a quiet, sweet, and wonderful day

...am thankful for another year

I heart Anoop!!!

whether he stays or not...he is my Idol. Sorry Simon, I have a reliable blackberry and home phone, I will keep on voting till you eat your words...again!!!

I'm wearing this shirt to the tour :-)

16th anniversary

...is yet in June, but the theme shirt is already on the way :-)

In and Out

I went to Costco today and while having lunch at the food court I observed the women passing by, focusing on their hair. Some had really nice hair, some, worst than just a bad hair day, yet hair, they have. I missed mine.

One dose of chemo and mine is all over the place, on the bed, on the floor, in the trash. Loosing your hair other than how Britney Spears lost hers is appalling and disheartening, even if already expected. A wig is still a wig, no matter how stylish it is. People pay for wigs, they are happy. I got mine for free, I am not quite happy.

At the end of the day, I consoled myself… “Outside, I am getting ugly, inside, something beautiful is happening, the slipping hair affirms it.”

under refinement

“What keeps you busy these days aside from medical stuff?” This email from a friend made me smile. The humor is so right on target and timing is perfect. No, I don’t have chemo brain, that is not the reason I was absent on the blogosphere for months. I have been reading, in fact, overwhelmed with information. Downside of cancer patients, lots of home works.

Before that Stage 2 IDC diagnosis in September, I thought I did a good job cruising through the challenges and joys of life. I was making concrete plans for near and distant future, not just for myself but for the family, and execute them one by one in accordance with the time table, which I also created, with approval of the entire household. It’s like everything is under control and since I am good at it, I was tasked with this “control” responsibility, which I do not regret. I maintained the balance until this lump in my breast turned-out to be invasive and behaviorally very aggressive.

The holiday trips or the vacations that I used to plan many months ahead of time were now replaced with regular trips to Kaiser for treatment or other related appointments. My hair will be replaced by wigs and the hours I spent ironing my hair to get a perfect straight will soon be over. Abraham resents this, he likes my real hair, but it’s okay. It is just a small share of suffering compared to the other patients I met at the chemo salon who had severe cases.

Cancer is a strange gift, said a breast cancer survivor, it is indeed. I think only God can take this gift back. When I was diagnosed, I know I needed help to pray. I believe, I have faith… but I am not sure my prayers would be enough, so I solicited prayers. The emails, text messages, and phone calls kept coming. I feel loved. Friends are like God’s angels, they give me strength, and they give me happiness. On my first chemo, Linda missed work to be with me. Despite the time difference in US Mainland and Guam, Buh prayed for me that hour, the giant strawberry juice (my description of Adriamycin, the vesicant that kills active cells, one of my 3 chemo drugs) syringes was hooked into my IV. My friends from work in the Philippines were there to support me from start, families, co-workers; I know they are behind me. So many acts of kindness from people past and present helps me in this journey of refinement.

On movies...

15 Scripts

A former businessman-officemate said Hollywood has only 15 scripts ---

Hmmm…so similarities are not coincidental; it is a product of recycling or reissue. And why 15 not 20 or more, or less?

***
Alternate-endings

There are movies I wished had alternate endings, one is Message in a Bottle – a story of love lost and found and lost again, and Bridge to Terabithia- a movie about the power of imagination and friendship. Not that I didn’t liked these films, in fact I think both were awesome, except that it made me cry too much, that part I didn’t like. I have seen Message in a Bottle more than five times but finished it just once, and all four other times I watched it, I clicked stop on the remote control at the scene I wanted the movie to end.

***
Memorized screen play

Call me whatever, but I am not the only one. I had a guy (?) officemate who loved Drew Barrymore’s Ever After like crazy. Like me, he had seen the movie more than a 100 times, like me, he has the VHS and the DVD, and like me, he memorized the lines of the characters in the film. What’s in this flick? A lot of things that reminded me of my childhood. The manor and the furniture, the way they did their laundry, the portable urinals and how they disposed of its waste, the wood-fuelled stove, I’ve seen it all before – the setting in the movie is like a picture of my treasured past, plus ---the romance, the prince most importantly.

