My Life... A Cup of Deja Brew

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

RANDOMLY, DADDY

Mine will probably not be the hours emptied by your leaving but when it comes to time and you, I will be looking back from hereon to what has been instead of forward to what could still be, with the 'now' rendered non-existent. Time... the way it was for me... has stopped.

I wasn't the daughter with the fancy debut or the celebrated graduation. I did not even have a wedding banquet to speak of. But I remember being the daughter you would pick up at school late into the night after a string of meetings, often the only girl left, kept company by the guard at the gate. It will be dark by then but I always brightened up when your car ground to a halt. In my young mind, I always knew that no matter how late you came, Daddy would always come for me and there were no two ways about it. We'd be speeding along singing Michael Jackson's 'Ben' to the dark streets and it would crack me up whenever you made a spoof of it... 'like Ben-tot! Mabantot!'

Or sometimes I'd have a fresh list and I'd run down through my litany of jokes, the good ones I heard lately, which I would painstakingly write down on my writing pad, making sure I didn't forget the best parts cause it was so imperative that you got the joke. Sometimes you were so grave in manner, after a long and hard day, I felt it was up to me to give you your sense of humor back.

I was the daughter whom you promised to buy a box of Robina Farms fried chicken for the day of her field trip so she would have her fill (usually after a leg and a wing) and have some left over to share with her friends. I was up early that day, excited about the field trip and feeling proud about having a whole fried chicken to do with as I pleased. I took a peek in the refrigerator and there was no box. I was told that Daddy forgot. I ended up bringing some hotdogs and rice and a lot of disappointment instead. I have forgotten where we went but I remember having lunch at some wide-spread green with little rolling hills. And I remember seeing you making your way up to me with a box of fried chicken in tow. It came right in time.

I remember the countless times you had to pick me up from school in the middle of the day because I was again at the clinic complaining of some vague stomach ache. I remember you visiting me late at night, after work, and after having been to the other unit of the hospital where my brother was also sick, when they realized they had to cut me up because what I had wasn't a stomach problem but some cyst growing inside me. I was told you punched the wall and smashed your knuckles to avoid smashing the doctor's face who kept giving me antacids.

I remember sharing with you a love of the sea, of swimming, and of discovering secret little alcoves which proved the best sites for snorkeling. I remember watching all the little fish in all the beautiful colors with you and swimming around in circles like they did in the little sea pools under the rocks which you told me I should not be afraid of because they weren't going to crumble over our heads and bury us in the sand.

I remember you watching the waltz number I choreoghraphed for a Church fund-raiser and how you hugged me in pride at the applause that came after, knowing it was the first time I ever did such a thing.

I remember you picking me up at the Folk Arts Theater after watching a play and after meeting Tommy Abuel, the first and only movie person I ever met and whose autograph I had the guts to ask for. I showed it to you, flustered and elated, but the name didn't ring a bell with you. I decided he probably wasn't that great a guy after all. I was a fan for all of a day. Of course, it didn't occur to me that you probably didn't know him cause you never had time to watch either TV or the movies. You were always working.

I remember that you couldn't be at my highschool graduation because you had to be out of the country. Still, there were red roses for me, signed, 'Daddy.'

I remember asking you to trust me when I was trying to make up my mind to marry my husband and I remember you thanking me for telling you before I finally decided. I remember you telling him how you knew I wasn't perfect as nobody is perfect. That if it didn't work out, he was always welcome to send me back home, but that hurting me physically was never ever an option. You didn't warn or threaten him. You just asked him not to, like a pact that men sealed with a handshake. I'd like you to know that it worked Daddy, and I'm happy to have two gentlemen shake hands over my best interest.

I remember you giving me my first philosophy books. They were by Khalil Gibran, about 4 or 5 of them in a pretty little box. I remember the book covers came in rainbow colors and I remember feeling proud and all grown-up knowing you believed I had it in me to understand what was in them.

I remember spending summers in summer classes... dancing the hula, learning how to swim, playing the piano. I remember summers in YWCA, being picked up by one of your secretaries and being brought back to your office where I played secretary until it was time to go home.

I remember Hi-Top Supermarket where you always bought me a bottle of Horlick's Malteds cause there were times when they were all I cared to eat.

You were a jealous one too, I remember. You had to acknowledge the existence of Jay in my life and my need to form memories with him. Still you could not stand not being the only man in my life. It made you upset. So you withdrew and chose not to be there on occasions I would have wanted so much to share with you... the Ms Nursing pageant, for instance, or the dinner at Auntie Dens when I graduated from nursing school.

And there are the darker things too, unspoken of but which we struggled to understand and live with... or survive... just the same. These things weren't easy. It took a lot of growing up, of dying within ourselves so they didn't tear us apart.

When you caught TB and you were so scared we'd catch it too that you kept us all at arms' length and dealt with it all by yourself. I knew you were sick and I wanted to be there for you, to take care of you, but you pushed me away. I had to make up an alternative life because I had to fill in the spaces, the gaps, where there should have been Daddy moments. And every little thing that I stuffed those gaps with left a larger hole in what, up till then, was the only thing that remained steadfast in my life... that I was a daughter to you.

I remember how you once, in my young and impressionable years, got so upset with Mommy, how that got me so confused, how you seemed to me such a different man at that moment, how it first occurred to me that there could be reasons not to like Daddy after all. That realization scared me so much, Daddy, because no matter how many times you had to send me to bed without dinner in the past, I always came down in the morning in your arms, loving you even more. There was no disliking Daddy for me... ever. The thought was almost a sacrilege.

I remember how you were so strict that I could barely keep friends cause I was hardly allowed to go anywhere 'fun.' Oh I had my share of parties and adventures, not that you had to know about them all the time. You were such a child when you got upset that you just had to let it out no matter where we were, or who was present, or what the occasion was. You never apologized either, but in so many ways you would let us know that neither you were being too happy with yourself.

