yes, a pen and paper

i saw the sun rise today and it compelled me to write.

but what is there to write about?
maybe if i pay more attention to the view outside the window
or watch more sunrises, i would know.
instead, i almost always choose to play jewels on train rides.

still.
here i am really wanting to write.
so.
bear with me as my hand is hoping (or willing) my brain to write.

it's been a long while.

reality bites back harder

being a mom is an exercise of humility --- i make decisions for another life and with that comes wrong ones. most of these mistakes now, my son would not even count against me.

being in the hospital for the 5th day now, i got excited to be able to put on a proper top for galak. i wasn't thinking that he would struggle, as he always does, when being dressed. the cannula came off. the cannula that was painstakingly put in. that i watched put in, in wretched state. 3 times in 5 days. and i heralded the looming 4th one.

the nurse told me casually, "you win some, you lose some". that encouraged me to move on.

moving on, i think about the mistakes, the carelessness and the stupid things i am yet to make as a mom. i pray that none will ever cost my child his life.

humbled, i am reminded again, that nothing is beyond God's grace. i have put this child through a lot and he is only 11 weeks old. he has put up with everything graciously, so far. neither wise nor learned, i pray that God will enable me and sustain me and teach me to forgive myself as i go along.

i need wisdom to hasten to me.

miss diagnosis

for someone who has been living life with reckless abandon
chancing upon fear can be very confusing
i have never looked at fear eye to eye
heck, i never even bothered to look

it had been an uneventful pregnancy
then at 29 weeks, bang
blood pressure was on the rise
and the trend is only going up

my 8-day stint at the hospital was alright
i enjoyed the hot showers and free food and lodging
i was basking in the climate-controlled private room of a public hospital
and i didn't have to pay for medical care

yes, i had been told day in and day out i will deliver prematurely
be transferred to another hospital more equipped to handle my case
and the meds seemed like placebo, (still fear wasn't there)
increase in dosage and variety didn't improve my blood pressure

last saturday though, i was finally sent home, to my delight
then, fear sank in --- what if i am going to have a still-born baby?
now i know fear can be gripping
at least it stopped me on my tracks

might be the triple meds made me more than just drowsy
as nightmares came and went, so did restful sleep
i fancy death, too much personally maybe
but not for the child i am carrying...

i dreaded sleeping as i dreaded waking up
the thought of hospital care brought shivers
i began to imagine the symptoms that weren't there
and oh, if only the baby would move regularly

today's scan was acceptable enough
for the doctor to let me keep the baby another day
3 weeks ago, the doctors weren't expecting me to reach 32 weeks
32 weeks IS tomorrow

i left the hospital feeling less dread, more hope
so this is how it is, living a day at a time
which is a reminder that God wants my complete dependence
my life is His, so is the baby's --- i keep on forgetting

maybe i will reach full term, maybe not
but that doesn't seem to matter now
what i hold on to is God's goodness and grace
despite my faithlessness

i think i am getting used to the meds now
because i am back to feeling well again
and i actually welcome the aches and pains on the side
because they mean my tummy (and baby) is still growing

it is nice to know fear
but nicer to know that God has grips on my life
may i live the rest of my life in reckless abandon still
and may my child choose to live each day of his

mum's the word

motherhood
i signed up for it
my application is now being processed

i am pregant
at 16 weeks gestation
and i realise one starts to become a mother not with the birth of one's child
but when one finds out she is pregnant with a child

it is a very challenging role
and like all others, i didn't expect anything at all
which is wise and unwise at the same time

i initially detested the physical intrusions
i felt tired most days
then there's nausea to deal with
and not wanting to eat but having to eat "for the baby"

now those days are theoretically over
i can see myself physically changing though
my waist widening, my tummy firming up and bulging out more
itches here, aches there
my work slacks are slowly getting tight
and chill autumn winds make it not so nice to wear skirts

the list of inconveniences can go on
there's the emotional turmoil one goes through
mulling over letting go of a security blanket, could be a career
and trying to be everything the society, or magazines, dictates
and i haven't even begun pondering on the pain of childbirth...