Soon to memorize: The Phantom of the Opera, watched 20ish times, Enchanted viewed 10ish times.

***

First week showing

The first ever movie we watched on first week showing ---The Dark Knight. The family is fan of the Knight's Tale - Heath Ledger. Other people in the long lines were just curious but definitely not disappointed after watching.

More on the Dark Knight --- Officemate #1 asked, "What's a good movie to see this weekend?" Officemate #2 replied, "The Dark Knight." Officemate #1 asked again, "Is it a Horror Film?"

:-)

***
Migrant blooper

When I joined the company I thought our office building was showbiz enough because it is situated right in front of the Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery were Marilyn Monroe and a list of many other actors, actresses, and musicians were entomb. But this was nothing compared to where our office was relocated, in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, where film making is very much alive. That time, I have been in the US only for 9 months and although I know English since grade school in the Philippines, I was not accustomed to how they call some things here.

Anytime of the day, it is common to witness actual filming and sometimes be included in the movie by accident, like when you’re crossing the street or standing by the ATM machine, like my boss did. In fact, a couple of popular movies were filmed right at our office building, Spiderman, The Italian Job, and Fast and the Furious.

One day, an Eddie Murphy movie was being shot downstairs. I got excited I called my officemates and our CFO, “there’s a shooting downstairs, come have a look!” They hurriedly went by the window, sneaked their heads out and asked, “Where’s the shooting? Were there cops?” I told them, “there are no cops; it’s a comedy, an Eddie Murphy movie.” To which they altogether replied, “Oh you meant a filming, not a shooting.” And they all went back to their station holding their laughs. No wonder they all looked anxious-scared instead of anxious-excited when I called them. Embarrassing situation ---priceless!

Why I've given up mussels

One good thing about proof reading Lemuel’s Science Reports is learning. A lot of times I realized how nescient I am of Science, like it took me several readings to understand the what abouts of global warming. Now that Lemuel is on summer break, I’m free of proof readings but before classes was over, he reported on water pollution and the latest methods used to control it.

Until this report I didn’t know that mussels are easily contaminated by heavy metals and persistent organic pollutants that it is used by scientists to measure the water pollution level.

I have always been pleased eating this seashell since I was a teen, it is abundant in our province therefore it is sold cheap. When I was pregnant with Abraham, I consume a gallon-full of mussels just by myself. I liked it ginataan (with coconut milk) with veggies, oven-baked with tomato sauce and ketchup, or simply steamed.

At Seafood City here in Los Angeles, prices of Mussels from New Zealand (my preferred brand) and China had increased, but that wouldn’t stop me from patronizing my favorite molluscs. But after learning the facts above, my partiality with mussels has ended. In fact I managed to skip it on 2 recent buffet trips. Thanks Science!

P.S. Thanks to all my friends who remembered my birthday :-)
P.S.2 Advance Happy Birthday Bu!

the first fight

I’m a big fan of weddings that’s why I zealously looked forward to last Saturday’s garden sunset wedding of my friends from work. The occasion turned out just as I expected it to be, blooming, sweet, and romantic. One lady, as the bride steps down staircase, can’t help but utter, “I want to get married again.” I think she meant, “I want to wear that gown!” I do too.

One thing about women on weddings is that they can’t help but reminisce and compare the occasion with their own. Secretly hoping for a rewind, not necessarily getting married with another person, but just different gowns, hairstyle, venue, give aways, and so forth - if they can turn time around.

Standing beside the bride by the door of the main ballroom, we both were anxiously excited for the ceremonies to start. The sweetness and romance were playing in my mind taking me back the time I was wearing my own wedding dress when the bride introduced me her florist, who that time was about to collect the check for her flowers and her services. An incident suddenly coruscated my memory…

Sometime in the past, a florist took advantage of the bride’s pre-occupation with the pressures and vanities of the wedding and overcharged for the cost of the blooms and the services, like 30 or 40% more than what she quoted. She knew her way, the florist, instead of approaching the bride or the mother of the bride went straight to the groom to collect. The groom, without confirmation with the bride, who that time was just standing at the opposite corner of the church, handed the florist his cash.

