Maids, respect your employers, especially if they are as considerate as ME.

There is no better way to end the day than this.

My rejoicing over finishing the report (something that actually pays the bills) that I've been working on for the past two weeks was quite premature.

Tonight, I come home to a maid watching Cinema One on volume level No. 22 (when we ordinarily have it at level 16-18), my kid's toys all over the place, a dinner waiting for me to cook, and sacks after sacks of my mother's muscovado retail business blocking the only entrance and exit of the house--an actual violation of the fire code.

The kid immediately rushed to me, took my hand to his forehead and asked if i have anything for him, which i really did--a slice of strawberry cake. my kid had already crossed the 2-meter distance from his play area to where i was seated, untying the laces of my shoes, and the maid's still seated on the bamboo chair, glued to the bullshit movie starring Hero Angeles (it's a pity, you gave up architecture for this shit) and Sandara Park, as if it was not her BOSS who just arrived.

The maid is a recent hire; has been with us for 3 weeks--21 days to be exact. I knew something would go wrong, hiring a stay-in maid who lives more or less 40 kilometers from ours, who went to vocational school in the city. And something really did go wrong because when she takes a day-off on Sundays, she comes back 6:00 am the next day, Monday. By then I am already stressed from having to wake up early to work on my report, prepare breakfast and prepare the kid to school, not to mention prepare myself for office. I've mentioned this before but may i reiterate, that i work on the Island, and that I have to take 3 land trips and a ferry ride to get to office. And i have to clock in at 8:30 in the morning. And that means i have to be out of the house not later than 7:15 am if i want to be punctual.

and this stupid maid comes home on a Monday at 6:00 in the morning. She did the same thing last week, on a Tuesday--went out at 7 pm to attend a relative's birthday party at the district near ours. I did not forget to remind her that our apartment's gate closes at 9:00 am and that she has to come home early because i am very busy during weekdays. She did come home early, at 6:30 am THE NEXT DAY, an hour and a half late from the 5 am she promised.

I will not even begin to tell that last Sunday she asked if she could go home in the coming Tuesday to attend a relative's funeral, to which i answered, "I have told you before, I am a very busy person on weekdays." To which she also replied in a question: "Can i then borrow 1,000 pesos so i can buy flowers to give my dead relative?" This is the third time she asked to "borrow" money in the 21 days she has been with us.

I have never been this mad at a maid; never had as much horrible experience from the previous ones that had lived with us. I've had 5 maids before and except for the even stupider (but at least not as fresh as this latest animal) last maid, I've come to love all of them. The third maid stayed with us the longest, only quit when she got pregnant. She's sophisticated, maid level, even puts on make-up and dresses presentably when she goes out of the house. She does not watch TV but listens to the radio (she herself bought) and from her, my kid learned to appreciate pop music and memorized the smell of a nail polish. The second maid was also very dear to us, to our family, actually. i let her go after she finished her vocational course, while working as maid and nanny for my then 5-month old kid. My kid was already 18 months when she left us to work in a mall, which, we later found out, did not pay much as expected that she went back to working as household help. Then she quit her employer to work as nanny for my sister's kid in Manila after a chance meeting with my mother. Every time we remember her, maid No. 2, we think of ways to help her; get her a good job that she deserves as she's a smart and very driven.

but this new animal is just beyond comprehension. since she's been here, we've been having dirty spoons and forks (like finding bits and pieces of starchy rice stuck between fork tines), oily counter top, oily burner, dirty wash rag (table wiper) carelessly dumped in the corner of the kitchen counter. I have been coming home to blaring Cinema One movies. she does not even change the channel to BBC or the prime time local trash news channels the moment i arrive, unlike the others. (Maid 3 is the most laudable, she automatically turns the TV to Aljazeera when i arrive--plus a clean house and prepared supper waiting to be gobbled by me! That is why we gave her paid 2-week Christmas holiday vacations, a 1 month bonus and Philhealth membership, on top of her pay.)

So today, very tired from FINALLY finishing the 60-something pages report (bringing home a couple more reports and matrices to counter-check) and from the long way home, i turned the TV off, got very very mad while i cooked dinner, cleaned the house, washed the dishes she left on the sink, and hated myself for having too much respect for poor people, and for my inability to yell at maids, while she pretended to play with my kid, and while my kid genuinely laughed from being tickled by her.

I ended up screaming at my kid to GET YOUR GODDAMN TOYS ORGANIZED!!!!, left him alone to get himself ready for sleep and yelled at him once more for not coming to bed on time, slamming the door for emphasis. for this, i feel very very guilty. It's wrong to take it on a family just because you have too much respect for your maid's rights and have too much consideration for her poverty. (Actually, she doesn't look poor at all, and is very comfortable at borrowing money from her employer, to the point that i had to devise a weekly maid payment scheme, for the first time in the 5-maids-of-my-married-with-kid life.)

