darna, darnita

Checked my Friendster account today and here's what I found in my very much crowded bulletin board, another forwarded message:

"If you have children who always watch Darna on TV ... Be careful!

I have a nephew (4yrs old) who died yesterday, after having swallowed the Chess piece (horse). I learned from the mother that this boy is always seen imitating the "Darna - swallowing object".

It happened so fast .. mother & child arrived in their house ... mother left the child in the room to prepare food. Away from her boy, the child swallowed the chess piece. Seconds later .. the boy went to her mom making her aware that he swallowed something.

Mom tried to pull out the obeject from the mouth & pat hard the back neck & chest to vomit it out but did not make it . So the boy was rushed to the Perpetual Hospital in Las Pinas which is just 1kilometer from the house but because of the traffic .. it took them 30 mins to reach the hospital. The boy was already pale black when they reached the hospital. The doctors tried to recover him .. within 10 mins the object was taken out from him but he was " brain dead" already ...

I am sending this message for our awareness & become proactive."

Mhel's first reaction: Bading ang batang yun! Akala niya si Darna siya eh!

My first reaction: Only the mother should take the blame. As a responsible parent, she shouldn't have let the boy watch TV unattended especially during primetime. As a responsible mother, she shouldn't even let the boy watch anything that clearly shows violence, hatred, anger, almost naked women. The boy is still young to even realize that he's watching a fantasy show. I dunno, I haven't got kids of my own but I know already that there is time for each kind of show. The boy's only four, for goodness sake! And what is depicted in this particular fantaserye is still beyond the grasp of any pre-schooler. Parents try to keep their kids at home, keeping them away from the harsh realities of life, but hey, some parents do not realize that the same realities are freely shown on television, sometimes even worse. I think I've said enough.

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Speaking of bading...did you know that the former child star, IC Mendoza, the grandson of the late Inday Badiday, is now fully out of the closet?!? I was shocked because he/she is one kikay bading! If you want proof, watch this week's Extra Challenge episode and IC will either make you laugh or drive you insane (as what happened to RS, hehehe gusto niya ilublob sa kumukulong mantika ang walang kamuwang-muwang na bading!!!).

first tourney experience

I thought we were gonna default our first game. I thought Mommy C couldn't shake the jitters off. I can't say I wasn't nervous. D**n I hardly slept the night before. But I was also excited.

We agreed to be at C650 at 10am, more than enough time to be ready for our first game at 1110am. I got there just in time even if my driver Mhel (teeheee!!) asked me to drive instead (he came from work). And Mommy C wasn't there yet. At around 11am, I got a text message from her saying that the fx she was riding in overheated. I panicked a little, even more when the heavy clouds finally broke into rains! Good thing the games did not start early/on time, our first game would definitely be delayed. Mommy C arrived all right and a few minutes after we were called for our first game. All games, by the way, are one set- race to 23 so there should be little room for errors, because once the opponents keep on gaining points, it's hard to catch-up (S**t I almost typed make habol instead of catch up!).

We were tipped that the first team we are playing against are "droppers" and even more terrifying -- "cross-droppers". Mommy C rolled her eyes because we've been practicing front-back positioning with her guarding the front side. And if the opponents are "droppers", Mommy C will have to move it, move it, move it. So we decided to try the side-by-side position. However, one thing I realized while on court is that (especially to new tourney players like us) it is hard to decide on one strategy and keep it for the rest of the game. You just forget and just get on with the game, one step at a time. I realized then that it was more important for me to stay at the back and return the opponents' clear shots because Mommy C was doing perfectly well at the front. And we were making points. During the game however, Mommy C requested that she stay at the back. She looked scared and tired that I just had to say yes. I couldn't tell her I was also anxious to take the front (I guess I recently lost my "front & drop charm") but we just had to support each other. It was afterall, OUR game. Mind you, we earned a couple or so points after we switched places!! We were losing hope as the other team's points were up to 22 (against our 16)! But they committed an error and it was time for us to add more points. I was the second server, our score was 19, when I committed a very unneccessary and stupid mistake: service mistake! I was definitely disappointed. I just gave the game away. We fought all the way to the end, 23-19. It wasn't at all bad but still it was disappointing losing a game we worked very hard for.