I'm turning up line after line of this stuff Daddy, and I'm not even sure how this would help me. You will still be gone after I strike the last key. I will still remember how you looked inside your coffin. I thought the things people said about you at your wake would add up to the things I already know and remember and somehow help me understand you better. Maybe I was waiting to be told that you left in God's gracious time and that everything has finally been made perfect. Isn't that what we, the ones that are left behind, are all seeking to know all the time?

While what was said may be true and good, they didn't really make me go beyond proud. Now that you are gone, they are just things that people say. But that's alright. I guess there's nothing more to add to what I already have... nothing especially that a random someone has had the good fortune to encounter in his lifetime. I will leave that alone. That is your legacy to them.

My father is this... my father is that...

In my heart of hearts, all I care about only goes up until... my father...

I miss you. Oh God, I miss you.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

EVEN IF I HAVE TO REMIND MYSELF THAT I'M DONE BRUSHING MY TEETH AND I HAVE TO TURN THE DAMN THING OFF...

It's alright, Daddy. I understand... time comes when we have to acknowledge that life has become too difficult that it's pointless.

You have lived your most. You have done your best. You have given us time.

You have loved.

Sige Daddy, sige. Tama na. Magpahinga ka na. Payag na ako.

We will carry on from here.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

IT'S ALL BEEN DONE BEFORE

After working for a good two-thirds of a fortnight, I find myself completely out of whack. My laundry has gone up to a near unmanageable pile. The ref is near empty while the pantry is full of trash masquerading as food. Almost all of our provisions are in the red. And if not for my dear husband, there will be no decently cooked food in the house. Heck, we probably won't even have milk!

I have to schedule my doctors' appointments all within a week's time cause each one of them is overdue. I am once again unable to keep up with my inbox. Bills and receipts, notices and return stubs are waiting to be filed soon as they come out of their individual envelopes. Ironing clothes has become a thing of the past. My car is a moving dustbin. And if not for online banking, I will probably be late paying each and every one of my bills each and every month.

How one can live like this, I have no idea. I can't. I can't sleep very well with all these nagging me at the back of my mind. And could I be any more deprived? Hello... I work the graveyard shift, for Pete's sake! I am inadvertently in limbo until I have all these fixed and in place so technically, I am not even getting anywhere or having anything accomplished. And you know what the funny thing is? I'm in this rut because I believe I've been working! Catch 22? You tell me.

So I think about people like me and worse, who have two or three jobs, and a family to raise. There's E who sees her family back in Alabama only for a week in summer because the rest of the year, she has to work. There's J who lost her kids to her husband, now her ex, of course, because she can't be with them anyway because she's working all the time. So she and her ex has this special arrangement where she goes to their house to cook the kids breakfast and take care of their stuff and be a mom to them on her days off but she has to be out the door by the time her ex comes back from work. And then there's M who has been studying and working, and then working 2-3 jobs right after college, who has never married and has just broken up with her boyfriend for the 3rd time because at 46, she's still not sure if he's the man for her. There's D who's 53 years old and still tries to work as much as she can, which means once every 3 nights, because her arthritic hands won't allow her to work any more than that. And then there's L, once divorced, twice married, with 2 daughters of different fathers, who hasn't spent a single weekend with her family in 5 years.

I know, I know. It's a tough life and the way things are going, I should be thankful that I have a job and of course I am. How can I not be? It's just that I also wish we could always eat the right stuff, you know. That there aren't days when we have to settle for what we can throw together in a jiffy because that is all that we can manage. Or else we can always opt for the default... eat out, which is easy but not nifty. 2 weeks ago, I had some time to cook for Papa and I will not forget the look on his face... the look of satisfaction on his face... made more outstanding in my mind because I know I haven't cooked for him in quite a while. I long for mornings past when we'd wake up but we didn't really need to get up... we had time to reacquaint each other to how each other's skin feels to the brush of our fingers, to the softness of each other's hair, to the memory of each other's scent, to the fullness we have in our arms when we had each other in them. We had time to plan the day without finding ourselves finally getting caught up on the 24th hour. We had time to get on each other's nerves... and then laugh afterwards. In a nutshell, we had time to feel something... something else... besides being exhausted.

I am trying to remember if in my recent past I have wished for this, or at least for the part of it that was obviously appealing. We never do see the bigger picture, do we? We're never smart enough for that. We always seem to miss seeing the part where it says 'difficult' and I take my hats off to that part in the human spirit that will keep refusing to see that it has indeed become 'difficult.' I keep forgetting that our smallest decisions become vast by implication. They will always encompass our whole lives.

And yet tomorrow, we are going fishing... out in the deep, in a big rented fishing boat... something I have never done before. Ah life... you ole bugger!

Thursday, July 24, 2008

NO STOP AND GAS PEDALS FOR COWBOYS

Tail ended my first car yesterday on my way home from work. Was rolling to a stop but I guess I was doing it too slowly that I didn't really stop before dozing off so I ended up not actually stopping before I hit the other car's bumper. Thankfully it was no big accident and the damage is nothing but a paint job. I didn't even get a citation because the good cop appreciated my being up front with my error.

I probably should ride a horse instead.

black

or

white?

Sunday, July 20, 2008

CAUSE I KNOW I DON'T BELONG HERE IN HEAVEN

In the NICU, we have a bonding technique we offer the mothers whenever the baby is able and the parent is willing. We draw up the privacy curtains and ask the mother to take her top off, including the bra, and place the baby all across her chest, and then we wrap them both with a sheet laid across the mother's shoulders, covering them all the way to the front. In there they can bask in each other's warmth... in a world all their own, mother and child. We call it skin to skin.

