Study

Our apartment has three bedrooms. My favorite is what we call our study. A has more books than I do--my older books are in my parents' house in Antipolo. Now if we can only have some airconditioning here, it will be perfect!

lib
Originally uploaded by mayday_mayday.

Feeling fat day

Today I did what I always do whenever I feel fat.
I got a haircut.

I like my new haircut. It has swingy, face-framing layers. Let's just see how it looks like without blowdrying, though. Of course, a haircut always looks nice when it's fresh from the parlor.

Drawing class

Drawing class
Originally uploaded by mayday_mayday.

My first workshop ever. Here are my students' works.

Bumming around.

It's so anticlimactic.

For the first time ever since I can remember lately, I'm all alone in the house with absolutely nothing to do. The last time it happened I was still single, back in my studio at Beatriz. And I'm not enjoying it as I thought I would.

Something's wrong.

A has a lunch meeting so I don't even have to cook lunch. Not even for myself. (I realized how fat I've become lately seeing myself in the Candlelight ceremony pics.) Will not eat if I'm not hungry. Will try to go back to the gym, or at least, to walking.

So I think I'll just take a nap.

But how could I? It's too hot. And my mind's rummaging through its usual dizzying inventory of things I have to do, foremost of which is the series of paintings I'll have to do for my completion of FA 236. Roy tells me they'll only start working on it today. It's my fault, because when I ordered the supports I did tell him I might only be able to get around to doing it by May--after the Candlelight, after the workshops.

Then I remember I have to pay my accountant. And attend to the renewal of my business permit. And the umpteenth request for my correct BPI Credit Card.
And the conversion of the dvd copy of my portfolio into mpeg.

How can one bum around, with these?

Twilight in Coron Bay

Sunrise
Originally uploaded by mayday_mayday.

Bed heads

bedscene
Originally uploaded by mayday_mayday.

Taken last 24 December, 2004: Our very first night in our new apartment--a whole week before our bed came!

Finally got my card reader to work with my new pc. I will never get used, it seems, to working with Windows. Found this in my SmartCard, the very precious files of which date back from the honeymoon.

Sunrise, sunset.

They grow up so fast.

Was just having this weird lucid experience looking at my class record the other day while I was computing grades, and was incredulous how I'd filled its pages so quickly. Three years--six sems--40 units. And I never thought I would even survive my first sem.

Now I'd have to buy another record book. The cover of the one I have now is frayed at the edges. And I suppose, in a sense, I want to preserve this record of the students of my very first three years of teaching. Maybe I'm thinking it's going to help me remember the names later better?

I remember it so clearly, the first time I met my very first VC 20z class. I had another class, VC 120x which I had met the previous Monday, but they were fewer, and relatively seemed like a mature, well-behaved bunch.

But VC 20z was huge. They didn't even seem to be talking to each other. Looked like they came from different blocks from their freshman year. The VC 20 z students clearly established stakes in areas of the room. This was what made it easy for me to remember everybody's names. By third meeting, I think I'd matched everybody's faces to their nicknames. (It's tough, especially as a lot of their nicknames have no basis in their given names.)

First I noticed was this clique made of some boys and a girl whom I guessed came from Makiling. I don't know, but it somehow struck me that they had this very self-assured air around them and laid-back fashion sense which reminded me of the Makiling grads in our batch. Turns out later I will be partly right. There was a Makiling grad in the group.

Then there was this all-boy group who occupied the corner to the back and left of the room, near the windows. All I could remember about them was they had this groupmate who always made them crack up. They laughed at anything.

The front row seats were occupied by this group of pretty girls whom I was guessing came from private schools because they were always speaking kaka English. There were three of them who were always late--but still took the front seats anyway.

To the back and right side of the classroom, there was this mysterious couple. Sometimes the girl would not even be there but just her bag. And I noticed that after I checked the attendance the girl would just disappear and then reappear, most usually when I'm checking their studies for the plates. But always the big serious guy would be there, the one who I guessed was the boyfriend of the bag.