I can't remember much about our second game. But it was more fun than the first. And equally disappointing because I committed another service error at a crucial time of the game. We lost 23-10 eventhough we did our best.

Thank you to Mommy C for bearing with me. We lost both games but we still reached our goals: experience what it is like to play under real pressure, have fun, and get the freebies! There's another game on Saturday morning against the mislevelled mother and daughter. If we lose, we can always tell others a very acceptable reason: that we are not morning people...Heheh, ika nga nina Coach at J-le. Thank you to Mommy C's Papa M and my Mhel for the all-out support. And of course to the Baddicts! who cheered and cheered tirelessly, thank you for keeping our spirits high that day.

tourney jitters

I've been playing badminton for more than a year now. I'm not the best player there is but I've certainly improved my game. Thanks to Baddicts!, my badminton family.

Tomorrow is a realization of one of my goals. Yes, I'm playing my first ever tournament with Mommy C (first, if we do not count Daday's Cup and Mang Tomas Aber Cup heheh). What started as a joke became a serious task. We are, however, still after the freebies, nyeheheh. We almost never made it because I was in La Union during the Levelling Schedule. But thanks to the organizers, they held special Levelling days. And thanks to the organizers they didn't say "Uwi na lang kayo, kahit sa Level E (lowest) hindi kayo pasok," which I feared to hear, even though we played one set, love-set. Terrible. We didn't even sandbag.

And oh yes, I am nervous. Although we promised ourselves to just enjoy the games, I can't help but feel shaky and all. I know I will have to get through this. We've been practicing and my court rapport with Mommy C have improved a lot, I'd say. We can do this. Win or lose, it wouldn't matter. We'll get a shirt anyway. Wink!

But first, I gotta prepare my gear...

i belong...

I entered an all-girls high school and immediately realized I am different. I was just a probinsyana shy girl who was suddenly culture-shocked. A lot of girls were loud and boisterous and knew almost everyone. Although my parents also paid the same amount of tuition and I wore the same uniform, I felt like someone gatecrashing a grand party of sorts. I became insecure and refused to come out of my shell. And I never considered myself barkada-ish, and was even afraid I'd be bullied around (not that I was not bullied harharhar) by the girls who "owned" the stone tables under the mango tree.

I can't say I didn't gain friends. I did find friends every year, some of them I'm still in touch with until now. But I just didn't have a group I could call my own. I would spend recess times alone and I would group-hop during lunch. There was just no permanent group even until the last days of my high school life. Maybe I was aloof. Maybe it was my fault. I was always afraid of rejection.

So imagine my surprise when last week, I was invited to a get-together dinner with the same group I went to Junior Night with back in '94. I was hesitant to go but I was also excited to see familiar faces after all these years. And I'm glad I went. They seemed happy to see me. I was touched.

Tanya the lawyer, Me, Kuya Marky, Bankers Anna, Rosann and Rina. Jan and Pat left early.

Three of the guys we got close to back then were also there. What I thought would be an awkward night turned out to be nothing but fun-- full of stories and reminiscing. And what I thought would be just an hour of dinner extended to bonding over coffee until past midnight.

I'm touched until now. This group actually considered me their own. I guess it's never too late to say that I belong and I belonged all along. I probably just missed the signs.

pangarap

Ang pangarap kong




NATUPAD NA!!!!! TINGNAN MO...

Tsaka na ang kwento. Ngwekngwekngwekngwek. Basta sa Badminton Expo ko nabili yan!

painted face, terrorized boy, hitler in pain and jabee

I'm finally writing something about the fiesta in the town where I grew up. Every year is different. But this year's festivities proved to be the most unique. At least for me. I contributed more this year. Oh well...