It is not all the time that we can do this. Not when the baby is in a ventilator, with breathing tubes coursing through her mouth because she was born not quite developed enough to breath on her own. Not when a tube is piercing through the baby's tummy to evacuate the fluid that has accumulated there because of some infection that left her unable to manage her fluids in utero. Not when she has a central line threaded through her umbilical vein through which she has sedative and vasopressor drips running and an arterial line through which her blood pressure is being monitored and from which blood samples are drawn every so often for lab tests. Not when at any given time, a transfusion may be going through another line, through another limb

Often, when a baby is in this state, all that a mother could do is to look at her child, if she can bear... or touch it, if she's brave enough.

We have one such baby in the unit, been there for the past 2 weeks. It's a 29-week gestation female, born with nonimmune hydrops fetalis, secondary to gestational CMV infection. The mother is a 20-year old Hispanic who can barely speak English. I must admire her for being so brave in the midst of all the bustle surrounding the care of her child, for being able to hold her own, for not letting her confusion get in the way of her child's treatment, and all of that for one so young.

The prognosis for hydrops fetalis is not very good. In fact, it often results in death of the infant shortly before or after delivery. The risk is even higher in premature babies. For our baby to have survived for two weeks is atypical. For her to have gone off the ventilator after two weeks, as sick as she was, is a miracle.

After several days of critical care, this week saw our baby with only one peripherally inserted central line in place, with all IV drips discontinued, and she has gone from the vent, to nasal CPAP, to nasal cannula for respiratory support. And although she still had ascites (fluid in the belly), it was no longer as bruised as when it first started and the worst of the fluid has been removed, and what remained was left for natural reabsorption by the body. She was getting one medicine, just one left from all those she started with. Evidently, everything was looking peaches for our baby and with every adhesive removed, with every tube and line pulled out, her parent's smile came wider, brighter, happier. Last Thursday, mother and child hugged each other, skin to skin, for the first time.

Life would have been perfect if recovery was an ever forward movement. Unfortunately, it is not. Last night, our baby went bad and she had some alarming respiratory distress going. When our shift ended this morning, her morning nurse was getting ready for intubation.

I had a chance to talk to the mom before I left. In not so many words, she told me, 'When I held my child that night, it was the first time, and that was the only time she became so real to me, the very first time I really felt I had a child. I've been looking at her for days but in my mind, I had no idea. I felt my baby, and I felt she wanted to be there, and I want her to be... in my arms. She will fight to be back. I will have her back.'

Faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

THE PARADOX OF OUR AGE

apropos to Papa Jay's blog...

THE PARADOX OF OUR AGE, EXPANDED

We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers;
wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints;
we spend more, but have less;
we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time;
we have more degrees, but less sense;
more knowledge, but less judgment;
more experts, but more problems;
more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much,
smoke too much,
spend too recklessly,
laugh too little,
drive too fast,

get too angry too quickly,
stay up too late,
get up too tired,

read too seldom,
watch TV too much,
and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom and lie too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life;
We've added years to life, not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.
We've conquered outer space, but not inner space;

We've done larger things, but not better things;
We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul;
We've split the atom, but not our prejudice;
We write more, but learn less;
We plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait;
We have higher incomes; but lower morals;
We have more food but less appeasement;
We build more computers to hold more information,
to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication;
We've become long on quantity, but short on quality.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion;
tall men, and short character;
steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare;
more leisure and less fun;
more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce;
of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips,
disposable diapers,
throwaway morality,
one-night stands,
overweight bodies,
and pills that do everything from cheer,
to quiet, to kill.

It is a time when there is much in the show window
and nothing in the stockroom

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

SALPICAO

for Mye...

Salpicao is very easy to prepare. By another name, it is called garlic beef stir fry. If I had been an adventurous cook, I would have taken it from there and closed the cook book. What else do I need to know anyway? You need garlic. You need beef. You stir fry them together and viola!

But I am not that adventurous. And gladly so because the recipe calls for all that, yes, and other things besides. I got my recipe from the Recipe Zaar but I added one secret ingredient of my own, which I will so generously divulge and made a few adjustments in the measurements as it better agreed with my palate.

So anyway, here goes...

Ingredients:

1 lb beef tenderloin (or other tender cut) cut into 1/2 inch chunks
2 tbsp olive oil or canola oil
6 cloves garlic (more if you like - oh yeah, definitely!), minced
salt to taste
fresh, ground pepper to taste
1/4 tsp paprika
3 tbsp oyster sauce
1/4 cup liquid seasoning (now I find this a bit too much. so what I'd do is either put a little less than 1/4 cup or I add a little more meat, about a quarter of a pound more, to even it out)
3 tbsp butter or margarine
1 capfull Mirin (this is the secret ingredient I added. Mirin is a Japanese cooking wine, a little on the sweet side, and we've gone into the habit of putting this in our meat dishes as we find that it tempers the saltiness of the food so that it comes out more polished.)

Directions:

1. combine oil, garlic, salt, pepper, and paprika in a bowl
2. marinate beef chunks in garlic-oil mixture for a couple of hours or more (I do mine about 4 hours at least) in the fridge
3. saute marinated beef, including marinade, in VERY hot oil
4. keep stirring until beef chunks are browned evenly
5. DO NOT lower heat
6. add oyster sauce, liquid seasoning and Mirin
7. cook a few seconds more, add butter last
8. remove from heat and serve immediately over hot, steamed rice
9. cooking time should be about 10 mins. or less to keep beef tender

Now this last step is where I have a problem. See, even if I follow everything to the dot, I don't end up with tender beef after 10 minutes. So I am left with no choice but to cook longer. However, if I cook longer in VERY hot oil, I end up with some beef crunchy and some tender. So I do the next best thing and that is lower the heat just enough so that the beef cooks tender over time. And I actually do not do steps 6 and 7 until after all the water from the beef is gone and I'm sure to have a saucy, not soupy, salpicao.

So there you go Mye... as promised. Happy cooking!

Sunday, June 29, 2008

SUNDAYS ARE MADE OF THESE

and I woke up slow, dragged into the sense of your scent, of your skin... the one I know so well
I had my ideas, you had yours, but then we found out, they were not so different, after all...