The bride, after learning the groom had paid for more than what they are supposed to pay, was upset and blamed the groom. With a total frowned face, she clutched the trail of her ecru organza gown, hurriedly walked to the car, got in and loudly slammed the door closed, leaving behind the groom who stopped arguing to quiet his spouse. Good thing the bride knew about the incident after the reception when all the guests were gone.

They drove home and slept on different beds on their wedding night.

Each and every June of the years that followed, the couple were reminded they were deprived of a romantic wedding night by a florist, so they made sure each anniversary is sweet and fight-free…working on their 16^th year now.

By the ways, the upset bride was me; it was our first fight as a couple.

Summer and my youth

Summer when I was young was long days and long nights. In the City where I grew up, it meant extended playing times with my neighbor friends in the ample yard of my great grandparent’s brick house. The youngsters, me included, would start to assemble at around 4 PM, right after the afternoon siesta forced to us by our parents to take, and start to play in groups, the girls together, and the boys, their own group. Before 6 PM, mothers would yell supper to their kids and everybody would wash themselves with water from my grandparents' well, the deepest, well-maintained and has the cleanest water of all wells in the entire neighborhood. Some neighbors would even do their laundry or take their baths there. Shortly after an express dinner, kids are back again and gather for the final game of the night, this time girls and boys altogether, which could be either tags or hide and seek, sometimes both, until everybody gets tired and retires to seat at my grandparents' staircase and talk about everything, each takes his or her turn to tell a story, but there were kids who had a lot to share. Most of the topics don’t make sense at all but kids as we are, were very much entertained to the facts and fiction combo and would laugh and scream in horror depending on what story was told. Tales of ghosts, giants, and vampires were favorites that time.

Summer is a time to be holy. The heat kicks off in time with the holy week. As early as Holy Wednesday, radio and TV stations stopped airing regular shows, thus, all you hear or watch are those relating to the holy season. The solemnity of the week is felt deeper by the 24 -7 reading, or singing, of the passion of the Christ until Easter, by the elderly women in the vicinity. The Holy Week starts and ends with a procession followed by a whole week of flower offerings to the Church, usually by the cutest girls dressed in white. Summer is also the time to espy the loveliest girls and handsomest boys through endless Flores de Mayo or Santa Cruzan. The Reina Elena is the most prestigious title and is usually the loveliest of them all, until in the later years when the sponsors of the Flores de Mayo designates their daughters as the Elena but even if the later is the case, the Santa Cruzan always draws crowds to the streets.

Summer is reconnecting, a time to see the people you haven’t seen in a year because they stay in Manila or Olongapo because of their parent’s work. Summer is also associating with bakasyonistas from other cities in Luzon. Summer is so full of lovely memories for me that it became my favorite season of the year, well, growing up in the Philippines you don’t have much choice of seasons, there are only 2 and I am not fond of the other- rain. I miss all these summer experiences to the point I wish my own kids to experience them themselves, like playing groups games with children their age, under the moonlight and starry nights, instead of the virtual games they play with computer terminals. I wish for them to have a chance to fetch water from the well and wash there, if there are any wells left out there. I’d like for them to experience a Holy Week surrounded by silence and hearing only the singing of the passion, children were more patient and calmer then. Summer then and there --- how I miss it.

Summer now and here? ---- heat!!!

...i cannot go back... (why i want to write Oprah)

A week before leaving my last job, a former co-employee whom I developed friendship through emails and telephone conversations called for a work related issue. After addressing her concern, we shifted the talk to each other’s lives as we haven’t spoken in a while. The last we had was almost a year ago when her husband who also worked with us as branch manager passed away of a disease, not the big “C” he battled with for sometime.

The husband was smart, a jolly man, and speaks so fondly of Asia; it’s one of the favorite topics of our conversation when they visit our office in Los Angeles. The wife is equally smart, nice and proper. I admire that she has a Master’s Degree in Divinity. Together, they are a perfect pair, for they complement each other’s traits. They raised two fine young boys, and used to have a comfortable home in one of Texas’ prime cities. Life seemed good until the husband died, followed by the death of her mother, and the mortgage turmoil that left her jobless making it difficult for her to pay the bills that keep coming, aside from those accumulated when her husband was then struggling with cancer.