I joined the celebration on the 16th. It was the Palaro ng Parokya, where I played a very important role -- a biatch. Nyahahahaha!! But you gotta be in my shoes to understand that the kids (even the elders) are so hard to manage. Sobrang kukulet kaya walang choice kundi magtaray! Ok ok, let's just say I filled the area with a lot of sarcasm. At 3pm the face painters arrived. I was first in line (of course), habang malinis pa lahat ng brushes!! Look what I got:

Cute, eh? There were a lot of games -- basag-palayok, pabitin, bike race, palo-sebo, doll hunt, hakot-itlog, pig chase and a lot more. Cash prizes were awarded to winners -- this is why the kids and adults were all fighting for a slot. There were 20 pabitins so you could just imagine the crowd we summoned. At one point, there was almost a stampede so we had to ask everyone to leave the area and we announced that the pabitins shall be done by group. So we asked all girls aged 6 to 10 for the first batch. But still there were boys who insisted to join, hurting the little girls. And then it happened. I literally grabbed one boy by his sleeve, brought him up to the stage and let the emcee announce that : "Etong batang itong nakaitim, babae daw siya. Kaya mamaya kapag mga lalaki na ang tatawagin, hindi na siya kasali. Tandaan niyo ang mukha neto." The boy was shocked and nearly in tears when I let him go. We are both victims of my terrible mood.

meet hitler

The pig to be chased around. This picture was taken before he was molested. We lovingly called him "babe" when he arrived but he was hungry he literally growled at me while taking this picture. He shortly became Hitler. Heheheheh. The lucky winner took him home to be served the next day plus cash. This was Hitler before he was let go:

Can you see those pleading eyes?!? To be honest, I almost cried for him. He wailed in pain after the chase. I couldn't even take his picture afterwards, out of respect to a pig holding on to dear life. I asked mommy to promise never to have a game like that ever again.

But all's well that ends well just the same. Everybody had fun especially when the Palaro was capped off by Dragon fireworks. Marvelous! And a short picture taking with a new friend:

The games and fireworks ended at 7pm...and we still had a function to go to: the Lakan and Lakambini night where I was chosen to present (and sponsor) an award. Now, aside from being the worst production I have ever watched (terrible terrible technical and logistical problems and worst answers heard from supposed to be intelligent teeners), they failed to even recognize me. And if you will ask me to tell you all about it, I might not finish. But if you will insist, my dear readers, I will tell you that night's anecdotes and you will be in for a laugh.

The next day and the first day of the actual fiesta, Gian and I joined the traditional street and church dancing. We see to it that we join at least once in three days that its fiesta. we heard mass as a family on the second day, at 5am. READ: 5AM! Yup I was awake and amazed that the church was evrything but empty. Afterall, people from different places actually visit us every year. Our church is a Pilgrim Church AND a tourist attraction. I won't be able to recall every bit of what happened but here are pictures I took. Maybe next year, you'll join us?!

update...

I live my life one day at a time. Because I can't afford to always plan my days/weeks ahead without something or someone getting in the way. And that's rather frustrating for someone who likes to control the time like I do.

You see I'm always about, driving around, doing errands. Some days are busy, other days seem empty. Sometimes I wake up feeling so unproductive and useless. Some mornings I tend to drag myself from bed and start the day really early, otherwise I won't be able to finish what I have to do.

This erratic schedule seemed perfect since I am my own boss when it comes to my time. But sometimes I wish I had a more regular schedule. I miss the routine, really. I know I gave up that kind of life a couple of years back. I dunno if I wanna return to that kind of life.

That's exactly MY problem. I can't seem to decide what I want. And what I need to reach my true self. Because I change my mind every so often I get irritated with my self. And also because for years I've been molded to become someone I am not, or so I think. I've been told what to do and not do. Sure, there are things I would like to try doing. And again, I am told what I can and cannot do. They must know me more. And most of the time, their decisions for me turn out to be right or the better alternative. What's frightening though is that I have become comfortable with the idea that there will always be someone to decide for me or someone to catch me when I make a mistake. Scary, because I am slowly turning into a wimp.