then i heard a baby's heartbeat
inside me

now i drink milk, at least eat cereals with it
i sleep as much as i can
and pray to God to keep this life in me safe

this is living for another in a very tangible form
and i have to keep up, selfish that i am

i'd say my appreciation for motherhood changed with this pregnancy
to all the mothers whose lives i have considered and pondered upon

ongma, mama, ma, apung nene and aunts
ate wimmy, ate lei, mercy chi and ate candice
aimee, cindy, pen, jeanette and mona
mothers from dcbc, gec, hope anglican/st. paul's and vinnies

thank you

slumber party

i can be very picky with pillows
i require so much from them ---
comfortable, resilient and enduring

until last weekend, my pillows of choice would be soft, fluffy ones
however, over the years, i realised that well-used pillows
change shape and flatten out to the point of being uncomfortable
that i decided to get a firm latex pillow

he who said, "be careful what you wish for, you might just get it" was wise
but i think his wisdom didn't come with age, it came with experience

6 months had past and i am still out of work
(not really, as home duties is a full time responsibility as is
but you know what i mean)

the first 2 had been pure bliss
just the thought of getting out whole from a very stressful role
and then there was preparing for a month-long vacation to the philippines
then the month-long vacation in the philippines

the second 2 had been an agonizing wait
i applied to be admitted to a masters in public health program
and then applied to quite a number of part-time jobs to go with it
only to find out things weren't going to be as i hoped they would

these last 2 months were challenging
dealing with things of all sorts, emotions have been running amuck

once, i applied for a placement in an undergraduate public health program
there was no placement available
it took me 15 years to try again, the same results
being wounded twice in the exact same spot isn't nice at all

then comes staying at home, running a household
which i have always wanted to do if i can afford it
i got what i wanted then realised my pride couldn't afford it

i am so used to be financially independent
(read i am dependent on God alone and not to anybody else)
i seem to hate being taken out of my comfort-zone
(which isn't necessarily comfortable, come to think of it)

i guess getting what i want doesn't mean getting it in my terms
that would be too easy and that would make me bask and boast
i thank God for this

back to my latex pillow
thinking it through, there wasn't a pillow that was instantly comfortable
all took time for me to get used to
some took a while, others took almost none at all

so does change
(which almost always make me defiant
and spend a lot of time moping, whining and sulking)
but i know eventually, i will make the change mine

(i can't say the same for my latex pillow
as there's a no return no exchange policy for pillows
it is mine to begin with)

goodnight.

on to living, the second time around

first times are mostly unexpected, accidents or serendipity
reviews help in the choosing, as excerpts and covers
the allure of reading a book for the first time ---
discovery, novelty and the mystery of not really knowing what you're getting

time off from work gave me some time to give in to my book lust
happy to have finally gotten a copy of the interpreter of maladies
for 50 cents from the hurstville library annual book sale
i have also loaned the great gatsby, in large print because it's the only available copy

but this isn't about books to read
nor is this about books i read about a million times
like the little prince and the velveteen rabbit
which i find comfort in -- their simplicity never fails to perplex me

this is about the luxury of reading a book for the second time
i was surprised that it actually brings an illogical tingling sense of excitement
i can be nostalgic, i wonder what made me like something
i also think back on what i possibly missed out, but most of the time without regret

i have read the chronicles of a death foretold twice
the second time was more mindful than the first, with the intent to understand
to really listen (or read for that matter), i am glad i did

then there's catcher in the rye
which i didn't like when i read it back in highschool
it wasn't a required reading, but joel was reading it
i read it again recently
the story didn't change, but i have
this time i found it a joy to read and holden, someone to remember

i was deciding which book to read next and i was looking at my gabriels
(which thankfully ivy brought to sydney)
there are 3 books i still haven't read

settled to read one hundred years of solitude again
i would like to think of it as putting things in perspective
i need to remember what made me read him in the first place
before i start on the other 3 first-time books
as i hold it in my hands, i feel more uncertain, unsure
"what if it doesn't turn out the way i expected?"

