Time out

My friend's birthday party was set at 7:00 in the evening that day and I was out of the office by 5:00. i am left with nothing to do for 2 hours at my most un-creative moment and with a very uncooperative weather.

I would have gone straight to our watering hole or some place to eat, splurge my week’s allowance but I haven’t done that in the last 4 years it's almost seem alien to me. The last time I splurged was on a pair of hiking shoes and it was even on sale. Money really is harder to let go when you’re the one earning it.

After 5pm, I just don’t know where to go to kill time for the 7pm appointment.

Our watering hole would be filled with kids 15 or so years younger than me and it’d be too uncomfortable partaking the ice cold beer while thinking if my 2 year old son had dinner already. Weirder even because I haven’t drank alone in public for the last 5 years of my life. It kinda leaves an uncomfortable thought to me…what would they say? Never have I imagined I would even care about what they'd say. I’ve embarrassed myself puking in public, at my friends' apartments when I was young and risky, at the restrooms of my university, most memorable was at the wet lab while supposedly accompanying a friend for an overnight observation of her fishes, which ended with her mopping up the mess I made at the wet lab female restroom.

Your perspectives do change once a kid comes along. You at least want to prove you’re deserving of him. (Yet that doesn’t make us not want to teach him tricks to becoming a really out of this world kid.)

My phone died half an hour to 5pm so I can’t call the party people and ask who among them I can meet early or at least give me things to do before the party. I’m not a party person and these people know that very well so in the last 15 years of our lives they give me very little participation in party planning as possible. I could hardly even plan for the 1^st birthday party of our son, which we celebrated with a lot of beer and pulutan at a more respectable watering hole, and his father suffering from sore throat from too much puking and terrible hang over the next day.

little boy asking for beer and pulutan on his first birthday.

We do try to be model parents, really.

little boy on his first birthday looking so drunk.

Trusting my intuition I went straight from office to the house we’ve partied on, puked on, slept over, converted to a locker room, storage area, cried, scared ourselves to death, fought, and screamed, among others for the last 15 years, not to mention being banned from the whole community for being to rowdy and noisy during lunch. We were banned because our noise woke up the babies of the neighbors. What can you expect from 10 puberty-ing girls put together in one small house? A lot of noise, that is.

My friend’s mother was already there when I arrived, thank god. Otherwise I might really have to send myself to that drinking station and arrive at the party drunk.

Now that won’t really be a good example to the future parents, will it?

on misplaced frugality

I need to have my hair done. They also said I need a change of wardrobe…maybe a blouse with ruffles of girly things because I dress like a boy and it’s a waste for my beautiful face.

I’ve dressed like this for as long as I can remember.

But I can’t. I really can’t. The last time i got tired of tying my hair i cut it real short -- wash and wear. I can’t possibly imagine myself dishing out 200 bucks for a cheap hair relax or a 20-minute hot oil and I think 5000 bucks for hair rebonding is insanity, just as spending a good 2-5 hours of a beautiful in the salon just to get a hair done. my! I could finish 2 good movies with that. i could even train kilometers and kilometers in running with that luxury of time so I could never imagine being holed out in a salon for 2-5 hours? Are you crazy??

They say we all need shrinks so maybe these salon goers trust their hairstylists could give them their well-needed self confidence just as psychotics trust their shrinks. Ahh. I’ve been through that and rarely—I mean never, never--did I give mine my trust.

So what’s with this war against vanity? I cared less about it until I was stood up and left empty handed by such madness, which happened a handful of times, and still bitter about it but well, what can you say about somebody trading you for a good hair makeover? A bitter laugh and life goes on. Or maybe a bottle of red horse with alfredo b. diaz…who last night took back his offer—AT THE LAST MINUTE, ARGGGGG!!!---for a bottle of tanduay ice; the houseboss has given his permission!! i can escape!! I will escape!!! But what the F. he took it back anyway and I’m back to doing THE list for a possible mix cd again. Damn. (Now liz phair’s F*** and Run is playing in my head again. AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.)

Making a mix tape than going to a salon…hmmm?? (now really. I should stop this.)

What my acquaintances don’t understand is why I could readily dish out 5000 bucks for a pair typical hiking shoes. In fact, if I had the money I would anytime dish out 100k or even 200k for a good tent, or a good bike. I wouldn’t mind spending 10k for a pair of running shoes. I also wouldn’t mind spending 5-6 figures for a good camping bag. Or dslr. Or the same figure for really good food and good time with friends. But hey, do you have to pay friends to spend time with you…uhhh… so maybe that is why I was stood up before…because I didn’t have money to pay for their time…? Hmmm… Maybe I’m not given chance to get this kind of money because I’m crazy enough to spend it on things people don’t think is essential.

Well…hair rebonding isn’t essential. I don’t think it is.

If I had the luxury of time I wouldn’t mind spending the whole day on volleyball or spending the entire morning running. i wouldn’t mind spending the entire weekend on movie marathons and I don’t mind staying up late with friends for a conversation or two. And with you. I also wouldn’t mind spending my entire adulthood learning, constantly going back to school; or reading books. I haven’t had the luxury of reading a good novel or a good story since I got out of college, it’s mostly reading done while waiting for the dentist, waiting for the obstetrician, waiting for my number to be called, waiting for a delayed flight, a latecomer boyfriend, waiting for the test results, waiting, waiting, waiting. When the waiting is done I close the book even if I’m in the middle of a good conversation or narrative and the thought ends.