Oh no. This is not an update but a mere showcase of an insecurity attack. So I'll stop now.

There are so many updates in my mind right now...like the Fiesta Palaro yesterday and the Lakan at Lakambini Night last night and the Fertility Dance this morning. But I'm not in the mood to scrutinize right now. My head is still spinning from trying to understand last night's contestants' booboos and whatsits. Maybe later.

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Oh! A very Happy Birthday to my utol, Jeff of SNL. I miss your company! Bless you! (as if nababasa niya ito...)

leaders of tomorrow

On a rare instance that I'm watching Wowowee (rare, because I'm an Eat Bulaga fan), I was quite amused watching the portion "Willie of Fortune". Their contestants that day were supposed to be students who just graduated from High school. So I was somehow expecting to hear intelligent answers. Before the game proper started, the host asked all the contestants to speak in English. It was disgusting, much more disappointing. My spoken English is not perfect, I admit, but theirs were terrible, I'd say. But I stay tuned just the same as I waited or hoped to wait for witty answers. It proved to be a futile way to spend my time. Basing on their answers, they probably did not pay attention to their teachers' lectures. I simply refuse to unlearn some things, like:

Japan is the Pearl of the Orient, not the Philippines.
The T in UST is Technology, not Tomas.
Mars is the third planet from the Sun, not the Earth.

Other amusing facts as they deemed right:

Enrile is the proponent of "Let's DOH it!".
The Village People Filipino counterpart is the APO.

Ok, fine, they were under pressure. What pressure?!? Were they pressured to be funny? Yes, I was starting to believe that they were just nervous appearing on national TV. But how can one explain the speed by which they gave the correct answers to questions such as: "Who sang 'Top of the World'?" or "what is the nickname of Tirso Cruz III?" These kids probably have better things to do than study their lessons.

I hate to generalize but these are the future adults to run this country in twenty years or so. My gawd, I can't die and leave my children with these fools. Unless the government now, and most parents as well, realize how important education is, we're doomed. Maybe it's not yet too late.

dreams

They were having dinner at Burgoo Rockwell when they accidentally overheard the conversation from the other table...

Girl: ...They had kids first before they got married...
Sister: Oh yeah...
Girl:...actually, just one kid and then they got married...
Sister: Hmmmmm...
Girl: ...Yun naman ang pangarap niya sa buhay, to be a wife (perhaps a mother as well? --tin)...Yeah, that's what she tells her friends...

Meanwile, at their table, the couple sat silent for a while, digesting what they heard. And finally their eyes met -- both sets twinkling -- until...(no! they did not kiss!!!!)...

Him: Parang kilala ko yung pinaguusapan nila...
Her: Naman eh!
Him: Hindi nga...
Her: Eeyyynngggg!!!!
Him: Kilala ka ba nila?!? (with a grin!)

This is just a story worth sharing. He knows her inside out, that's for sure. If indeed her only dream is to be a wife, only him can ever make it happen.

Please hear what I am not saying...

Here is a piece we discussed in one of our major Psychology courses back in college. Thanks to Prof. Mendoza for sharing this with us. Now I'm sharing this with you...a space filler this is. My mind isn't working yet from the long hibernation. Ah, this will do for now. Bear with me.

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By Charles Finn

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I am afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled.
For God's sake don't be fooled.
I give the impression that I am secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only hope and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.

But, I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I am afraid to.
I am afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh,
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good,
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I am going through my routine,
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.

I don't like to hide.
I don't like to play superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me,
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes that
blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings,
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.

I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator - a honest-to-God creator -
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow world of panic
and uncertainty, from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to. Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.

A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me,
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man,
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls,
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands
but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.