My younger sister and I have this feeling that her purpose for getting this job is to be closer to her friends in the city. I'm even thinking she's another candidate for pre-marital pregnancy (that one i don't really mind) and would probably leave me again for that same reason (she would be the third maid to get pregnant under my "care"). But i won't wait for that day. I am firing her next week, when she turns a month at work.

and because i am still swamped with revisions after revisions of a report which supposed to have been finalized 2 a week ago, i still have not touched any posting projects (read: short writing stuffs). I've been constantly postponing them and out of desperation, i wrote down a list of things to write about in my notebook. but that was only when i was home and alone. can't do no other thing when the kid is at home.

(now, that manually writing things down in a journal is a long gone habit that i've been meaning to do again but can't. people give me strange looks when i write things in public.)

anyways, all i wanted to say was, i discovered this blog, a very interesting one. i discovered it via beat architect's  blog roll. the first post i read in the blog life of an architect is about finding a house. this weekend, husband and i will be seeing a lot for sale in another district. we don't have money but the recent encounter with the pests at home left us no choice but to look for another place with lesser rat infestation problem. i know, can't really avoid rats in the city. but the rats have almost taken over our apartment, and we are very punctual rent payers, and we have also made it known with the landlord. and everyone is saying my rent is just too expensive, i could rent a big house with it. sooo.

(beat architect's blog is new--he has long left the 2 other old blogs.)

updates.

FIRST OF:
Nasty comments.


I rarely get comments in my blog, in fact they are so rare, i'd be more lucky to win in the lotto than get a comment.


What luck i have that in late February i received not 1 but (WOW!!!) 7 comments in what i call now, my very controversial post. It came from an Antiqueno who now resides in the UK, or at least what the IP locator says, based on my Feedjit and my blogger's own stat counter. His/her (but i have a bigger hunch it was a her) roots was known, perhaps angered by my lack of attention, after s/he posted his/her comments in Kiniray-a. 


I decided to save her/his face and deleted her comments, otherwise, the SIXTEEN (16) (one-six) regular readers of my blog will know that one of those cake-houses I "architecturally critiqued" in my aforementioned controversial post belonged to him/her, built using his/her hard earned euros. 


But that is not the point of my argument. I even call my mother's architectural sense tasteless. I even call other architect's architectural taste tasteless-ier. And still, that is not the point of my argument.


My point is, I do not like those kinds of houses and even if i call them ugly, that is not for anybody to decide that i am a BAD person. Or that i am out to destroy anybody's family. Nor that gives anybody the right to threaten me. 


People, please remember that if you build a monument meant to catch people's attention be ready for critiques. critiques/critics will come whether you like it or not. It so happen that UK Commenter got it from a stranger brave enough to say that that house is not very sustainable and adaptable in the tropics, given that, in order to comfortable live in those cake houses, you have to install air conditioner and pay thousands in electric bills. But that is my perspective from the school of thought that i subscribe to. Anybody can argue with that as long as they do not tell me that i do not like those houses because my own PAY is not enough get me those kinds of houses. (I will like everyone to know that my friend, 27 years old, works in the PHILIPPINES and is paid at least PHP100,000.00 a month. We belong to the same profession -- environmental/urban planners, development workers. That is why we do not need to go abroad to earn enough.)


Zaha Hadid is a very famous architect and she has been called many funny names by her critics. These funny names are read by millions of people in the world. Imagine how much time she'd waste if she went after each and every one of those critics. She wouldn't be as rich as she is now. Just to let you know, i do not like Ms. Hadid's Dubai architecture. But i loved her for the vitra firehouse. 


And, Ms. Ay Abaw, made similar post. but the houses she critiqued in this post, i'm sure very many Iloilo City people, 1st district residents are very familiar of. The post was made in April 2009, years before i did mine. Taking pictures of houses, posting them in your blog and calling them ugly, is not a new thing after all. and definitely it's not only me doing that.  


Ms. Ay Abaw and I are very very good people though, we do not include personal details of the owners, not the address, of other people's stuff we put in our blog (without the concerned consent) because we know it is the proper thing to do.


>>>>Bob Borson, a residential architect, has this thing to say in his blog, in this particular post: "You may not agree with my opinion as to the...- please keep your 
uninformed opinions to yourself or get your own blog."  <<<<<




Secondly:
Japan Earthquake and Tsunami.


ALfredogs lead singer and main photographer Pai is living in Sendai. she has lived there since December (oh she left on my birthday!!!) 2010. 


She left Sendai 10:00, March 11 to go to her new area of deployment in Iwate. 


The 8.9 magnitude earthquake hit Sendai around 2:00 in the afternoon and not long after, the tsunami came crashing into the city of Sendai and sanriku, and some other parts of Japan and the Pacific. 


On March 12, before lunch, we still lacked information about her whereabouts.
But logging in to pushpullbar, i found Pitrak's post about the tsunami. A moderator said that he still couldn't contact his parents who are in Iwate. One moderator, Takes, who lives in Tokyo said it took him 6 hours to contact his parents who live near the area where the tsunami strike. 
Though i was just a lurker in pushpullbar, i took chance to send Takesh a message, gave him Pai's contact numbers (which i took from her brother), including the people finder her boyfriend posted on the net. I do not personally know any ppb moderators nor are they my forum friends. 
I sent the message around 9:30 am, i think, and after a while, this is what i got:


****This is a message from takesh h at pushpullbar (http://www.pushpullbar.com/forums/forum.php). The pushpullbar owners cannot accept any responsibility for the contents of the email.****

(received 10:19 am on March 12)

Hi REJI,
I talked with faylyn just a minute ago and she said she is safe, but has no electricity since last night.  Phone connection  is very bad so she couldn't reach friends or her parents.
She said don't worry.
Hope that'll help.