And then, lastly, there were two rather extroverted guys whom I cannot associate with any group till much later. They would always react to whatever I said and make a joke out of it. Sometimes it would be funny, but sometimes, because of my supreme lack of self-assurance, it made me paranoid that somehow they were making fun of me.

Entrapment

It was a long, long night after a long, long day.

The only thing that saved it was Booj's party.

Earlier last night I got apprehended by a cop for entering a one-way street, or, more accurately, my citation was "disobedience to traffic signs". In perhaps what was an attempt to get me to just pay up, the apprehending officer was throwing not-so-subtle hints left and right, like "Ay, Miss, abala ito. Sa City Hall nyo na ike-claim ito" and "Babaan ko na lang, isang violation na lang imbes na dalawa..." and "Baka nagmamadali kayo..."



Coming from Makati Avenue from Ayala there is a little triangular block where I thought logically there would be a way to Jupiter because a left turn was disallowed (I was headed for Reposo). So I followed the cars just in front of me, which obviously also intended to go to Jupiter. I was wondering why the queue stopped moving, and then I saw this Bel-Air policeman walking toward me.

How was I to know there was a traffic sign there? Apparently it is a trap. The cop pointed out the sign, and I saw how very it was so easy for me to have missed it. Even if I did see the sign, where it was located it would have been very difficult for me to do something about it because it was a very short street, and other than swerving to the left (which is another ticketable offense, if not a dangerous maneuver) I was already committed to the route. At the time I was apprehended (7:00 PM) there were three other vehicles. Heaven knows how many motorists they apprehend in that spot per hour per day. You could just imagine how these MAPSA boys make a killing of that neat little trap--whether you pay up or opt to take the ticket.

It's their delicious little secret.

You begin to wonder what traffic signs are for. Are they for the guidance and protection of the motorists, or a revenue source for the government? It would have been so easy and very logical to put a sign--on the right side since we are a left-hand drive country--anticipating the traffic, for instance, at the the corner of Makati Avenue and that little street, "No exit to Jupiter Street". But instead it's on the left, where you as a driver will not instinctively look.

It is all suspect. There is a very malicious intent to trap motorists.

The cop made me sign the citation, and so I asked what will happen if I contested the citation. He said, "Pwede ho, pero dadagdagan ko yung citation. Isa lang ho yan kanina, pero dahil iko-contest nyo, idadagdag ko pa yung isa."

"Tinatakot po ba niyo ako? Hindi ba karapatan ng motorista i-contest yung citation, lalo na kung malabo yung lugar na kinalalagyan ng sign? Responsibilidad niyo ang bigyan niyo ng malinaw na direksyon ang motorista."

"E di i-contest niyo. Karapatan niyo e. Pero idadagdag ko yung 'entering a one-way street'. Binibigyan ko na kayo diyan kanina ng konsiderasyon."

"Ano ito, tawaran sa palengke? E kung hindi nakita yung sign ay talagang may consequent violation na yun. Bakit idadagdag mo pa yun? Tignan niyo nga at apat kaming nahuli niyo. Talagang mali yung kinalalagyan ng sign."

"E nakita niyo naman binigyan din namin ng ticket?" At that point, the cop sounded peeved. He was probably wondering why did I get stuck with this woman who won't shut up and just pay up?

"Hindi. Patunay lang na talagang may problema talaga ang sign niyo."

Now I consider myself a very careful motorist, who stops at red lights, who carefully keeps off the yellow lanes and a very upright public university professor (of above-average intelligence, I'd like to think) who honestly files her ITRs and pays her taxes honestly and dutifully--including her community tax certificates--out of her meager wages. Why would I want to deliberately disobey traffic signs if I'd seen it in the first place? Why would I deliberately want to be careless and stupid and sacrifice a huge chunk from my salary? Obviously there is a problem. And in all likelihood, it has a great deal to do with graft and corruption.

"I hate the world today."--Meredith Brooks

Transitions

I have a full sked tonight. Why is everything happening tonight?

