Jacksons take the stage…

I am on the side of Elizabeth Taylor on wishing a solemn service for MJ.

not to say that it’s all hype, but it’s too much.

Michael is no ordinary person, he lived for the world and the world will ask for too much.

His family sure had an option to keep it privy, but they didn’t.

Whatever is going on in their minds, we’ll never know.

Iconic deaths

It sure has been a sad tough time in Hollywood and the entire world of entertainment around the globe to lose two icons in a day. Farrah Fawcett’s passing sure was sad but not necessarily shocking. She has been battling cancer for quite sometime and we can say where she is a better place. Her tumultuous time on earth has gone.

Michael Jackson was over and done before he was gone and it was not at all fair. MJ possessed great talent, exhibited too early, he lost his childhood in the service of entertainment. He might not have lived a full life, rather a life of odd complexities—of unending controversies that overshadowed his true worth. All that just so the world’s longing to see a succession of failures around a successful person can be sufficed and later on realize that he is after all a human being capable of throwing his life around.

In his death, the little time he had for himself and his supposed family is in question. The cause of his demise posted speculation. Are his kids really a product of his loins? Did he die a natural death or of medication?

 But what truths does the world need? How much of it should be put out for the world to know? Does MJ really owe the world an explanation and back stories of his life and death? Are the truths behind what we know truly for our consumption?

There is a reason why he kept his children’s physical identities under masks and seal his days as a father in privacy. His life was never simple and never away from public scrutiny. It is but normal to wish his children to have a private, normal childhood. Childhood—a part of his life that he lost and longed for , thus calling the Neverland Ranch his home.

Maybe the world’s wanting to know too much is normal but too much information isn’t. MJ had a life he kept away from the world, a life that he deserved. It may contain ugly and beautiful truths that he took with him in his last breath.

He had a lot to be remembered by, why spoil all that.

Confessions on the dental chair

There will always be things that compel us to do as what we do. We go to parties to booze up and spend a good time with friends and possibly meet a like-minded person who can be a friend or a buddy in other ways , we go to work to deal with our jobs and accomplish things in a day’s work. I go home with different reasons every night, say to cook my packed lunches for the whole week, host a coffee shenanigan with friends and most times be by myself and get a rejuvenating rest.

My dental scare has caused me too much pain and cost me 3 weeks of antibiotics. My dental visits has become a regular thing in the past month, the first 2 visits was not much of a threat until I was advised to get an extraction. I need a compelling reason or that something I can look forward to, as if torturous tooth and gum aches isn’t reason enough, I need something I can enjoy even for a while.  Waking up early today, I’m all but terrified just thinking of a needle going through my gums, a couple of hours  with an open mouth garbling words while I try to tell the dentist how my gum feels.  And then I thought, the dental chair is quite comfy, I’d like to have a piece of furniture that has a contour of a dental chair. It is now set, I’m compelled to see the dentist if only to enjoy the comfort of the dental chair.

I never got used to going to the dentist, I remember most my dental visits during the time my milk teeth were starting to fall off and permanent ones began to come up. That’s how rarely I go and most of those times, I run away and hide. I probably extracted most of my front teeth, I just really couldn’t pull out my molars. Had I discovered back then that the dental chair was sooooo comfy, today would have been less of a nightmare.

Three vials of anesthesia and painstaking uprooting, the culprit has not surrendered. I could swear I have not seen the screwdriver-like tools before, the tools they used to loosen the culprit of its roots. It’s too tight on the bone they had to drill and crack bits of it but nothing helped. The anesthesia was wearing  off quick, they say its because I get nervous much while all that time, I was thinking to myself “they know what they’re doing.” I guess my tolerance for pain is not above the pain I have to endure. Now, I have another week of religiously taking antibiotics before I rest my back in agony on that dental chair .

No alcohol and no staying up late. It looks like my menu for the week will be compose of  soups from grandma’s recipe.

Tata for now to weekend debaucheries! I gotta be alcohol-free.

Thanks much Kath for coming with me to the dentist today, sorry for what you had to hear.

Happy Father’s Day Daddy

Happy Father’s Day daddy! Wherever you may be, it just has to be a better place.

Twenty years gone, the 20^th of June  has been like any other day. The drama does not have to go on but life has. And how do I celebrate life on the 20^th year of my dad’s passing away? I spent a night on a hill with fabulous friends gulping vodka, Red Horse and cocktails till the sun came up and the greens  painting the horizon were visible to my hazy eye.  I’m not actually there to observe my dad’s anniversary but rather to have a send-off party for Jodie. But that’s how the start of the day ended—or the end of the day started (lol).Anyhow, it’s June 20^th and I’m 20 years an orphan.