The screen door slams
Mary's dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again

we got up after a while for the plans we've made this day await, you had yours, I had mine
you were off for a run
I was off to Church
'I'll run by the supermarket to buy stuff before driving to Church so you can cook when you get back. We'll have lunch after the service.'

Spread out now Rosie, doctor come cut loose her mama's reins
You know playin' blindman's bluff is a little baby's game
You pick up Little Dynamite, I'm gonna pick up Little Gun
And together we're gonna go out tonight and make that highway run
You don't have to call me lieutenant Rosie and I don't want to be your son
The only lover I'm ever gonna need's your soft sweet little girl's tongue Rosie you're the one

at Church they said that when you find yourself in a dark, dark place, sometimes it's God having you right where He wants you and all you need to do is let it be and have a little faith...

In the Bible Cain slew Abel
and East of Eden he was cast
You're born into this life paying
for the sins of somebody else's past
Daddy worked his whole life for nothing but the pain
Now he walks these empty rooms looking for something to blame
You inherit the sins, you inherit the flames
Adam raised a Cain

and we had lunch, that was some kick-ass sinigang na salmon you whipped up, I had to painfully live with the fact that I cannot have seconds
but you could, and you did, and I watched you dig into it, smiling, thanking the time to be sitting there smiling....

Everybody's got a hungry heart
Everybody's got a hungry heart
Lay down your money and you play your part
Everybody's got a hungry heart

and we got sleepy, left the dishes where they were and squeezed into the couch
it was a tight squeeze
'Maybe we should buy a sofa-bed. You'll never know when somebody might need to crash in for the night... you know.'
'Yeah... let's do that.'

Sometimes it might seem like it was planned
For you to roam empty hearted through this land
Though the world turns you hard and cold
There's one thing mister, that I know
That's if you think your heart is stone
And that you're rough enough to whip this world alone
Alone buddy there ain't no peace of mind

'Where are you going?
'There's chores to be done. Rise and shine.

Well, there she sits buddy justa gleaming in the sun
There to greet a working man when his day is done
I'm gonna pack my pa and I'm gonna pack my aunt
I'm gonna take them down to the Cadillac Ranch

'I want to eat something nice. Remember last night, we had coffee and shared left-over cake in the middle of the night? I want to do that again. I want to eat nice again.'
'Ok come on, let's find something nice.'
and we got back and we had cheese cake and edamame, grabbed a bag of calamari rings for something you're already cooking in your mind
and we had the sinigang again for dinner, the way we liked it... in a big bowl, with everything scooped up over rice, nice and easy and casual
and on TV was some NASA show...

I believe in the love that you gave me
I believe in the faith that could save me
I believe in the hope
and I pray that some day
It may raise me above these
For the ones who had a notion
a notion deep inside
That it ain't no sin
to be glad you're alive
I wanna find one face
that ain't looking through me
I wanna find one place

and you said you were going for another run
and I was busy writing all these down

Everybody's got a secret Sonny
Something that they just can't face
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take
Till some day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down
Where no one asks any questions
Or looks too long in your face
In the darkness on the edge of town

and we had coffee when you got back
and the cheesecake too

So don't bother me man i ain't got no time
I'm on my way to see that girl of mine
`cause nothing matters in this whole wide world
When you're in love with a jersey girl

and we'll sleep again, dream again
be safe again...

Sandy the aurora is risin' behind us
The pier lights our carnival life forever
Love me tonight for I may never see you again
Hey Sandy girl

MY LOVE, SLEEP TIGHT MY LOVE, AND SOFTLY FADE AWAY

I think that the most important part of making love is that, from time to time, it makes you fall in love again.

And there are some lucky ones to whom that happens with the same person for 17 years.

Damn lucky ones.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

IN THE AFTERMATH

for you, my dearest friends, for you...

THE SUMMER WE FELL

could I have said things in a different way
maybe shorter
maybe clearer

could I have juggled my mind to make space
for more reason
for more caution

could I have tapped my heart that it might see
eyes smarting through sneering lips
arms wanting through tightened fists

could I have held my peace in a heartbeat
surrendered my right to speak
consoled myself with a quiet tear

change falls like snow on arid land demanding
a season of its own
perhaps we were all just pawns to the bigger picture

be it that I have served my purpose
be it that I have served it well

Saturday, June 21, 2008

OVER A BOWL OF CEREALS ON A SATURDAY MORNING

HIM: Bloomfield, great guy.

HER: Who's he?

HIM: Mayor of New York.

HER: I thought it was Guiliani.

HIM: Before. Now it's Bloomfield.

HER: I thought Guiliani was a great mayor too.

HIM: He was but he was not loved by the people. Like Lee Kwan Yew. He did great things for Singapore but the people did not love him.

HER: So what's so great about Bloomfield?

HIM: He made New York better.

HER: I thought Guiliani did that already.

HIM: Much better. And the people like him. You know, his office is just a cubicle, like everyone else. Just the way his office is where he holds business.

HER: Why?

HIM: That's the kind of guy he is.

HER: And that's why he is mayor of New York and Donald Trump is a reality show host?

HIM: Eat your cereals.

ERRATUM:

And as my good friend cbs pointed out, Bloomfield is Bloomberg, after all. Thanks bud. :)

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

PARADISE BY THE 'C'

In the backdrop is so much confusion and aggression and arrogance, the tower of Babel toppling down once again, I find myself reduced to stillness listening to his music. I didn't even itch to click my mouse (at least not until I thought of writing this) and I found myself not really caring to know what was next said.

I found my peace.

I hope you find yours.

And once again, my dearest proves the sweetest. Thank you.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

DEAREST DADDY

HAPPY, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!!

I would have loved to be with you today, as in many other occasions, as in many other days. Unfortunately, the state of our lives call for me to be here, away from you, and the rest of the family. Ironic that I have to be in order that I might keep you.

