buttony muddle-headed...

I should give credit to my friend ficklefish for the term "ideation". I'm thinking. I'm thinking. I had this talk with another dear friend that got me thinking. This is what I have to leave this blog for now. Leave this blog for now? But blogging I won’t.

Labels: rant

A few days ago, I was at an Internet café and nearly had a heart attack sitting next to a high school junior. At first glance, she looked seraphic though more sophisticated compared to juniors my time. With eyebrows lifted and lashes permed, she’d make it to “The OC” cast. But when she spoke, oh my, she’d make it to death row.

She swore like a madman. She had all the profanities to call a slow, unstable Internet connection. Let alone she had all the necessary energy to kick and grunt profusely because a picture took half a minute to load in a café of full seating. And then she cursed out loudly, successfully calling everyone’s attention, because she couldn’t decide which of her photos to make primary in her precious Friendster account. With already “a parent” added to my credentials, I would have shushed the girl but I decided against it. I let her be.

Relishing the moment of tranquility destroyed, I came to reflect. If she’s the prototype of 21st century adolescents the society’s been trying to build then I think I’ve got a whole lot of catching up to do in how to become a parent for the 21st century. Seriously, how do you build one?

Labels: rant

For the first time in this blog life, I can’t seem to write anything that matters (enough to me). :hide: But seriously, I believe I'm currently in the dichotomy of the idle and the busy. :hide again: So let me go ahead and bring on...tsaraaan…

Tea Time

One day soon, Khandi would ask me, “Mom, where did I get these dimply hands?” I, without a sound, would show her this picture. Wihihi.

Labels: rant

Today is one of those days when beds are puffed up, when eyelids are toilsome, when hands are ready to beg and when knees are quick to bend.

And when you move you are Atlas forced by Zeus.

And when you speak you are Der Fuhrer the dictator: you kill, you scorn and you die in the content of your cognition.

And when you stop you watch the hovering clouds an inch away from precipitation making you sweat, pant and thirst. Look away you are skittish. Bask in you drown.

And when you cry you are the Town crier: you squall the orders of the King, you declare someone’s interment but you speak yours. You mourn yours.

Labels: confusecius

Like finding a newly discovered zest, I am scrabbling and amassing a number of recipes in my spare time. My hands just couldn’t keep from writing as my mind keeps wandering that in a month or so, I would see my husband’s face glow in taste again.

I’m no skillful cook but I can prepare “hot” meals. But ever since I gave birth, seldom did I fix meals and knickknack. Not doing so two weeks after labor you call it exhaustion. But four weeks is too long a fatigue.

I don’t think it was PPD. Yet contrary to my joyous prenatal days, I was feeling weepy and emotional in my postnatal. I’ve never cried so hard and I’ve never enjoyed staring blankly at the walls so much. Let alone I was an emotional hugger-mugger of panic and helplessness. Even while nursing Khandi, I remember myself crying and feeling sorry for my baby and that I had to just keep on apologizing to her for something I can’t even put a label on. And when my parents had to leave, I cried like a baby to my mother without saying a word why. But they had to leave and I had to either sink or swim.

I guess I swam, in the midst of being judged amiss and being pierced by unwitting criticisms. But in my floating I decided to write about this later so words won’t dig so deep. I’m nowhere near peaceful now but I have a marriage to survive, a child that inspires and a lifetime to cook about. Hopefully, everything picks up.

“…You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise…”

-Maya Angelou

Labels: rant

I found out a few months ago when we visited a bookstore. We were going over the less than P20 book section. Not quite amused with the finds, I turned to leave. But my husband remained still. I followed his gaze to the stack of books in front of him and voila, a group of Star Trek series it is! At first, I thought to myself, this might just be a fleeting book theme diversion. He must’ve enjoyed devouring the Arthur Clarke books I have. But when he just couldn’t decide which Star Trek sequence to choose, I smelled something dorky (sic). I tried to help him but he was always saying, “I’ve already read that.” or “We (my family) already have that.” That left me kind of dolt.

Then recently he asked what was on television. I shook my head and muttered that I didn’t have any more clues to give him but flying saucers and Star Trek-like. Launching himself like a projectile, he rushed to check it out and in less than a minute, returned to the room low in spirits. It wasn’t Star Trek. That moment, I found unfamiliarly cute. I let out a chortle and teasingly asked him since when had he become a trekky (sic). He turned to me, smiled and coolly did the Vulcan greeting. Waaah! It takes more than a fledgling to do such finger-twisting stunt! Where is my husband?! Jk.

Labels: hubby discoveries

You may consider this as one risible coming-clean-blog antic but seriously, Maria Flordeluna has found a special breed of fans in our household. Every night at around 8pm, cell phones are ignored and alternate shouts at characters (“Tulisoka ang mata ni Mamita!”) are heard in the living room as we glue ourselves to the boob tube. And if someone would snap a picture, this is how it probably looks like: my father is splayed on the wooden sofa with my mother next to him, Jenny is stretching dinner for an hour, munching only during commercials and I am probably, while keeping an eye on the television, either carrying Khandi or freshening her up for bedtime or lulling her to sleep. Yep, Khandi is no exempt. :hide:

And like a written rule, “no bathroom breaks please” as Maria Flordeluna is out to save her quite infantile world. Yet in case someone balks, punishment awaits by getting shushed in the attempt of asking what was missed and so the piteous feeble will be forced to remain confused until enlightenment comes in the next commercial break. :hide: Seems like some stone is forming somewhere in some diehard fan’s kidney. Probably. But Flordeluna, always an effective distraction, is ending soon ... soon enough to retard the stone’s growth. Tawing.

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Tea Time

Tired of NOT getting the things you want ALL at the same time? You’d better take this from Khandi…”Use your feet!” wihihi.

A few months ago, a dear old friend called up. We chatted, laughed and at some point, let the cats out of the bag. Then the subject moved on to that network that we agreed to be warm and friendly. But at the end of that tête-à-tête, those wholesome adjectives easily fizzle out. While the network was capable of bringing old and new friends, and families closer, it was also a fictile place for “lonesome” people to dwell on resulting to online trauma. As a result, a few of my chums are extra careful, choosier now in putting back the mesh. Some of them even opted for anonymity, which can be very tricky. Innovative surfers know just how not to make it last long.

I feel a little sorry for what has transpired save for my father who I'm thankful for in his paranoid way of closing the lower glass louvers of our windows. I have come to appreciate privacy and what follows after it – faint entries, familiar contacts. But still, I have had my own bout of trauma in probably another form of gravity.

Yet I won’t be deleting anything nor would I be making this niche exclusive or substantiate anonymity. I have shared this to few, significant people and I care less about the consequence. Just as long as there is time travel in the brain, I’ll be okay. The human brains are designed so that we can go wandering in time and have few experiences as possible in terrible things. While some of life’s lessons are acquired in the moment, that particular life lesson was revealed after the fact – “I see why that happened. I should have never let …” The experience is over but has become a milestone stuck in my brain for me to go back and see what I have learned and still can learn.

Labels: rant