I took off to go home and get some sleep till the sun came down and then headed  for the Fete de la Musique event in Metrowalk with friends.

Back in my lily pod and doodling with my lappy,I asked myself—what do I remember about this day in 1989? I was 7 and clueless, walking in the street of I don’t know where, tagged to my sister’s hand. All I know is that we’re going to the hospital to see daddy. We were late. It seems everything from that hour to the first day of his wake is a blackout for me. It was the feat of what happened after the interment that I don’t want to remember.

It’s now June 21^st, 2009—Father’s Day. Happy Father’s Day dad. Love you always.

Reachin’ Out

Charity work is one of my those things i have been meaning to do. I just havent gotten around it.  Thanks to our concerned client,SCA Hygiene makers of Drypers Wee Wee Dry diapers,  i and my office family scratched the
surface of spending a meaningful weekend with children of White Cross Children’s Home in San Juan.

I was out late the night before like most friday nights, i knew gettin up on an early saturday morning is gonna be a feat but i was up for it anyhow. Sleep deprived with drops of alcohol in my system, I was puzzled when my alarm went buzzing on a weekend morning which i normally spend curled up in bed. I kept it ringing and
it finally came to me that I gotta get up and be somewhere, doing something worthwhile. It’s quite a miracle that i
didnt hit the snooze button and go snoozing. I was happy to get up despite the bed weather that I love to sleep in.
I just thought it was early and there’s lots of the time to catch up with my pillow.

At White Cross, our dear clients were already fixing up for games. We assembled party hats while chatting it up as we go. Jollibee personnel were also gettin ready with treats, games and Chickenjoy. I dont think anyone of us had breakfast, so we were all over the party packs but couldn’t and shouldn’t be drooling over it. It’s our version of fasting.

After getting it all together, the swarm kids from the home came out to the hall. Soon as they came, we quit chatting and helped out bringing the toddlers down the stairs.It’s overwhelming to see that much kids living in one roof and painful to think why they are all there. Cant help but ask why? If i didn’t catch myself offguard, someone would catch me jerking tears looking at all of them. Its a good thing we’re not in the home for the aged, otherwise I dont know how to contain my emotions. Visiting a home for the oldies is next in line, until then I gotta keep myself together and try not to hate or judge their effed up families and the stories behind everyone there.

Jav and Nikky both had their hands around their little girls while Jay was being pulled around by a little boy.
Before getting to the feeding, the bigger kids performed a nerve-racking “sayaw sa bangko,” i thought why such near dangerous number?
teachers/caretakers also provided entertainment doing a Filipiniana dance. Parlor games from Jollibee followed, then the much awaited
distribution of party packs. At last,breakfast with kids having their lunch. The “Pabitin” was put out and i didnt even see it. The kids we’re quick to pull everything out, the cameras didnt catch up. We distributed loot bags with help from Sherilyn’s kids Paoie and Quirsten, Pinky’s little boy Enzo and Diane’s daughter Alex.The kids were soonafter whisked back to their dorms.  We turned over boxes of Drypers Wee Wee Dry diapers together with used toys and canned goods, biscuits, clothes and blankets. I feel horrible, I wasnt to bring anything i planned to because i came home late.

White Cross is home to 82 abandoned children from newborn to 6 years old up for adoption. We were shown around the facility and peeped at the infant dorm windows, the adorable toddlers’ room and the dorms of the 3 year old kids we were just playing with at the hall. Surprising to see kids this age fold their own blankets. The facility is well maintained and the kids are well taken care of. I was told other children’s home are not as good and that is our next project.We’re keen on doing charity visits a regular thing and looking forward to opening up realities hidden from our regular world.

Life Crisis

I’m in the middle of something or so i feel like i am. i am shaken by recent events leading to a meltdown of sorts and a full awakening from a dream that has long ceased. i can put myself out there, in crowded rooms, drowning in music and noise,  under a cloud of smoke, gulping alcohol, being whisked away and spending weekend nights groovin to chemical happiness in every dance floor i can square yet still–i cant shake it off my head. i just know i gotta be elsewhere. this seemingly light load is not doing me good either, gives me time to entertain evil thoughts and drifting away.