I spoke to you today and you sounded happy and strong. That makes me happy. Every time I hear you that way, I find the resolve to keep at it and I am able to tell myself that I can do it, whatever it takes. It keeps me going just to know I have one more day to let you know how much I love you.

All your life you've put us first in everything and no matter how many times we've disappointed you, or hurt you, you never stopped loving us. Maybe that's just something that fathers do, but every time I think of all you've done for us, it makes me want to do more for you. I can never thank you enough Daddy because even at times when I know you didn't have to anymore, you still did... even at times when you can't anymore, you still tried. If I am strong today, it is because you showed me how to be.

This is for you Daddy. I hope you have a good day.

I love you so much.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

A LONG WAY FROM THE KUMEYAAY

Last weekend, we went over to San Diego for the 11th Annual Rock n' Roll Marathon, which incidentally is Papa Jay's first ever full-length marathon. 26.2 miles, man! I was only there as supporting cast but the experience was for me every bit as exhilarating and in the end, I am again every bit as proud.

The following day, we went on a sight-seeing tour of Old Town San Diego. I did an extensive pictography of the trip on my Flickr site so for your viewing pleasure, may I direct you to it instead. This is special for me for 2 reasons. First, it is my first pictography (as you will see, I did some extensive research to give you a sense of the history we relished in). And second, this is my first time to try my hand at photoshopping. Those who know me would know that I have the propensity to steer clear of all things technical. Somehow, with this batch of pictures, I found my inspiration to learn.

I tried them in at least 3 pictures of Papa Jay's, in the court house, in a couple of rooms in Seeley's stables and in all the rooms of the Casa de Estudillo. They were all either dark or vague, with all sorts of shadows making my eyes cross so bad I just had to fix them and attempt to make the imperfections blend in since I can't get rid of them altogether. I also did a black and white copy of my own photo.

Hope you have time to enjoy the pictures! Just one thing... do be kind.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

PROUST ROUND

What is your favorite journey?

The journey of my evolving self. I know I used to be a dreamer. I looked at life with incredible forbearance… in my mind, people in my life could not possibly do wrong and I am almost always struck numb whenever they end up hurting or disappointing me. Every unfavorable twist of fate happened for a reason and that reason would almost always tell me it was right to suffer. Although, of course, there is nothing wrong with that, it had the collateral effect, however, of making my take on life rather on the grim side. I’d like to think of myself now as a pragmatist. It’s easier on the people around me if only because it has allowed me to accept them and the things they do on a less than perfect state. It is easier on myself, if only because it allows me to be more appreciative, more forgiving. It is easier on life if only because I’m learning to understand it on its own terms.

Written above is an excerpt from my entry at our blogkadahan website where we are answering the Proust Questionnaire for our current round. We haven't updated the site for quite sometime and our good friend, Doc Emer, offered to moderate this round to jump start things again. It was a fun and reflective exercise. I'm thinking, maybe I will do this again in 3 or 5 years and see how I've changed.

So anyway, you can read the rest of the entry here. And when you do, let me know what you think or how you feel about my answers. Or maybe you can answer the questionnaire yourselves.

Monday, May 26, 2008

SO LONG, HOWLIN' DAVE

There is only one thing I know, that he loved his little brother to bits. Having lost their father too soon, Dante is the nearest thing to a father my husband ever had, the one who was proudest for all the 15 minutes he had in his adult life, the one who was most excited for every homecoming, the one who most longed to share with him a beer in one hand and a shoulder in the other, as they talked about life, as they talked about rock and roll.

When we heard about his passing, I know it was a grateful thought that Papa had the chance to talk to him one last time when he went on an impromptu homecoming in April. I asked him what Dante last said to him. He said, 'Thank you.'

So long BIL. Thanks for all the rockin' and the rollin.'

Saturday, May 24, 2008

MULTIPLY LIFE BY THE POWER OF TWO

... because I like taking long drives with you, the ones where you drive and I sleep

... because you're the kind of man who would say goodbye to an underwear by wearing it over your head, take a picture, and proudly show it around

... because it feels good when you turn and spoon me in early morning slumber

... because you and I, we've seen each other through a lot of good, a lot of bad, and a lot of mornings after

... because when you couldn't buy me a rose, you planted me a flower garden

... because gentle tenderness has become a steadfast rule

... because you take lots of pictures and play lots of songs

... because you read, you sing and you run

... because you take a peek in the shower... and then I scream... and then I blush

... because you can take the heat in the kitchen

... because you care to do things for my pleasure

... because you care to do things at all

... because you're man enough to decide whenever I don't want to or refuse to

... because when you couldn't buy me a wedding ring you bought me a home... or two

... because you smile to make me smile

... because you never leave me to wake up and unknowingly find myself alone

... because when you said let's do this, you took my hand in yours and never let us look back

I'm stopping here not because it's only been 17 years... I'm saving the rest for forever. You and I kid, we're in this together and there's no two ways about it. Not for me.

Happy anniversary.

I love you.

Monday, May 19, 2008

WHEN CALLED TO TASK

Everybody knew so much more than I did when I first started. She was one of them. She taught me some things, half-heartedly and only because she had to, making me feel that she has written me off, even as she did, like I wasn't capable of learning the tricks of the trade. Every now and then she would come up to me at the most unexpected places, with no preamble, and ask about a recent booboo. She would try to sound encouraging, I'd give her that, but somehow she always managed to sound hollow.

Down the line, I started catching her at jobs not done well, or at least, at par, whenever I took on a patient she had in the morning. Once... twice... thrice. The third was at something so routine that it was almost a negligence to do a bad job at it. I felt her discomfiture, literally, as I probed. I knew she was getting mortified, not at the inquest itself, but by the fact that it was me on the other side of the fence, this time.