Takeshi

Thirdly:
Kid is back to the City. 


We've found a stay-in baby sitter and she started working with us last week. We almost thought kid will not be able to go back to school before his recognition, and that he'd be missing his second chance to go up the stage to get his medal (last year he was given the "Most Gregarious" medal). But he's back and he's attending practice for the recognition. Tomorrow their class is going to have their picture taken for their Activity Book and their Year book. 
And after that he'll be joining his father at the farm again to get his knees scratch, his skin burned, and his social skills polished with his newfound friends. 


And oh, we finally took him to the friendly neighborhood hair trimmer, Telloy. Telloy is a balding gay who used to cut my father in-law's hair, my husband's hair and now, my kid's hair. My former lady boss also goes for her regular hair cut to Telloy. 


One of his hair dresser is a dark-skinned, skinny gay with frizzy hair (here we will call SGWFH) and weird eyes. First time i came to Telloy's shop i was transported to a TV show featuring India, or Morroco. With his tiny (yes, 6x1.5 meters--if that's not tiny, i don't know what is!)shop's orange walls, yellow chairs and ceiling, and the SGWFH in  satin midriff with some gold piping (or maybe i am just imagining the gold piping, just now, trying to recall the whole scene) and a loose pants similar to what the belly dancers wear. his hair was longer and even frizzier. and it was dyed orange, his lips painted dark red.


I knew i am going to like that place.  




Lastly:
Tomorrow is a holiday.


Happy Liberation Day to Panay, Guimaras and Romblon!!!!!




- END -

listen to the randomness.

• received email that afg assignment MIGHT come in april. that got me excited. i'm baaaaaaaaaaad.

• and i went home past 7 pm. chris and i waited inside the rocking pumpboat. it was windy and the winds howled and rocked the boat and caused it to make lots of sounds, creek, for one. after a while a lady with LOTS of jackfruit came. sacks after sacks of jackfruit. the porters loaded her stuff at the front, the empty space at the nose of the pumpboat. and after more moments we left. we learned the lady decided to rent the pumpboat and we only had to pay PhP 15.00 after all. Chris earlier wished she would. today is his lucky day, late as the luck may have come, but still...

• in the middle of the ocean over the waves and the roller coaster ferry ride i saw a scene i have so badly wanted in my whole life. i have only 2 dream shots in my mind that i wish i could take before i die. and this could be the third. i so badly wanted to take that shot. (and i wrote under a really bad drawing: "i'm never a good illustrator but that's how exactly it looked like, if your imagination is good"--done using colored pens. really bad drawing)

            the boatman had his back at us. it was drizzling. he was carrying a fog lamp that doubles       as a safety lamp. he was facing the sea. on his head is a red shirt he tied like he would a bandana. he wore a white shirt and it was flapping in the cold, january ocean wind. the lights from the fog lamp spills on the boatpost, on his sturdy, muscular shoulders, on his temples and the red shirt tied around it, on to the sacks of jackfruit dirty and sticky from the latex, through the slits and cracks of wooden boat posts. and everywhere around, it's pitch black. i get ocean sprays from time to time, on my face. i taste salt as i wipe it from my face. in the distance, tiny dots of orange city lights outlined the sky.

              i so badly wanted that shot. but i didn't have a camera. and if i did, it would take a lot more luck, more than chris' to get me what i wanted. oh. well.

maybe next time.

• thoughts on last night's discussion: part 1 -- it is not proper to discuss african or asian politics and economy lacking extensive reading. more so if you do not know where that nation you’re talking about is located. because eventually you will imbibe a wrong impression to your listener. gut feel is okay if your discussion is based on a premise that it is going to be a dumb discussion, because international affairs, international security and economic stability cannot be discussed using gut feel and especially lacking adequate reading. wrong impression picked up by a handful of people has the tendency to spread like dengue and exponentially multiple like overpopulation. in the end what you'll get is a whole community believing that the philippines is better than africa when we actually aren't. we're just much fairer in color but really, we're not. and some years back some philippine city's hdi is actually comparable to that of ghana. of course that can be challenged because hdi is not always the perfect measure to everything. oh. well.

• thoughts on last night's discussion: part 2 -- and i know that imelda marcos did a lot of "good job" to the philippines. but i am not buying your opinion. because if you compare the philippines' state during her years of "good job" with the kind/pace of development in other nations (or asian nations, to be more specific), given the same amount of money, it remains inferior. and of course, the killing and disappearances and the abuses that happened as a result of her and her family being in power is something that the beautiful buildings and lovely city cannot compensate for. you know that.

• i like making fun of hypocrites, and in that sense, i am really, and purely evil.