buttony muddle-headed...

she writes.
Blood in your
mind, induced.
Blind by the exploit of words in her enterprise,
you'll cough out her phlegm.
The stink,

she speaks.
Spittle in your
mouth, envenomed.
Float with her uhms and enunciation,
you'll maze to her race.
The pity,

she incarnates.
Waters in your
eyes, beguiled.
Hop on to her strange back.
Caution: No stepping back.
For
you'll never go back,
You'll never go back.

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I thought I only wrote this poem for myself. But now it seems that I was writing it for quite a number of people. And I hear it's shooting up. Hmm. La lang. Share ko lang. Nyorks.

Labels: my own poetry

Five years ago, I would never have flatly denied that I was living a flat life. Everyday life was work and home and what came in between work and home was more of an aggravation rather than repose to me. It was perturbing. Then out of the blue there came a cerebration, wondrous and devil-may-care. I just had to break away from scut work’s fickleness by doing something somewhere. It just needs to be something but it needn’t have to be splendid.

Probably seeing me world-weary at that time, a good friend winked and whispered the words that would soon become banned and blocked by short-sighted management-kuno engineers, “peyups.com”. That friend was already “ficklefish” and I turned “uma_wutanya”. Oh-la-la. Hihi.

Up until now I don’t think there was anything contrite about it. The experience might have been fleeting but boy, was it a blast. Peyups aroused quite a number of sedated Iskolar ng Bayans. It’s arguably a cerebral spot and yet was an amusing pastime for blasé surfers. And most significantly, it foregathered free-spirited individuals—converged to prove there’s something more than meets the eye.

EBs, we’ve had it with a bonus of sincere friendships. Articles, we’ve had it approved and published. Peyups Addict, we’ve raced and reached it. While some may say it was all for the fun of it, something in me says it all was for the challenge of it. There can only be two words to describe the peyups craze -- ephemeral yet splendid.

This photo made it to POTD. Haha. All red and drunk. (Photos courtesy of Philowl)

With rustyangel and Philowl. Gee, looking like a boy here. hihi.

Labels: celebration

If you’re four months old and you already have two lower-front teeth and your parents can’t seem to decide whether to give you a teether you could bite on or not, what would you do:

A. Smile sweetly to everyone passing by

B. Chew on your bib like it’d turn into bits and pieces
C. Droll on your bib until it annoys you, hoping it’d appear annoying to adults too
D. Burble your way out of it and pepper it with some adorable little shrieks
E. Do all of the above

Khandi’s answer: E. wihihi.

Labels: celebration

It was not that too long ago when I first discovered the Internet. And it’s kind of embarrassing because I was already attending college at that time. How naïf I was. And that first picture I vividly saw on screen was Rose and Jack of Titanic. :hide:

Since then, Internet became a place to devour. It was through this network that I was able to customize my PC’s wallpaper with celebrity images. It was through this web of info that I got a line that Tina Arena has released quite a number of albums before Don’t Ask. And most strangely, it was through cyberspace that I found an outlet to workplace boredom, thus, the mikikikwik-iki-iki-bibis transpired.

And so there was web page making. I’d say it was rearing the narcissism era. The glass surface began to get polished. I had my contribution to that. I was teaching students to make their own web pages where they have to come up with stories about themselves and upload images of themselves.

Then the mirror was formed and everything was looser. No need to learn HTML to join the rampant, grampus-like world of egocentrism. You can just sign up and within a few seconds, you’re writing your own self-important diary entries. Or to blot things out, you’re blogging, contributing content to the web. And if you get lucky with the referral links and all those codes, someone outside your circle gets to read it. Bang goes the hit for the nth visit to your site.

And now since you’re reading mine, I got lucky and I am no exemption as one of anyone who publishes on the web. But the distinguishing question is what do I shoot for in doing so? What I know for certain is that I'm aspiring to shoot far beyond the point of being read. Turning the tables around, what do you aim for?

Labels: rant

Happy 1st Anniversary, Josh!

Boy, look at our little trophy. hihi.

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Tea Time

When Mark Wahlberg, producer of HBO’s Entourage, was asked who’s in his entourage now he said, “The new entourage is my girls, a nanny, a diaper bag. You’re supposed to grow up and become responsible.” Speaking of what underwear can do to a once infamous boy. Hmm. I’m beginning to like this man even more. hihi.