i am suddenly reminded that nothing turns out as expected
that's why i find life so darn hard to live
the same reason why living is interesting
all the same, i want to stay alive for a moment longer to know what happens next

second times can be insightful and are far from dull
they are about deliberately wanting to, not just chancing upon
but i have to remember though, i can't always afford a repeat performance

i am busy clicking my mouse

in the meantime

i am now used to pushing the switch down to turn the lights on.

i no longer wonder what microsoft has to do with cleaning when asked "where's the powerpoint i can plug this vacuum into?"

i got the hang of riding a bus or a car and don't feel like crashing into other vehicles each time. i am especially proud that i now know which direction to look first when crossing the street.

i revel in the fact that i live with both the conveniences of a metropolis and a country home. i still find sydney beautiful, more so on a fine clear day and i enjoy the peace and quiet at nighttime. (yes, i can actually hear crickets like i used to, growing up in kidapawan and makilala.)

i am now used to people telling me my english is good but i still think i'm better off with my mouth shut: i still say "lag out" when i mean "log out" or "CrappingApp" for "CroppingApp".

i am still taxed as much as i was before but this time, i don't get taxed additionally for necessities but taxed heavily for luxuries. eating out, getting a haircut and feminine pads are taxed additionally. however, i get my thyroid meds for half the price i used to pay plus my regular visit to the doctor is free. i do not pay a premium for water, food and electricity but internet connection is a different story.

fruits abound and can be very sweet, but no mango here even comes close to the one i grew up with. i find the people kinder, (as, in my opinion, they fight lesser battles) but family and friends are still being missed.

a year has gone by and i am getting enough sleep.
God is indeed good.

just-because-i-don't-paint therapy

*

'one for the road', he'd say

as he was drinking from his cup of coffee,
he kept on seeing her.
as smoke was rising from the ashtray,
he knew he should stop.

the grass, fine and sparse, her hair
the clouds dance, her laughter
the feel of the paper cup, her unlotioned hand
the brown of the timber chair, her eyes
the coldness of the aluminum table, her goodbye

she left without turning back
not even to see the door slam behind her
she left with no trace of regret
not even for the early times they shared

he gathered the ashes that fell on the table
washed down the coffee with a cup of cold water
said his thank you to the staff
put on his bag on his shoulder then walked away
after lighting another cigarette

repeat.

eleven degrees

i am a sucker for melancholy.

i love stories that weigh much of sadness.
my choices almost always exclude stories with happy endings.

maybe because such dismal stories ring truer ---
as nothing lasts in this world.
happy endings are not really endings, they are beginnings.
but then again, despairing endings can also be seen as beginnings...

so, with nothing really settled, i still would opt for despondence.

crying brings such a relief that when a certain mood strikes me, i have 3 readily available movies i'd watch over and over:
1. The Royal Tenenbaums
2. Lost in Translation
3. 5 Centimeters Per Second
no, i don't watch them in a particular order, and definitely not watch them in one sitting.

i am reading again.

i visited one bookshop after my visit to the doctor and found J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey.
(even when i am not reading, i still enjoy going to bookshops. and if a book interests me, in one way or another, i'd buy it.)
i distinctively remember the staff, on getting my payment, telling me, "I just finished reading that one. A very good read, I'd say."

it turned out to be more than a good read:
i fell in love with the Glass family.
it somehow cast a spell on me and i'm back to reading ---
while waiting for the train, on the train, at home, even at my desk at work during lunch time.

today, on my way to work, i read "For Esmé – with Love and Squalor".
while reading it for the first time, i had the feeling of having read the story before. but i could not remember when, how, or if at all.
it moved me to melancholy as surely as eating marshmallows make me lose my appetite for a proper meal.