I uttered, after listening to her sad story ---“I really admire your courage and strength for moving on and going back to where your husband left-off.” It pinched my heart as she said, “No Lady, I wasn’t able to go back. When he died (referring to her husband) I tried to move on and live life like we used to but I realized the life that we lived all the time when he was still alive, was the life he created for us, and now that he is gone, that life is also gone. I pretended I can, but I cannot go back.”

We were still exchanging our good lucks and good byes on the phone but my mind had already drifted away, emphatically imagining her situation. Without a job, unable to pay the mortgage, she lost the house, the boys moved-out into an apartment in the city when the younger one found a job, she switched into care giving and relocated to one of Texas’ remotest suburbs and lived in a small congregation unable to rent her own place. I could imagine how hard it is for her to survive with just over $180 for a few hours work in two weeks. Her only wish is to save some money to buy a trailer she could live in and drive to the city when she visits her boys.

My friend is a very strong woman, no doubt about it. But right now she needs a person with a big heart, someone with ways and means to put her back in track, to the road that will lead her home, together with her boys--- back to the life her deceased husband created for them.

I have a heart full of compassion, but I don’t have the means and ways to provide the help she needs….And this is why I want to write Oprah…

gone up to breathe

Five years in downtown Los Angeles’ Financial District and I finally said goodbye to say hello to the calming classy breeze of Santa Monica. Goodbye to my comfort zone, submerged to newness was my current status for the last 30 days. New job, a lot of learning, new associations, communications, and on and on and on.

I didn’t take a break when I changed jobs. I thought, I’ll always have the time to take a breather later, what’s most important is to keep myself employed in this not so good economy, rest will come to me easily when my bills are taken care of --- I said to myself. And so this last 3-day weekend, I took advantage, up the hills, to the cold mountains.

Hmmm…no pollution…so refreshing…so relaxing…till my next blog!

Starting over

After having been to each and every other theme park in California, I thought Magic Mountain was the period to the loop, but it isn’t, for the recent visit to Disney and our neighbor, Universal Studios, brought us back right where we started. It made me conclude that living in the US, particularly in Southern California ---enough is never enough---for theme parks will be part of your life for as long as you can walk or make it in wheelchair, as in the case of the 80ish looking lady who took the high speed “Mummy Ride” with us.

There are a handful reasons why people go back to theme parks over and over ---it could be the new rides, new shows, bonding with families, or touring relatives and guests from out of state or out of the country. From my many visits, I observed, theme parks, though built with different themes, were alike in many ways, each makes visitors feel you are in a magical world escaping the bustles of the real world even for just a few hours. I observed too that time don’t change what goes on in theme parks, those parents indulging their kids with toys and souvenir items that will gather dust as they reach home are still there, the unhealthy pricey menus don’t change, the long lines are still there, even longer---it changes one ride’s name to “Indiana Jones and the Temple of 3 Hours Wait.” Theme parks, even if they add, delete, or modify shows, rides, and attractions will be the same – it’s very good at ripping-off our wallets :-)

The experience of theme parks used to be the same for me, but not recently- things were the same, but inside me was different. Where has the gut to try the daring rides come from? Why am I suddenly not afraid anymore? I took the fast rides, the high vertical drops, with my two boys and sometimes would even initiate it. What is going on? I am passing a different cycle of my life and it required revisiting theme parks all over again for me to realize that I’ve changed, that I have grown, that living in the US made me a stronger person, maybe not that strong compared to others, but strong enough to conquer pre-conceived fears.

A different person now…hmmm…the magic of theme parks.

the heart won't write

Many times I opened my site hoping to post an entry but closed again disappointed. I took the yellow paper and the pencil and tried writing the old traditional way but words are still hard to find. There are so many challenging, fast-paced, and surprising events happening all around me but I’m still lost for words.

I wanted to write Oprah, serious! Maybe her show could help a friend who is in dire need of financial help, but I can’t find a way to transform my friend's very emotional situation and express my friend's thoughts the way she conveyed them to me into a letter that will merit the help I so wanted for her.