Labels: celebration

My husband snores a lot. You could actually tell just by looking at his chubby physique that he can snore to as loud as 70 dB. And I’d be hypocrite to say it’s not a nasty chafe to me. :hide: It disrupts not just mine but both our sleep like an express train has just passed by us while slumbering.

But it turns out that sleep apnea is just one of what’s troubling sleepers. There could be as much as 90 sleeping disorders and one of which is the far-famed sleepwalking. Then there are the sleep eaters that I just recently knew of. What they do is head directly to the kitchen and do things such as gulp down cooking oil. Nyarks.

Yet, I’m not whiling away in these second-hand maladies to buoy up what my husband has. There’s surgery for treatment, which is the least interest of our pockets and us. Then there’s CPAP mask, which compresses air through a mask to open a patient’s airway that reduce snoring, that’s expensive, too. So what we both agreed to rely on is to have him lose extra weight and make him lie down to his left for now. But evidently, slimming down can be very challenging and takes time. It makes us lose heart sometimes.

And now, here come studies that link snoring to ruined sex lives and broken marriages! Tsk. Give me that CPAP mask at once! :hide:

Labels: rant

All right. So this headset is as light as a feather, let alone it'd let you watch and listen to TV without being annoying.

But doesn’t it make you look weird? At first glance, I really thought the couple was wearing neck braces that I wondered what they were smiling about despite their hapless situation. And for only $79. 95?! :hide:

Oh well. What innovative technology does to rid a petty vexation of TV. At least it won't mess up your hair. hihi.

Labels: rant

Living with your folks brings about a couple of twitches to your neurons. One day, they'd discuss political sympathies and the next day they'd express witticisms over the inevitable subject of wrinkles.

My father would look at my mother jokingly and tell her which part of her is saggier compared to his. This could have bruised any other wife's feelings but my mom knows better how to take it. She retorted, "Why argue who's aging more? Getting old is not that difficult to accept, is it?" I know the basis where she's coming from. Oftentimes, my mother's been mistaken to be my father's daughter. While my mother was called "tiya", my father was "lolo" to our neighboring children. So with that, I think I know who's having difficulty accepting age. The clues were all there. *peace

I won't be siding one of them nor will wrinkles be the nub of this entry. But here's a pic of what my folks looked like, almost 30 years ago.

Both of you were once young, without wrinkles. Then you had us children. That'd be 3 wrinkles to the forehead. Then how about the sleepless nights because one of us is sick? That'd be the numberless lines below your eyes. And then what about the 15 years times 3 that you had to do wise math to fit the scanty budget so we all go with the rest of the other kids in school? That'd be infinite.

But look at you two, you aged gracefully. It must all be because of love. Your children couldn't be any luckier. Thank you.

And to you Mama, Happy Mother's Day! =)

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Tea Time

Just 8 days shy for her 4th month, we discovered 2 peculiar things about Khandi. And that is, one, she has two white hairs and two, a visibly growing tooth…already! Tawingwingwing. I'm a little dazed right now. Hihi.

Labels: celebration

The week is ending and I feel the rush. Suddenly there are deadlines to beat, ties to beef up because the world tires us easily with mediocrity and comparability.

It’s time to draw demarcation lines and appraise capabilities. Can’t help that tingling feeling in a mind that is thought to be somewhere in the brain that is thought to be boundless.

And it’s perfect to ideate what’s to lose and what’s to come, when you only have a hatful of possessions but yet a big assumption of accessions.

I have no idea what this day could lead up to. But I’ll be placing a mark so I know when to look back and know where to which I’ve headed.

Labels: rant

I’ve noticed I’ve been addressed as “madam” more frequently now than ever. My age and motherhood must have creased my forehead (some more), sagged my breasts, spotlit flaccid muscles and hardened the supposedly swaying coxa. I may also have gouged it by my “funny” (a student once said) eyes and “commanding” (hopefully not overtopping) voice.

I don’t know how the word “madam” works for you but I only have myself to blame for what it means to me. The pith really is I take “madam” to be kind of insulting sometimes.