At 6 pm, my friend Ambie is launching her new career as a curator at Alliance Francais with "INtroSPECTION", with big names as Napoleon Abueva, Pandy Aviado, Adi Baens-Santos, and others. I'm so proud of her, for adding yet another feather to her cap. As if being a multi award-winning visual artist isn't enough.

Last Sunday, Chingbee texted me for the umpteenth time reminding me of the surprise birthday party she's throwing for Booj, also scheduled for tonight. Had just replied and assured Chingbee again I'll go but will be late because of Ambie's exhibit when Agnes and Doody texted me, one after the other, to say that Raymund V had passed away that morning and was going to be cremated that night.

It turns out that they've organized a tribute for Raymund tonight at the UP Chapel and I had to text Chingbee again to tell her I will really be late at Booj's party because of this unexpected development.

So shocking and sad, Raymund was only in his early forties. And he used to be such a livewire.

One debut, one party and one passing.

Little Bird

Last night I went to the closing of the UPCFA Vis Com/Industrial Design Batch 2005 thesis exhibit. I was requested to represent the faculty and give the closing remarks and did not go home till late. That's why I failed to write anything in my blog yesterday. And what happened the other night is just so bloggable.

Just as I have crass neighbors, I also do have charming ones--very little ones--whose teeny voices, if you stayed inside the house and just listened to them playing outside, you would think came straight out of Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon. The kids speak English very well, and three of them study at The Learning Tree--which, I learned from Mitzi my co-teacher, is a great school for kids. (Must take note for future reference.)

Coming home from school one late afternoon, in the unpaved parking lot, the kids told me about this little bird that Erika found that had apparently dropped from the roof and landed near her slipper. It was unclear though if she was wearing them. They were all talking excitedly at once, and so I just caught bits of everybody's narration. Geno said there had been a broken egg, inside which was the little bird, and so when the excitement died down, I asked Erika--the eldest in the group, "Are you sure it wasn't balut?"

"Well," Erika always very poised, took time to speak because she's so lady-like, "It did looked like balut...But it wasn't balut. It fell from the rooftop and landed near my slipper."

"Tita May, Tita May," Marisse, the brassier one (she's president of her second-grade class, I heard) tried to get me to listen to her with such urgency, "We're going to have a funeral and we'd like you to join us." It was then I noticed that the kids were gathering stones and bougainvilla flowers and were indeed setting up for an elaborate funeral.

I wracked my brains for an excuse. They liked their Tito A, so I said, "But I'd have to fix dinner for Tito A or he'll be very hungry when he gets home."

"But it's just going to be for five minutes," Marisse said, the inflection in her voice was very American--very Rugrats.

"Yeah," Erika nodded and smiled very lady-likely. "Just five minutes." These kids really know how to persuade--I couldn't think of any more excuse that was going to sound very reasonable.

"Okay, then. Just call me when you're ready."

"Okay," chorused the kids.

So I waited and waited while I cooked rice, then washed the shrimps and cooked sinigang, then took the leftover porkchop from out of the fridge to thaw, then watched TV a bit, then took out the macaroni and chicken salad from out of the fridge. I thought that the kids had all forgotten about the funeral because they were happily playing in the driveway, then they were suddenly quiet. It was alredy 6 o'clock and I supposed it was because they had already been called in their repective houses for dinner. I was so relieved and so I relaxed and watched a bit more TV. Then, the teeny knock. It was getting dark, and so I could just see a couple of eyes peering just above the wooden panel on the screen door.

"Tita May, it's Marisse. I have an invitation for you."

And, true enought, the kids had made a hand-made invitation with an outline of the program.

The funeral rites finally pushed through at 7 pm and promptly ended 5 minutes later. They were all there: Erika, Geno, Geran, and Marisse. The only two adults in attendance were Gen (Erika, Geno and Geran's mom) and myself.

To my surprise the next morning, the little grave was in shambles.

Over breakfast, I told A about the funeral and the little grave that was now in disarray.

"Oh, so that's probably what the dog was eating last night" said A, as he poured cornflakes into his bowl. "Was wondering what it was. It sounded really crunchy."

Ewww.