So she went a step higher. Now she turned menacing. She hasn't been at the job for 15 years after all without gathering up some clout.

At this point, I felt sorry for her. In general, she will always be looked up to. But she knows and I know that I caught her at it. Perhaps there are others like me who know better now, but I am almost sure it will remain our own individual 'little private things.' We can be a very discrete lot too, you know, when we're behaving at our best.

I gather that it would serve me well to remember that we should always be careful lest our words empty out at what our hands do not do.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

DEAR MOMMY...

thank you for bringing me into life
thank you for preparing me for it
thank you for bearing the pain of parting
thank you for never really letting go

This is for you, Mom...

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS
ABBA

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(Slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers...

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile...

I love you.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

STRETCHING OUR YOUTH AS WE MUST, UNTIL WE ARE ASHES TO DUST... UNTIL TIME MAKES HISTORY OF US

I've had my share of learning, maybe not of the Romeo and Juliet kind but yeah, I've shed my tears. I am not sure I'd care very much to put it all in words, not that anyone would really be interested to know if I did. This is what I know now though, only love lasts as a motive for any good we want to do. Love enables us to die for others, love spends itself for another.

I cannot think of love with a shadow of the fear, the expectation, or even the slightest notion of getting hurt behind me. Much as I will admit to the highest probability in it, I will not let hurt set its foot at the door of love at the same time that I do. I have decided, years before, that when I love, I will love, period. I will embrace it like there is no time to wait and all I have left is now. There will be no conditions, there will be no restrictions. I only have myself to offer anyway, I've got nothing more. If I lose that, then God have mercy on the one who loses it for me. As for me, I have survived this way for the past 2 and a half decades, not necessarily unscathed but still with my head on my shoulders and my heart in my hands. I still manage to wake up in the mornings with the hint of a smile, as if that in itself is the best thing that could happen to me today.

Call it naivete, and let it be my greatest fault.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

ON TRUST, JMOM'S TAG, AND THEN SOME

All our bags are packed and we're ready to go and no, I'm not just singing about how it's rainin' and pourin' and an old man who's snorin'. Yesterday, we were on our way for a week in La Costa, in the outskirts of San Diego, for business and pleasure... well, it's Papa for the business and me for the pleasure... and I am actually writing this in my hotel room while Papa is in a pre-conference meeting and I'm feeling like a vagabond book-author who relies on the charity of friends and benefactors to survive while writing, if I may borrow what Kat dubbed as, the Great American Novel. I could actually be out shopping at Carlsbad right now but Vivien, my friend from Shanghai, is not due to arrive until tomorrow and I thought it would be nice if we just did it together on Wednesday. So here I am with nothing to do (at least nothing that I want to do just yet) and I know housekeeping will be by in no time to shoo me out so she can clean the room and what better way to spend that interval than to blog. I mean, this is really, really perfect! The sun is out (where it can't reach me... heh), I have my cup of coffee (free, as much as I want, filter failure and all... pwe!) and nothing but my mp3 music to remind me of, well, I don't know what exactly. But yeah, you get the picture.

10 minutes on the road and I turn to Papa and ask, 'Did you double lock the front door?' And he nodded yes. So I turned my attention again to what was hurling past my window and then I just felt I had to ask, 'You're sure all the lights were turned off.' Again he nodded in affirmation. So I settled down on my seat, nice and comfy as you please and for just one more time felt like asking, 'Did you lock the back door?' And yet again, the patient nod.

I think I am lucky like that, to have someone who can save me from self-inflicted and paranoia-driven inconveniences, to have someone I can ask once and whatever he says in response is something I know I can rely on. If it was left up to me, I would have turned back to check, and then maybe do it again for good measure, and then perhaps do it just one more time cause you could never really be too sure with these things. It drives me crazy whenever I do that, every single time and I am just so grateful that there is somebody in my life that I can trust.

Hmm... trust. Do you believe that it is so much easier to believe a man who says that no, he's not cheating on you than one who says that yes, he double locked the front door? No kidding. You see, when it comes to matters of disloyalty, women, I find, at least at the outset, would gravitate towards smoothing things out by believing their men's denial of it. The burden of proof, once denied, falls on the woman after all, and if she's one bit of smart, she will know that she doesn't need that crap. Whereas, proving whether the front door has been double locked or not has absolutely nothing to it. I mean, what does it take? Just go check it out. It's so easy to nitpick on things like that, it becomes almost a pleasure in itself.

But anyway, I am sorry if I have muddled your confusion even more... heh. I guess I am just grateful that I have never been given reason to test the validity of the aforementioned theory... double heh.

Two weeks ago, JMom tagged me in the Name That Blog Meme. It asks why the name of my blog. Well, I wanted to work around something that had to do with coffee for the simple reason that I love it. So too, I love what it represents for me... having the time to chew over things about my life, taking stock of what I am continually grateful for and a handful that I can say I am proud of, being conscious about a few select moments where I can breathe in and breathe out way above all that is harried and hurried in my typical day. A Cup of Coffee is so commonplace and just didn't say all of it for me.

So why 'dejabrew?' It's a spin-off from the legitimate word, 'deja vu' obviously and I feel it says all about what I want to express in my blog, with the added notion that anyone who comes and reads might just about find one and something in it that they can recognize in their own lives and feel a connection.

I am not one for deep reflections. I don't have the charisma to make people laugh. I don't have the propensity for great arguments. But here I can make space for the reader. My life, after all, is not much different from anyone else's.

There JMom, mission accomplished. I'm sorry that it took so long but I hope I made you happy. So now I pass the torch to:

Dr. Emer for his Parallel Universes
Mari for her Quintissentially I
Owen for his Samu't Sari and Sundry
Junnie for his Memento
Tito Rolly for his Soft Grumbles

On the afternoon of April 17, the E Street Band's organist and keyboard player of 40 years, Danny Federici lost his battle to melanoma. Bruce Springsteen delivered a very moving eulogy for his 'blood brother' on his funeral and you can read it on Bruce Springsteen's site. At the end of the eulogy, there are 2 video clips, one is a tribute to Danny and the other is a segment of their show in Indianapolis on March 20 with a song called. 'Sandy.'