Thai dining–Street style

street dining

There’s a relatively new dining hangout at the end of Kalayaan ave.Relatively new to me at least. It was introduced to me by my buddy Ed which we went to check out with Swissy. SOMs serves Thai Cuisine, really yummy. The food and dining is an experience wrapped together. its like eating in the good ole carinderia, it actually is except its not carinderia price but rest assured you get what you pay for. This is street style dining with a twist, there’s an aircon room for those who choose not to inhale burned gas and avoid stray cats lurking at their feet, just pay 10% more.

SOMs  is now a dinner destination of Makati yuppies and Rockwell neighbors. Go for great food and make sure you bring good company, crave for nothing fancy.

 

 

the not so fab crab cakes, least fave among the feast we had

chicken in coconut milk soup--i dont know how they call it

the salad that had nothing in it that i eat--tomatoes, onions and iceberg

green curry

garlic shrimp---pure love

what is this again?

swissy

bagoong rice

Rhythm of the rain

On these hot summer days, i didn’t think walking in the rain home was a possibility. And then it came, it poured and washed away the tension off me; at least for the night. 

I sat quietly looking out at the sky, cool breeze and gentle droplets on my face, cigarettes in hand–my little piece of heaven.

Turned the lights down with a soft light to let me see pass the shadows as i go back to reading Season of Mist, and eventually felt my eyes uneager to continue.

The rhythm of the rain brought calm. It is the music in my ears and the music i hear on my way to sleep.

When i had the time…

when little girls scribbled hearts and stars, i painted trees and sky. 

while teen girls blushed with fresh flowers, i dried and preserved them

when the papers have been read, i mashed and gave it new life.

while they used their pens writing love and hate notes, i sketched landscapes

while they spend on lipsticks and things, i spent for brushes and paint.

while they work their eye shadow and maskara, i studied shadows and light.

while they got rid of oil on their faces, i used oil and tried to paint faces.

while they wished for the universe to connive with their wishes, i drew the stars and the cosmic sky.

All of this when i had the time….it’s not much but its mine

A year hence….

It’s exactly a year since I found myself in extreme independence and in the comfort of living on my own. About this hour, I lay on the floor surrounded by boxes; sweaty, worked up, thirsty and starving that I and my best friend explored the streets to grab a bite. I don’t remember having slept that night, I was planning the space where I’ll dwell, thinking what things I gotta buy but mostly,  I was anxious to go out and buy a pail and dipper for my mini shower, of all things.

 

Days went by, the room started to take shape and interior management begins to spawn. Meals were the difficult part since I had to live on prepared meals from fast food chains and stores around my new neighborhood. I remember having Martin over with our packed meals we ate while we sat on the floor. It took a month or more before I could retrieve my fridge from my sister and only then can I stock and prepare my own meals. Crazy constructions and fund exhaustion went on for a few months buying this and that to complete a bachelorette pad.

 

Soon enough, pasta and coffee parties came on then drinking sessions and other crazy stuff with friends for the spirit of fun; a never ending celebration of independence. My sisters would often sleepover, on weekends of all days which I dread coz they cut my party nights short.

 

The best thing about all this is I longer waste time being pushed around on the train and braving traffic to get to the office, now I just walk 12 minutes on my hi-energy mornings and 15 on sleepy slow mornings. It’s a perk to come home and find everything the way I left it, well except for the dishes I tired off to do at breakfast.

 

There sure are things I miss about living with family, I don’t quite like waking up to the chaos of my nephews pointing fingers on who should get up first, but its one of the things that may never be again, and I miss it or maybe I chose to really give it a miss.

Among many things…

I miss racing with my sister to the shower on her lazy mornings when were both running tad late.

 

I miss waking up to the smell of fried eggs and hotdogs and breakfast cooked before I wake.

 

I miss the smell of freshly ironed clothes and the sight of bubbles flooding the backyard.

 

I miss the aroma of fresh cut grass and watching dead weeds turn green in the first rainfall after the summer.

 

I miss planting with my grandma on weekends.

 

I miss building dioramas and scale models with my brother.

 

I miss strumming my guitar for my pseudo band with my sister on keyboard and  my other sis on vocals.

 

I miss sneaking out to smoke and then hurt myself entangled in vines and bruised by tree branches as I try to hide, yet letting the smoke out.

 

I miss running home to  home-cooked dinners that I can only attempt to do myself.

 

I miss strolling the malls with my nephews

 

There are many things I’ll gladly go back to but more to bury. I’m comfortable living the way I do, this is how I wanted it anyway.  I do have moments when I think back and wonder if things didn’t happen the way they did. Lately, with home visits I do for work, my mind wandered and I realized there’s still a part of me that hopes to be under the same roof with my sisters and nephews. But then again, NOOOO!

 

We are where we ought to be.