say "ta" for thank you

melbourne's cbd is pretty
as european city pretty, they say
i haven't been to europe so i am taking it as that.

it was warm when i flew in
and rather mild for its nasty reputation:
warm one moment then chilly the next,

it didn't send me off without showing it's true colors through
got chillier almost touching biting cold
my winter coat was handy, especially on the last week of autumn

pretty, cute, very
lovely backdrop
for maturely childish phone calls

i had a rather busy week, conversational skills put to the test
met some who said they are yet to meet someone from the phils who's not happy,
joy's the name and i am just trying to live up to it

it was a jaw dropping experience
as anyone would when stopped on a walkway by a total stranger
"you are really pretty! this is ridiculous but i just wanted to tell you that."

a new sight is a new sight
where cars are impatient and trams are determinely passive
but would rather go around by foot and be surprised.

i watched juno last night.
vanessa's compelling desire to be a a mother
and juno's courage to go through childbirth reminded me of a friend.
pen lovingly and courageously endured a couple of months of bed rest for her son.
today, she is fervently praying he will get out of the incubator soon.

love. courage. friendship. life.
celebrate with us.


Ticket prices --- 500 pesos or 200 pesos.
Depending on how much you would like to contribute.
It comes with one free drink :)

gorgeous friday

i drew this to remember the design of the swatch i am wearing.

i like to look back, to reminisce.
maybe because the past helps me make sense of the present
and makes me anticipate the future.

recently, i remembered i don't know many mothergoose rhymes.
having been born in a laid back town,
i never heard of this until i got a book from a garage sale:

A wise old owl lived in an oak.
The more he heard, the less he spoke.
The less he spoke, the more he heard.
Why aren't we all like that wise old bird?

and today i remember that Christ died so i might have life.
and He lives so i might have it in full.

thank you gmail

just when i have been musing(again) about changing careers,
i am reminded that being a web developer has its perks.
yup, i am mababaw, but these stickers made my day.

p.s. i still wonder why there isn't a tv series starring programmers.

questions to answers

regardless of my relationship with that who passed away..

news of death brings with it a respectful solemnity
a reminder that i too shall pass:
all too soon than what is hoped for
or all too late when hastening death's arrival.

then there are deaths that make me sad
usually with a tinge of regret ---
of lost chances, of opportunities not grasped
of choices not made.

ivy called to tell me of itiu's death,
an uncle who was like a second father to us.
he who was
bold in reprimanding us
wise in giving us advise knowing it would not be popular with us
fun in laughing at mistakes made
courageous in taking us to new adventures

he who had been known to fall asleep rather quickly and snored loudly -
itiu who was proud of what we have become, cheering us to continue on.
his death brought grief.

in grief i celebrate his life.

sunscreen

*

nobody really talks to oneself, his shadow always hears.

she was his shadow and she loved him.

his fascination for his shadow was shortlived.
a year or two maybe. while he was growing up and curious about everything.
however, as he grew, the ordinary things ceased to keep his attention.
he was always in pursuit of novelty.

she, however, existed only for him.

she watched him learn build cars from blocks and castles from sand;
cheered for him when he ran his first race;
loitered with him on the alley as he nervously awaited test results;
rolled with him on grass as he experienced his first kiss.

the days were hers and sunshine her kin ---
but she loved him well into the night,
even when she was no longer seen.

loose in the translation

for almost half a year, i haven't taken a bath:

"looks like you slept in josephine."
"good morning glen. nope, i just took a lazy bath."
"a bath? in the morning?"
"yup. why not?"
"one usually takes bath at night. you don't mean a shower do you?"
"a shower is a bath, isn't it?"
"a bath is when you soak in the tub."
"we don't have a tub at our place."
"you took a lazy shower josephine."
"ok then, i took a lazy shower, glen."