In the eulogy, Bruce relates how, on the night of what would be Danny's last performance, he asked what Danny would like to play and the man said, 'Sandy.' Right off the bat.

How does one do that? Out of all the songs he has heard in his lifetime, out of all the music he has tapped on the keys, how can he choose one so readily, so decisively, without having to rummage around and get stuck trying to make the choice? How does one pick that one song he would play for the last time? Do things really become so much easier, so much simpler, when we're running out of time? Or does embracing the things in our life with such extreme passion enable us to pick, at any given moment, perhaps at the most important moment, the one that stands out from the rest as readily as we do our one true love? How? I certainly don't know.

What I do know is, I do not want to spend the rest of my life picking my song and find myself with no time left to listen to it.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

IN TRANSIT

I was trying my best yesterday to sleep before going on board for another night at work. From out of the blue, I woke up to an awareness of words forming in my mind of their own accord. I realized then that I was writing a poem in my subconscious. So I succumbed, hoisted myself out of bed and gave up sleep to give way to the words.

ALONG A QUIET RIVER

in my playground I am all by myself
I dance my dance and move my moves
think my thoughts and be my being
nobody knows, nobody sees
save for the one who knows I am here
save for the one who sees from afar
save for the one who will not touch
he lets me be for he sees me
he lets me be
what I will be
or will to be
here in my playground I am all alone
unshackled to who I am
or what I am
or have to be
I am not pinned down by margins
or borders
or zones
there is but one essence of being
it has no form
so you think you see me
but then... how?
for I have not let you

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

BACK WHERE YOU BELONG

Welcome back, Papa!

the loot

hueeeee! singhot, singhot... hikbi!
Mylab, bakit, ano nangyari?
Kasi andami nilang pasalubong saken e. *hikbi!* *singhot*
O e bakit ka umiiyak?
E na-touch ako e, bakit ba???
hueeeee! singhot, singhot... hikbi!

Thursday, April 17, 2008

I WANT YOU SO BAD

3 days! Just 3 more days and I won't have to go around feeling like a turkey without a thanksgiving anymore. Not! Anymore! Woohoo!

From Paul Simon's Bernadette:

though my words may be jumbled
still I'm telling you just how it feels
I love you...
and the dream that wraps around you

Please God, keep him safe.

Monday, April 14, 2008

THE SIMPLE THINGS JUST ARE

Now that you are there and I am here...

I'm having instant coffee instead because you're not here to brew me a pot and brewing coffee for one just doesn't cut it... besides, finding a pot of freshly brewed coffee makes me feel almost like a queen whenever I don't have to brew it myself...

it feels like I'm in limbo and so the time I sleep and the time I wake up are often up for grabs, and my daily routine has gone out of whack...

once or twice, I've thought about opening a bottle of red, or a bottle of white, all the time battling with myself between prudence and flippancy, all the time letting prudence win so no worries there...

all the leftovers in the fridge are gone...

a letter-envelope's corner is sticking out of the mailbox...

the kitchen trash bin is taking too long to fill up...

the lady in Carl's Jr. is not impressed that I am now taking out taco salad just for one...

AT&T is getting impressed with our phone bill...

our neighbor has been happy cause I haven't had to do the laundry and she's been spared the drone from our ancient dryer for 5 days and counting...

I've been thinking of you every second.

Oh, pardon me. I forgot.

That one hasn't changed.

Friday, April 11, 2008

NO EASY WAY ABOUT THIS

I don't know what I was thinking when I urged you to go but as certain as I was then that it was the right thing to do, I am still. That doesn't mean I am not seeing you off with a heavy heart. There will be lonely nights and I will deal with them. There will be uneasy mornings when my eyes would flutter with creeping restiveness and I would have to realize again that I am alone. That this is ephemeral does not make it trivial. In our world, there is you and I, together.

I am of you and you are of me. That is how it is. That is what I know.

Keep safe and take my love along with you.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

TRAMPS LIKE US

I don't even have words to describe how I feel. Would it suffice to say that at one point during the show, my eyes smarted with tears I held back, so taken with emotion over the fact that I was there? No matter what adjective I give... whether it be awesome, quintessential, phenomenal and no matter if I say that he took live performance high up to an exponential level... it wouldn't do justice to what transpired at the Honda Center last night.

How could I describe the pandemonium as he came out in total darkness, ran through his signature, 'Ah-one! Two! Ah-one, two, three, bam!,' as he began Light of Day for his opening...

Or make you feel the total surrender as we rocked through Radio Nowhere, Murder Incorporated, Reason to Believe, Working on the Highway and The Rising...

Or how we all swayed or did our own little shindig to Lonesome Day, Magic, Last to Die, Gypsy Biker and Long Walk Home...

Or illustrate the silence as we listened to The Ghost of Tom Joad, which he did with the equally incredible,Tom Morello, the Nightwatchman himself, of Rage Against the Machine, with nothing less than utmost reverence...

Or the sensation as the audience became one clapping in rhythm to Livin' in the Future or singing wo-ho-ho-ho-hoh to Badlands?

How can I give you a taste of the air, dark and thick with anticipation, each person in the audience stunted with bated breath, as we tried to beckon him back to the stage with the light from our mobile phones?

And how do I express our glee when he did come back and sang the misleadingly playful Girls in Summer Clothes, the classic Rosalita, Born to Run which predictably brought the house down, Out in the Street which is a rarity, and finally, American Land to which I did the Irish jig almost by instinct?

I have decided that in my next life, I will become a Springsteen groupie.

And my signature shirt will say, 'JUST ANOTHER BRUCE TRAMP!'

I will wear it everyday for as long as I live.