This weekend we’re going to have Teeth and YPF (I’m not gonna tell you what that means). I’m done with Run Fat Boy Run but I found out it was the movie we saw just last weekend also, at Movie Magic so no use watching it again although I’d say I enjoyed it pretty much especially since it’s about running (you exercise bulimic! – NO I’m not!).

Certainly there's no salon (or say, parlor) visits in sight. But lemme check my diary – NO!!! I’m just kidding.

school

Last night when i made Gogol choose his sleepwear he insisted on wearing his long-sleeved spiderman shirt. i tried to trick him into wearing the usual tanktop but when i put it on him he shouted "'man! 'man! 'man!".

he slept well with his spiderman shirt on, sans pajamas, but not with the usual scream of wanting more milk.

today we woke up early to prepare for a big day. there's a much bigger day to come but that won't be until next week and requires more intensive preparation. he was half asleep when i carried him downstairs but not without his permission. i carefully told him what i will do...i will put him on the mattress downstairs with lots of pillows on and a bottle of milk and he must go back to sleep while i cook breakfast. he, of course tried diligently to follow my instructions but when he saw me opening the fridge and putting the vegetables on the table, knives, chopping board and all, he got up and asked to sit on my lap.

maybe someday he'll be a chef.

when i finished he helped gather the bits and pieces meant for the trash so i carefully taught him how to do it. he also insisted i put a chair for him to stand on in the kitchen so he can see what i was cooking. i was cooking some chinese stir-fried noodles with scarmbled eggs for breakfast. he loves noodles...all kinds, egg, vermicelli, pasta...name it he'll eat it.

now why are we up early again?

ahh...

i heated some water for bath and asked gogol to bathe with me...at 6:30 in the morning.

this could be one of the earliest bathing time he had, the first was last december 29, 2008, at PGH. it was difficult for me to wake him up at 5:30 and ask him to take a bath. i didn't know what was coming all i knew was that i have to bathe him hours before his 9:00 am operation. it was sad recalling that. i told him a story while i washing his small hands and feet. i told him that it will be the first and only operation he'll ever go through. it turned out okay but a fistula developed 2 months after the operation. we have to have it repaired again. he still didn't know that.

today i bathe him early because at 8:30 he'll visit his playschool. today is his enrollment day. today he'll meet his teacher and see his classroom and familiarize himself with the university environment. his playschool is a child-minding center for the university employees but they can also accept kids of non-university employees (i.e., alumni????) for as long as the parents can threatened some UP employee to be their co-maker. nah, i was only kidding.

today gogol made his presence known by visiting tita ira at the gender office before proceeding to the senator miriam santiago 12M building adjacent to the footbal field.

unfortunately, his mother failed to change the slot reservation to morning from afternoon. gogol won't have to take early morning baths after all.

pondering on things

Babies, they said, should be thought the rhythms and patterns of daily life so they will be less confused and less afraid of the things around them. They said that babies need to learn these patterns to make life more predictable for them; the more predictable life is, the easier it is to deal with, the less stressful. Therefore happier babies.

Babies who are allowed to explore and learn these patterns on their own grow up to be more confident individuals while those who were forced to learn the patterns and structures end up mama’s boys…but that is another story.

But I guess the learning never stop when an individual stops becoming a baby.

it is almost the same as in planning. a place that shows more or less a pattern in the, say, in its citizens’ activities are easier to understand, therefore easier to control. Meanwhile places who show sporadic and varied activities here and there require more effort to predict and therefore harder to plan. In the first world cities you can almost predict the rush hour because you know that at that certain hour almost all people go to work. In third world cities there could be no rush hour because very few people go to work. Oh, I almost forgot; there can be rush hour too: SM sale. But that doesn’t happen everyday.

I guess in a way, this predictability is easier seen in developed countries where unemployment rate is significantly lower and where citizens know where their hard earned money go and the rights that go with those hard earned money.

With a predictable environment, it is harder to get lost or should that happen, it is almost easier to find your way back than ask somebody for directions. One acquaintance said that if you get lost in their city (yes, it’s a first world city), you can always find your way back without asking a soul since there are phonebooths in almost every corner. These phonebooths are equipped with maps and all. If you get lost in their city and can’t find your way back that will only mean you have an IQ of the platypus (sorry, platypi, but this is just a joke stolen from k. smith). in a predictable environment the consequence of your action is easier known as in a predictable environment, 1+1 would always equal to 2.

But 1+1 could equal to just about anything in the philippines. It is very apparent by the way the loading/unloading signs change positions week after week as if they grow feet of their own when nobody's looking. you get off at this station today and by tomorrow it's already illegal to get off in the same station. in a predictable environment you can always ask somebody to explain those kind of things to you because you know who to get answers from but in the philippines, you just scratch your head and let it go. everything can be answered by the 8-hour sleep.

very few people enjoy these unpredictability. tourists hate it. Except maybe for that first-world-citizen acquaintance of mine. powerful countries send their experts and consultants to provide counter measures against these inconvenience; to help erase the fluidity and the unpredictability in the lives of the filipino. they teach the filipinos how to do this and that so it would result into something less confusing and easier to understand. Easier to conquer.