***

rafa is the reason i watch men's tennis:

interviewer: "there's a lot of interest in your new outfits. some of your fans on the websites don't seem to like them too much, your clothes."
rafa: "what happened? the fans didn't like?"
interviewer: "some of them don't."
rafa: "sorry (laughs). i don't know. no, i am feeling ok. for sure, when you have a change, some people like other people don't like. for sure with the sleeveless, not everybody like the sleeveless. right now gonna be the same, no? but anyway, is a change. but i feel good like this. important thing in the end is not the clothes; is the ball and racket and play well."

rooting for you rafa! may you win the open.

keep walking

i am not the type who obeys rules to the letter. i usually cheat pedestrian traffic lights. until 3 weeks ago when i noticed that kids had seen me cross on a red light.
i owe them my obedience.

this is not very easy to do. i know it is perfectly safe, as traffic lights for cars are not perfectly synchronized with those for pedestrians. and crossing the same street every work day results to familiarity that gives one the confidence to cross safely. but no matter the logic behind it, i am breaking the rules. and that makes it harder for me to teach the younger generation to obey them.

so i start now.


***

currently wondering about the last time i made new year's resolutions. first year college maybe or the second. then stopped when i realized i am not very good with lists.

may you have a great one.

lady bug

it is snobbishly fine and can be cheerily bouncy
suddenly it listens to no reason and then hangs limp

most days it is confident to face the bright of day
other days it hides shyly in the dark

it has to be tended as it grows sparsely
but without much thought it readies itself in the morning

most of the time it is quite a softie
in the next moment, however, it decides to be a toughie

it has a life of its own and sure gets its way
sometimes it cooperates unwittingly, to my delight

unconsciously i take it for granted,
then i take extra care when buying stuff for it

to my hair that's ever growing, ever changing
you'd taste your first cut in this place tomorrow

the last day of the year

an ode to the spring past

a maori congregation performed tribal songs praising God last sunday. it was a cold day but they wore their traditional costumes. their chants and antics moved me. i asked myself, "who am i?"

i use australian-made toiletries. i wear a shirt that's made in china. my boots are made in spain. i patronize a swiss-made watch. i drink japanese green tea and live for a monthly ramen meal. i love the italians for pasta and pizza. i hail the americans for french fries and potato chips.

i am pinoy and i am in sydney.

in 3 months, i represented different countries in asia: "have you heard of chang?", a product promoter asked me and without waiting for my answer, he looked at my face and exclaimed "of course you do, you're thai!". a friend of my boss came to the office the other day and asked, "where are you from? indonesia?" [i still wonder why people ask and not wait for answers.] then there's a tourist who requested to have her picture taken, and thanked me in mandarin afterwards. good thing i still remember "you're welcome" in mandarin. then there's this one time during a trip in hongkong when an officemate and i had difficulty getting our order of siomai dim sum across to the waiter only to find out that she was refusing to serve us pork dumplings thinking we were malaysians.

i am pinoy. tsinoy. filo. only globalised as one can possibly be.

i long to share filipino christmas songs to the community, but i can't sing. i speak fookien so poorly even my mother can't understand me. i speak english with an american accent as what the locals here say.

i am made in the philippines. i may not look it, or speak it, or eat it. but my smile is definitely it.

i am proud to be pinoy. i attribute the resiliency, the warmth, the sincerity, the kindness, that no-fuss and enduring attitude to having been made from there. [i am thinking out loud as i have been asking for a long time what sets the philippines apart?]

so what am i doing in a foreign country, you might ask. [i ask that too. so no need to apologize for it.] have i forsaken my motherland by coming here? ah, flight versus fight. i can always say that i earn dollars to fund education of children back home. or this or that. however, i don't think it really matters. what matters is knowing where i came from, continuing in growing and loving accordingly.

only time and choices will reveal who one is. and where God puts me, i'd be there. in the meantime, i don't think there is such a thing as forgetting my phillipines.