Friday, April 04, 2008

BETWEEN THE LINES

There's a pleasantness in the warmth of the sheet covering my body, a sense of safety in its sheer weight over my shoulder and back that makes me want to lie still and forget the time.

I think this is what work provides - the opportunity to enjoy this in the aftermath.

May your weekend allow you such simple pleasures.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

ON BOOKS AND MUSIC

Dr. Clairebear did not actually tag me. I just happened to be visiting her blog one night and saw her 123 Book Tag and I thought it would be fun to do so I volunteered. She took me up on it so here goes...

At the moment that I'm writing this, I have 4 books within reach. And because the tag requires a book with at least 123 pages, and all 4 books meet the requirement, I will do it for all for of them, what the heck.

So what should we do? Here's what:

1. Pick up the nearest book of at least 123 pages.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

The first book is 'Anansi Boys' by Neil Gaiman. I pick this up everytime I feel saturated with didactic reading and feel the need to take a break with a nice little story.

He went down to the end of the corridor. The boom-chagga-boom of a bass and drums penetrated the door. Fat Charlie rattled the door handle.

The second book happens to be nearby because I quoted something from it for a previous post and haven't had the chance to return it to the shelf. It's Alan Alda's 'Never Have Your Dog Stuffed.'

Arlene was terrified that I might actually try to install a toilet by myself, especially because I had that manic look when I talked about how much fun it would be to learn pipe fitting. Gently, and with much talk about how clever I was, she slowly brought me to my senses.

I kept acting and trying to sell my writing, but my real life was happening in this small New Jersey town with crooked sidewalks and pompous mayors.

Notice how different the 3 sentences of Alda are from those of Gaiman? Alda's are much, much longer. I guess he's got more to say cause it's his life he's talking about and Gaiman... well, he was just making up his own... heh.

The third book is something I have to labor over in line with this online course I'm currently taking.

In Cruzan v. Director, Missouri Department of Health, the U.S. Supreme Court approved the Missouri Supreme Court's test regarding the withdrawal of life-sustaining treatment from a patient in a persistent vegetative state. In this case, the family of Nancy Cruzan, a 30-year old victim of an automobile accident, petitioned the court to allow Ms. Cruzan's health care providers to remove the feeding tube providing her with nutrition. The case progressed to the Missouri Supreme Court, and the other court denied the family's plea, holding that the family had failed to present clear and convincing evidence that Ms. Cruzan would have wanted the feeding tube withdrawn.

Hmm... sounds familiar, don't you think? The names, I'm sure, are very different. though.

And for the last book, it's a Spanish tutorial that Papa bought me a year ago. Unfortunately, I haven't gone as far as page 123 yet. For that matter, I haven't gone as far as page 12. I know I should learn it cause it doesn't really pay to be gringo here where I am. It's just that foreign language comes so hard for me.

stand up - levantese (leh-'bahn-teh-seh)
Now combine your command words with some body parts.
Bend your arm. - Doble el brazo. (doh-bleh ehl 'brah-soh)

Amazingly, they don't run out of breath when they speak. That's a whole lot of h's right there.

There, I'm done with the book part. Now I'm going to have to apologize to Dr. Clairebear because I'm going to have to twist the tag at this point. Well, I guess I don't really have to but I want to. Actually, I'm not only going to twist it, I'm coming up with a whole new tag myself. Dr. Clairebear, I hope you don't mind.

Music is one of my passions too. I can't sing as well as Papa Jay does and I haven't really learned to play any instrument. I would have learned the piano if my lessons then weren't so painfully boring. But that doesn't mean I don't have a good ear for it. So yes, I'm going to turn this tag around and switch into music.

Here's what we do.

1. Choose 19 of the songs you like best, regardless of artist or genre.
2. Put them all together in a CD.
3. Make 5 other copies.
4. Post your playlist on your blog.
5. Choose 5 people and send them a copy of your CD each. Send the first copy you made to the one who tagged you.

Isn't this exciting???

Ok, so here's my playlist.

1. Over the Rainbow by Bill Frisell, from the soundtrack of the movie 'Finding Forrester'

2. I Want to Spend the Night, from Bill Withers' Greatest Hits album

3. Give Me the Beat Boys, also by Bill Withers

4. A Matter of Trust, from Billy Joel's Greatest Hits vol. 3

5. In the Middle of the Night, also by Billy Joel

6. Dreaming, from Blondie's Greatest Hits album

7. Everybody Needs Somebody to Love, by the Blues Brothers

8. I Want You, by Bob Dylan from the album May Your Songs Always Be Sung Again: The Songs of Bob Dylan, vol. 2, performed by Gary Burton

9. Where Teardrops Fall, by Bob Dylan from the album, 'Oh Mercy'

10. Make You Feel My Love, by Bob Dylan from the album, 'Time Out of Mind'

11. Spirit on the Water, by Bob Dylan from the album, 'Modern Times'

12. Wait for Me, by Bob Seger from the album, 'Face the Promise'

13. Turn the Page, from Bob Seger's Greatest Hits album

14. Living Inside My Heart, by Bob Seger from the soundtrack of the movie 'About Last Night'

15. Don't Lead Me On, by Bobby Caldwell

16. Good Times, by Bobbi Humphrey

17. Harry Hippie, from Bobbi Womack's Greatest Hits album

18. Edge of a Broken Heart, by Bon Jovi

19. Nobody's Girl, by Bonnie Raitt from the album, 'Nick of Time'

Ok, so who are my 5? Of course, I'm going to start off with my favorite blogger, Papa Jay. I also choose a long-time blogger friend whom I have come to respect a lot, cbs. A blogger turned super-dear true-to-life friend, Ate Sienna. A blogger whose wisdom and cool I have admired since day 1, JMom. And finally, a blogger whom I think is the original rocker mom, ergo I'm dying to find out what she's going to come up with, Kat of Kat Scribbles.

Oh,