I wanted to write about the depressing moments of loosing a job, its devastating effects on families and relationships. I wanted to write about the thrills of finding a new job, the ego-boosting complements from job interviews, the joy of receiving job offers, the tricks of evaluating options and choosing which one suits best.

I wanted to write about the nice homilies at church this Easter season. I wanted to write about my favorite reality shows which are now at its height. I wanted to write about my new gadgets and recent interests. I wanted to write about letting go of something and wanting it back. I wanted to write about how Abraham and Lemuel are growing up to be totally different but very much alike.

I wanted to write... if only I can do so with my brain. But I write with my heart and as of yet, my heart is tired of too much excitements, of too much emotions, of too much sensitivity, that I struggle for words.

what's going on?

BREAKING UP A HABIT

I love leisure driving or driving without planned destination. Whenever we have the chance I would tell Brack to drive wherever to refresh, the kids enjoyed the trips too. It’s like we developed a habit which seemed hard to break because it pleases every member of the family…until gas prices went up…$3.69 per gallon killed it.

ADAPTATIONS

After church last Saturday evening, the family stopped by Seafood City, a Filipino supermarket, for meat, fish, veggies, fruits, seasonings, and rice. Along the cashier’s counter I glanced at the different sweet delicacies which are guaranteed tasty but I tried my best to avoid because of the high calorie and sugar contents. I pointed the suman ( rice cake wrapped in coconut leaves) to Abraham, I told him those are his favorite when he was much younger, back in the Philippines. He candidly replied, “Really? Well now it’s all about tamales Mommy.”

Are we in Los Angeles or Mexico?

PLEASE BUY

Unemployment is at record high, stagflation is worst than recession. People had stopped buying so the government is releasing tax rebates in May for people to spend and infuse cash back into the economy. Everybody, the working class especially, feared being homeless…I don’t think the ordinary taxpayers would spend their rebates checks just for the sake of keeping the economy rolling. I just wish for the rich people to open up their wallets a little wider…please buy…please keep on buying.

a picture paints a thousand words...(2nd edition)

beyond human attachments (for Spice)

I was multi tasking in the kitchen yesterday between cooking and cleaning the mini beta fish aquarium. In the past, I struggle to transfer the fish from its container to the other bowl, it would swim fast away from the net and oftentimes would jump in strong resistance. But since a few weeks from yesterday, the fish had been calm and cooperative. My guesstimate is age – the fish has been with us for more than two years now. I wonder how long it is in fish life. I wonder too, how old it is when we bought it from Petco, maybe not that old. This fish survived more than a dozen of goldfishes, another beta, and two turtles. But this fish is not the longest we had, Crabbie was, an active hermit crab, which stayed with us for more than three years and died the middle of last year.

Although not initially my pets, I ended up being the caretaker of these tiny marine animals when the kids lost their enthusiasm a long-long time ago. Though I sometimes make them guilty of neglecting their container-based pets, both Abraham and Lemuel are still dreaming of having a dog. Now this is where I become emo. I told them they can have a dog when they are old and have their own family but never will I get a dog for them again.

I would never want to own another dog. Why? Because I had a great one and I feel no dog can ever replace my charming Spice. At first I thought she was babyish and a picky eater but when Brack left for the US, I started to notice how a responsible family member she was. Spice became unusually sensitive and would bark even at nothing to protect us. There was this incident during my grandfather’s wake that we went back home at dawn and were so surprised to find Spice sitting by the gate waiting for us. She must have walked out as I am closing the gate and unknowingly locked her out. Yet she stayed and guarded her territory responsibly. Imagine my guilt leaving her outside.

Spice got the most expressive eyes and looks at me without criticisms. My heart aches every time I would recall the dawn we left the Philippines for the US; it was my last sight of Spice. I didn’t think she would pass away soon enough for our next reunion. What I’m imagining before is, if she can still recognize Lemuel whom she loved to lick on the cheeks when we return. Apparently, no get together of that sort is happening anymore.

I fed and cared for our tiny water-based pets, I never even bathed Spice before; it was always Brack and my nephews, Aaron and Mikko who bathed her. I may not have a picture of Spice but her image is crystal clear stacked in my heart and mind and my attachment to this canine is heaven bound.

