep and hopefully lasting friendships that will have to be maintained through skype or SMS.

..the list goes on.

But those are about me. Coming back, I realized that a lot of good and bad things have happened to friends and loved ones.

--like a worrying number of friends or their loved ones diagnosed with cancer, with a few having passed away after a short bout of chemo;
--like colleagues who have celebrated new life
--like colleagues who have left their jobs
--like friends who celebrated milestones
--like friends who have enjoyed new additions in their families through adoption
--like friends who have fallen in love
--and some who have gotten married.
--like some who have moved away
--like neighbors who have returned.

…the list goes on.

Thankfully, some things remain the same, like good friends, good food, and good ol’ Manila--still as noisy, as riotous, as fun, as crowded, as dirty, as in-your-face as ever.

All this in a year.

I still can’t quite make up my mind if it is too short or too long. Can you?

Frustrated to the Nth Degree

I STILL DO NOT HAVE INTERNET CONNECTION.

Grrr.....

Of Tears and Goodbyes

I must be getting old.

I read a goodbye card today from a good friend and was surprised at the tears that suddenly sprung up! It has been ages since I cried saying goodbye. The last time I did, I distinctly remembered it, simply because it seldom happens to me. This is not to say that I have a heart of stone—though I have been (unfairly, though teasingly) accused at times by people who don’t really know me. I guess the reason why I don’t break down into tears whenever I say goodbye is because…hmmm….come to think of it, I also don’t know why exactly. The reason must be hidden deep in the inner recesses of the subconscious. But just because I am hard put to think of a reason doesn’t mean I don’t know what the reasons are not.

Not crying my goodbyes doesn’t mean:

--I can’t wait to get away from this person/place.

--I don’t value the friendship and the time spent with this person/place.

--I am cold and unfeeling.

--I only have shallow, inconsequential relationships where goodbyes have no impact.

--my heart is not right.

--I have no tear ducts.

--I have some deep psychological issues about attachments.

--I don’t need anyone.

--I am impatient to move on (which some of you might have an impression of after this post).

--I don’t care enough.

Well, I guess that’s enough negatives for one post. Anyway, it seems things have changed. Age supposedly does that to you. Well, the fact that I have to stretch my hand out further just to read something clearly should prove the age theory. Figuratively, this might be true as well for goodbyes—the further a memory gets, the clearer it might become.

Go figure.

SO VERY VERY PROUD!!!

I am posting this with a stupid grin on my face which I cannot, for the life of me, wipe off. This is because of three important things:

First, I FINISHED MY DISSERTATION--every single one of the 18,000 words has been spelled out (correctly, I hope) and typed in. Now I can slowly get myself out of the landslide of books that I have been buried under. The thing is I have yet to give it to my supervisor for a final look through but since he has been looking at bits and pieces of it over the past couple of months, my guess is that it shouldn't take too much tweaking. (fingers crossed).

Secondly, I AM A PROUD IRISH AUNT!! My closest friends here are a young Irish couple. Husband Mark woke me up at 6:30 this morning with a call to say that Rachel has given birth to a bouncing baby boy at 530am, more than a week ahead of schedule! Ohhhh...I am so unbelievably chuffed and so deeply touched that I was one of the first to be informed...how I sooo wish I can just hop on a plane to Belfast and see my Irish nephew in person. I'm sure he will look like me, what with amount of Chinese food his mom has been eating with me this past year!

Thirdly, and this is actually not my achievement. Rafa Nadal is the world's no. 1!! Yes, after that historic 5-hour match at Wimbledon this year, I have become a bonafide fan of this 22-year-old tennis wonder from Spain. French Open champion four times in a row, then Wimbledon (beating the mighty Federer on grass) and an Olympic Gold. "Wow" is an understatement, si?

Okey, so I am slowly coming back...but this last week will be a whirlwind of tying up loose ends, saying goodbye, sorting, packing and all the "regular" stuff a gypsy's gotta do--will squeeze time to slowly get back to the blog community and visit all of you soon, thank you so so much for your comments and visits even when I have not been coming over to your place these past months. Appreciate you all very much!

Just a Wee Distraction...

It is cloudy and raining outside…the usual, unpredictable British summer. The college corridors and halls are empty of the usual hustle and bustle of students rushing to classes or pulling tricks on each other. I am holed up in the library, trying to focus on my dissertation but really, looking for some distraction.

During term time, it was so easy to get distracted, what with nosey students plopping into a seat beside you and offering food or just "good banter," as the Brits would say. I thought to myself then how much work I could do when I have no more distractions. Now with the rain outside, there is no sun to lure me out—there goes another distraction. How ideal is this to settle down and get some work done!

Hah. Famous last words.

And now, having made myself a cup of tea, and having chatted with a friend back home who happens to be on line, I need to settle down and work and what do I do? Blog!! Oh well, the spirit is willing but the flesh is--otherwise!

Hauling myself into the library was suppose to get me all disciplined and productive but in the end, whatever I do won't get me working---I will just have to simply force myself to do it. As Nike wisely adviced, “Just do it!”

Right, okey, will do!!

Until the next distraction...;-)

Help. Can my 18,000-word dissertation just write itself?

PS. Still on my so-called leave. This is just a--er--distraction. So I will still be scarce in the blogosphere.

Cheers, mates!

On Temporary Leave

Excuse me, folks, I don't think I have much good will and cheer to spread around these days. But instead of coming up with a whine list (and I could give you a really long one!), I will just go off line...for now, and besides I have gazillion-word essays to write, so....pray for me!!

I wonder what I ate that day I decided to go back to school?!

Oh well, will miss bloghopping for now.

******
Let me just leave you with this verse from the Bible I read this morning:

"The Lord your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you.
He will quiet you with His love,
he will rejoice over you with singing."

Zephaniah 3:17

May this truth manifest itself in your life.

*******

Cheerio!