When I was still a student, I call a teacher “madam” when she’s either an old maid or old (40s and beyond) and married. And that same manner of address applies to acquaintances and later on to customers when I started working. Obviously, I have come to associate “madam” when the person has an aura of “oldness” in her. Also, this is what I address to pacify customers who are hostile and rude. So count in the aura of “sternness” to the word, too. There goes my slapdash thinking.

Feeling old and wicked, I gave myself a favor and looked up for the definition of the word “madam” by convention. There I found, “madam: a woman of refinement”. Now that’s something, eh? Let me bask in that meaning for now.

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Tea Time

May 8 is my husband’s birthday and so we feted him the whole day. We traveled to Baybay for half an hour; ate delectable barbecue and left the place with (shining) empty skewers in an hour and a half. We were so full that we were surprised to find ourselves home already and hungry again. Hihi.

No pictures. I’ve had enough of camwhoring. Let me just leave this message:

Happy 31^st Birthday, bibi, bibi Buts! :kotc:

Labels: rant

My blog may sort of give the impression that I’m a memoir-writing Gen X parent ‘cause obviously, I do have writings about my amusement of my months-old tot and I do belong to the said generation. But I’m quite sorry to say I can’t be that hip. I simply can’t keep up with the coolness of others who seem to take the word “fucker” to be a synonym of “baby, toddler, child, etc”.

And I’ve read about this “The Rockabye Baby” CD that contains a series of songs by bands such as Cure and Radiohead. It’s supposed to tranquilize, er, put your baby to sleep. I may like some of their songs but I don’t think I favor them much over the classic Rock-A-Bye baby, Tomorrow, The Alphabet Song that I do sing to lull my Khandi to sleep. But I’ll be open for Lisa Loeb, who like other alternative rockers, is said to have been recording CDs for their fans’ children. I’ll be cool enough as a parent for that. hihi.

Labels: rant

It’s not that I hate coffee but I do try to resist it. Maybe because when I was still a kid, my mom used to scare me by saying, “you’ll never grow tall when you drink it,” every time I ask for coffee instead of the wholesome milk. Who'd like to grow a midget? :hide: So it was always milk on my mug even until today. I’ve come to love milk. I mean really, I love milk. I loved it even more when added to tea.

Tea with milk soothes my nerves. I even share this enthusiasm with my husband who’s been complaining lately because I don’t prepare it as much as before (we got married). :hide: And so to all tea enthusiasts and serious aficionados, these are treats for you: Tearrow’s tea infused gum that comes in eight flavors and Tea cookies from Torn Ranch. Nam-nam.

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In line with my partiality for tea, from now on, I would name a portion of my blog as:

Tea Time

Khandi is nearing her 4^th month. At this age, she loves to lie flat on her tummy with eyes beaming wide, curious of the world before her. It seems we have one rummy tot. And did I mention she enjoys peek-a-boo? I didn’t? Well…peek-a-boo! She does. Hihi. This slide would serve as a children’s fashion catalogue rather than a coffee table, err, tea table book. Hihi.

[slideshow id=216172782121326394&w=406&h=310]

Labels: rant

I’ve had my bout of graveyard shift, let alone I was in my first and last trimester of pregnancy. I was a customer rep at an outsourcing company then.

The experience in the first tri was really not as horrible compared to the fourth one. During my first tri, there was this eagerness to learn and explore. I belonged to the 2nd batch of our account and it was a little straining in the sense that there were not enough precedents to look at and to look up to. It was challenging and not to toot my own horn, I love challenges. Between the first and last tri, I worked as a mentor. It was no problem pacing here and there, pointing this and that, as long as my shift was at daytime. Then in the last tri I had to go back to GY (as they fondly call it). There was no night I didn’t cry. I was feeling heavy and was making a great effort to smile all the way from 10pm to 7am. And I wasn’t getting enough sleep.

It’s not hard to consider that it'd be very difficult to get a good night’s sleep at daytime unless, you don't have a circadian clock. hihi. Even jet-lagged travelers could attest to this. Some would even succumb to prescription sleep aids just to get at least over 50% sleep.

But there's good news to all sleep-deprived workers and jet-lagged travelers. Here comes the melatonin supplement they can take 15-30 minutes before bedtime that can make them achieve 83% sleep efficiency (85%-95% is the ideal nighttime range). And take note, unlike sleeping pills the human body doesn’t build up a tolerance to melatonin. Taking 0.3-mg dose of the hormone works just a well as taking 5 mg.