I hated these inconveniences before because I wanted so much a predictable world. a world or pattern. I would like a world that would tell me the consequence of my action but I realized in the end how boring that world is. I don’t want to live in a clockwork world. Diaz wouldn’t want to live in a clockwork, predictable world and without Diaz, the world would be a sad sad sad one. I perhaps wouldn’t be able to read the BIR experience post from a blog. I don’t think joyce colon would wack her brains out deciphering the ineptitude that is GSIS.

Now, that’s what I call nationalism.

mix tapes...este MIX CD

in the tradition of latest late night and earliest early morning writing spree: 11:54 pm. 2009.03.26. (happy 26 months gogol!!)

BREAK UP MIX CD FOR VANESSA

This has been a favorite activity of mine long before playlists in digital players existed. This is how you make a playlist before: you get a blank cassette and fill it up with the music of your choice, different cassette for different mood.

And sometimes you give it to a friend who can relate or somebody you want to make a good impression to.

Right now I am helping a friend go through some tumbles so I promised to make a mix CD for her.

It began during our few exchanges through a social networking site of sad sad song lines so (INSERT SOME LIGHT BULB HERE, a 10-watt, tungsten lamp, maybe) I decided to make one: a mix cd of break up songs.

In 2005, keith and I (well, he arranged the song orders after I gave him a bunch of songs form my own roster and that somehow makes him the actual author of the mix cd, and insisted I abide by that code of ethics of proper recognition) made a mix CD for our friend to give to a girl he was courting. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out to be so exclusive to him or the girl since we, after a while, made a similar record of that mix cd and gave it to alfredo diaz. Alfredo Diaz is a lovable person suffering from alopecia. But he has a long curly goatee, which is not alopecia-c somehow. His goatee amazes our 2-year old boy. It tickles him touching it, I guess. It feels like pubic hair, only that the hair grows on his chin and not on some crotch. Feel it to believe it. Touch it when you see him.

That 2005 mix cd was called BIG GAY HEART, after a lemonhead’s song. Personally I think keith chose the title because our friend was so TORPE, it’s almost gay. In alfredo’s case, the whole phrase fit him really well. He is gay and he has a big heart – I MEAN HIS HEART IS BIG AND GAY, or to put it properly, HE’S JUST A PERSON WITH A BIG HEART AND ALWAYS GAY. Or something like that. It’s a little confusing but let me know if it confuses you in more than one way.

In 2007, we again decided to make one mix cd for alfredo. I didn’t intend to give it on his birthday but there wasn’t much time and we only got to meet on his birthday. It doubled as birthday gift and a ritual offering to him. LIFE IS MELANCHOLY was the title of the mix cd. You see, judging by the title alone it really wouldn’t fit as a birthday gift. Remember, alfredo has a big gay heart. Although if you ask him, he’d always say he is sad. He loves to feel sad for other people to the point of being funny. It’s a mannerism of some sort that he can’t shake off. And that actually makes him the BIG GAY HEART.

We ate some really sweet cake on his birthday, played some songs, were introduced to some bunch of friends, mingled in small groups: there’s the dining table group, the porch group, the living room set group, the near-the-book-case-group, the small near-the-piano-group (which was my group), and the even smaller late-comers group. Then at 10 pm it was time to go home because I had to feed the 1 year old gogol.

Keith and I said we would make it a ritual to annually give alfredo a mix cd until we get tired of making one or until this cd technology disappears into oblivion but because alfredo got caught up in being a zarzuela director, I, being a japayuki mother to gogol, and keith being a major plumber I was only able to make a shortlist of about 10 songs to the next installment, supposed to be a 2008 mix CD, still left un-arranged and un-burned. So unready for reproduction. The set was supposed to be called LIFE IS PRETTY and would contain happier tracks. But the august (and everything after) activities were never repeated, as very usual of alfredo because he’s just plain ABNORMAL and doesn’t want any activity to come in regular intervals, more so this one group turn into some crazed cult-y clique. So it stopped and he never replied to my SMS and never answered my calls more so return them.

I would bump into him from time to time and he would scowl at me. That’s just him.

But I know he continues to adore me.

The third of the series of 3 was supposed to be like LIFE IS SO FUCKING AWESOME that sort of collection but up to now I still haven’t thought of any decent title or made any decent list of the possible songs to be included in the ONE HELL OF A MIX CD he’ll remember for the rest of his alopecia-c life. (Somebody once made a mix cd of me and entitled it JERILEE MASSIVE MUSIC MIX. It’s 12 gig worth of songs if it’s not really massive I don’t know what is).

So on the Lenten holiday I will make Vanessa a mix cd she’ll also remember for the rest of her life. Because that’s the only thing I’m really good at. One thing that I really mastered:

Making people feel good about themselves.

(Which I believe makes me a God then. Now, I should really stop doing this to myself).