The day of hearts

It's Valentine's Day tomorrow and I'm too sick to write an entry. This link leads to an archived historical entry :-)

LOVE AND BE LOVED - my dear readers!

sick and amazed

Your spirit is willing but your body is weak...it is very hard to have fun when you are sick. You wanted to eat but the food isn't just as appetizing. You wanted to read but your head is heavy. You end up infront of the tube watching the morning news for a few hours until you fall asleep and wake up to watch some more.

But today I had fun being sick because I had the time to explore this. Awesome! Go grab one, you'll never know when flu catches you!

My new creativity software!

...of beliefs and practices

On the way to drop-off Abraham to his school yesterday morning, we heard the DJ of our favorite radio station greeting his callers with “Happy Ash Wednesday!” I may not be a devout Catholic but I reacted with, “Hello, it’s not a happy occasion you know?”

My comment lead to a short and meaty conversation between me and Abraham with his little brother seated at the backseat quietly absorbing our discussion. He started asking about Ash Wednesday and what it meant to us. With simplest knowledge I explained, this is a practice to remind people to repent, and that we came from ashes and unto ashes we will return. Further I said, Ash Wednesday is not a day of obligation; however it starts the holiest season in a Catholic’s life. Thus Abraham commented, he has friends who doesn’t believe in the creation and only believed in science. Friends who do not have any religion at all. Having heard that and for fear that he might be influenced later, my motherly guts tried to find an excuse not obvious enough, to discourage Abraham in associating with these group of friends. But Abraham whom I guess is smarter than I am, already knows what runs in my mind, said, “That’s why I know they are real friends Mommy. Even though they do not belong to any religion, they respect my religion.” I held-off my tongue and in my mind I thought, the younglings know about respect and acceptance of other beliefs, then who am I to discriminate.

I remembered, I, myself, have a close friend who doesn’t have a religion too. When she was born, she said, her mother registered her name through the hospital and straight home they went. No baptism followed, no confirmation or anything when she reached teenhood. She never attended any church but grew up to be a fine and respectable person, perhaps better than many who have religion but don't practice the deeds of their belief. I recalled when we watched the movie The Passion of the Christ; she paid serious attention to the film. It was nice of her to be open-minded.

In the afternoon, we rushed to take our dinner and went to church to have our forehead marked with ashes and to pray for my mother-in-law who passed away this day last year. We had this mass offered for her and the timing coincided with the marking of ashes. Before we stood in line, Abraham asked, “Mommy what will I say after the priest put the ash?” I said, “Amen.” And he asked again, "What do the priest say when they put ashes?" I told him to listen to what the priest is saying.

In the car, on our way back home, he repeated what the priest said when he had his forehead signed with a cross…”Turn away from sin and believe in the gospel.” I remembered the DJ on the radio…I wish he will be blessed with knowledge and hope that by next year he won’t greet his callers Happy Ash Wednesday again.

mini thoughts

2 Baby Sitters

Lemuel attended a babysitting class last Saturday in Pasadena, the same training Abraham attended four years ago. Both brothers are now Red Cross-trained sitters, sitting themselves. Both can offer their services to outside parties as well…nice.

Switching bags – not a good idea

I enjoy seeing ladies who matches their bags with their clothes or accessories. I know someone who does, as frequent as every other day. I tried once to switch bags, I forgot my building pass. I tried the second time – I forgot my parking pass. I don’t want to try the third time.

Super awake

It’s hard to get up in the mornings especially when it rains. I tend to be so slow and sleepy even at breakfast table.

Abraham suggested I take my coffee from this huge bowl – so I’ll be super awake. The teen makes sense.

Pay per view

Living in the City has its pros and cons. One biggest disadvantage is the high cost of rent. But then, you get to see this everyday…

From my bedroom window, the Hollywood sign (center) and the Griffith observatory (right).

From the children's bedroom window, the heights of Downtown Los Angeles, sorry no picture, pay per view :-)

Living in the center of the city meant my everyday route include...


The Walt Disney Concert Hall at Grand Street.

Living in the city meant being close to work.










hmmm...

'till next entry!