Nope. Don’t call me doctor. But Do call your doctor regarding this.

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A friend asked me, “Have you reconciled…?”

I answered, “What for?”

If the foundation has long been shattered, there’s no point really. And if sincerity has not always been there, it’s never a necessity to look back. I learned my lesson well, earlier than others did and soon will.

Labels: rant

Over the years, Internet has been a reliable space to scour. Need a job? Google it. Looking for a love life? Search websites for online daters. I know a lot of people (including me) do this. And I know you know of some people, too. And you know that those some people know of some people, too. That would make hundreds of us doing one of the same things: applying for that same job, appearing on that same page with hundreds of others that online daters choose from. Now that’s competitive.

So what if I’d resort to hire my own personal marketing consultant? Eherm. In no time I’d not only find pitching myself in the job market and dating arena, I could be such a standout too. After learning that I majored Math in college, taught computer skills to both children and adult, has overseen a group of learning centers for some time and is deeply interested in writing, my personal marketing consultant would draft me a marketing plan around four qualities: a delight for complex analysis with computer expertise, strong leadership abilities and organizational skills and passion for writing. Now that would be my online identity, my brand new me - my best self ever!

But I kind of know what this would lead up to. I’d be a forceful advertisement drawn to forceful results. My new me contradicts the genuine me considering that it was professionally created. Yeah, I still could land a profitable job. But what if my boss wants me to solve that calculus problem for his daughter’s homework in ten minutes? That would be my pratfall :hide: The real me could be found out at the end.

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And so it seemed that I forgot to write about my possible new identity in the dating arena. I didn’t really. That text at the top leftmost side will be my advertisement. That's compelling enough. Hihi.

Labels: rant

I love my denim pants. They’re not designer jeans but they’re Levi’s with classic fit. They’d still be fashionable, pair-able, and wearable any time (at least to me). But whenever I gain weight, it’s usually the first one to give up. I don’t throw them away though. I keep them ‘til I could slide into ‘em again. Hihi.

So when I got pregnant, there go my pants in the closet even if they still fit me from my thighs down to my ankles until the 3rd trimester. It was actually the waistline the hamper. So then I embraced tights, which was okay yet a bore. Not to mention I had to wear longer maternity blouses to hide the mount down there. Hihi. What, maternity pants? They can get scary. What, maternity dresses? It just drives me off.

And so why did I miss this handy b-buckles by nom?! This could have been a savior; a money and a wardrobe saver (forget I’m a hoarder). I know it’s just a swatch of cloth that you could loop around your pants’ belt-loops but it has all the authority to say to my denims, “Congratulations.You just got extended”.

Labels: rant

My husband’s workplace is just less than a kilometer away from home. Thus, it was practical for him to hop on a bike to get there. Fact one: it’s his frugal way to save and fact two: it’s faster that way than to have to wait for a PUV. Yes, definitely something faster for a laggard. :hide:

But there were a couple of setbacks considering that my husband can get a little scatty. :hide: And so it wasn’t a shock when one day he lost the entire security system of his precious bike. Err, I meant the chain and the padlock. Sure he can buy a new set but matters were made even worse. One day, he locked the bike to the office’s (door) gate. But since we had this emergency situation, I had to come and pick him up on the way and he went under time. The result was horrendous. While we were at home sleeping soundly, his boss had been checking the office even at wee hours in the morning. It turned out that the gate couldn’t be locked since the forgotten bike gets in the way. :hide:

So when I read about these foldable bikes, I thought it’s a worthwhile treat for him. Made especially with small wheels and fascinating latches and hinges, the bike can (miraculously!) collapse down to the size of a suitcase. They’re high function, an all the rage. This wouldn’t just make my husband “hip” but think about it this way. He needn’t worry about locking it because he could bring the entire bike with him even in the absence of storage space. He can always place it at the side of his work desk. Wehew!

But hey, what if he forgets how to fold and unfold the bike? What if he’d leave it somewhere? Oh well. Those are questions of the mind of someone whose money is nowhere near $200 to buy a collapsible for her husband. Tsk.

Labels: rant