Unusually preoccupied (formerly otherwise engaged).

Bagets

2007-05-17T15:26:00.000+08:00

How to do a cover for an anthology of fiction for young adults? Outright I had already decided to depict a boy and a girl. The problem, though, was how. Will they be interacting? Will they be oblivious of each other? The scrapbook idea is something I've long been wanting to do, and I finally found a use for it as a cover for a UP Press book. I like how it gives a feeling of something voyeuristic about it; like you chanced upon somebody's open journal. I'm also very pleased with how the ring binding turned out, how it coincides with the spine to make it look unique when on the shelf. But it would have been nicer though if the book were thicker so it would not be covered up by all the info on the spine. Oh well.

Anton, sleeping.

2007-05-17T14:32:00.000+08:00

Fast becoming my favorite subject is Anton. I am constantly amazed at how beautiful he is, especially when he is sleeping (but of course, you will understand my bias.) Did these two sketches right after I put him to sleep on two separate occasions. The one on the right is the older one, done when he was only 6 months and 1 week old. The one on the left (with the watercolor of my artwork for the Bagets cover striking through was done a month later.)

Nesting instinct

2006-06-15T08:55:00.000+08:00

after months of neglect, this blog might soon start getting busy again, thanks to my upcoming and much-anticipated preoccupation--Anton.

the subtitle of the blog would now henceforth be known as: From Singleton to Smug Married to Harassed Mom. A journal of thoughts and insights on the married life...and motherhood.

till then, au revoir. i have to take care of the literal housecleaning in our apartment before i become blog-crazy again. and the scrapbooks! i have to finish my wedding scrapbooks before i get started on anton's. aaaarggh. so much to do--and so little time! before i know it the sem's gonna be over, my baby will already be walking and talking, and i haven't done stricken anything yet off my list!

Finally...my first solo show!

2006-05-26T15:37:00.000+08:00

You are cordially invited
to the opening of

M A Y M. T O B I A S
A b s t r a c t R e a s o n i n g

June 10 to 30, 2006
The Corredor
UP College of Fine Arts

Opening Reception at 3 PM on June 10, 2006

post christmas reflections

2005-12-26T14:42:00.000+08:00

thank god christmas is over. i can't believe i spent the whole of last week doing practically nothing except shopping and wrapping gifts, and attending christmas parties. now i still have a lot of work on my hands, all of which need to be done before classes start again.

the good thing about it is that my family loved the gifts i gave them, despite my very limited and modest budget. i tried to make up for the inexpensiveness of the gifts with the thought that went to each and every item. (that's why i practically spent three whole days in greenhills, mega and shangri-la malls). the most difficult to find and most expensive items i bought for my sister, the bank vp who practically has everything, and my mom (whom i'd given practically everything from make-up to baking equipment).

to be cont'd.

unusually preoccupied.

2005-11-06T12:57:00.000+08:00

i realized i have not blogged here in a really long time. have been blogging instead in friendster, because it's more accessible--i can send messages, check messages and friend requests as i blog. neat. although it has recently added this really stupid feature called "who's viewed me", which nobody uses anyway.

A's gone to davao, for a coverage. he'll be there for three days, then two days in pampanga. so i will be by my lonesome :(

shortly, i will be packing and driving to antipolo to pay my parents a visit and, consequently, save money on food and utilities (hehehe) for the next five days A will be gone. my mom sounded overjoyed on the phone when i told her. i can hardly wait to sleep in my old room. too bad G, my sister and former roomie, is in the states right now for a month-long vacation.

lalala. am nearly done with my paintings. just read about in in my friendster blog. if you are not in my friendster, then you're probably not meant to read it because you are no friendster of mine, lala.

Kissing Purity Test

2005-10-15T20:26:00.000+08:00

Your Kissing Purity Score: 49% Pure

You're not one to kiss and tell...

But word is, you kiss pretty well.

Kissing Purity Test

My Favorite On-Screen Kisses of All Time

2005-08-26T00:01:00.002+08:00

1. Julian Sands and Helena Bonham-Carter, in "A Room with a View"
Bonham-Carter (Lucy Honeychurch) is standing in the middle of a field of flowers (a field of violets, as described by E.M. Forster, in his novel). Sands (George Emerson) walks toward her from behind. The camera dollies in and swings around them as he takes her in his arms to give her a long passionate kiss.

2. Julian Sands and Helena Bonham-Carter, in "A Room with a View"
I love Julian Sands :P After playing tennis, Daniel Day-Lewis (playing an uncharacteristically dweeby boyfriend Cecil Vyse) and Bonham-Carter make their way back to the house. They bump into Sands; Day-Lewis' clueless character goes ahead of Bonham-Carter whose path Sands mischievously blocks. Again, without even so much as a word, he grabs her by the arms and steals a kiss. Yum-mee! He just positively looked devilish after that kiss.

3. Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst in "Spiderman"
Because it's upside-down and it's very wet.

4. Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally"
That kiss Crystal (Harry Burns) gives Ryan (Sally Albright) after giving this speech:

I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Now, how can you not like a kiss delivered after a speech like that?

5. Jeff Bridges and Barbra Streisand, in "The Mirror Has Two Faces"
To a swelling musical background of "Nessun Dorma" performed by Pavarotti, Bridges (Gregory Larkin) and Streisand (Rose Morgan) embrace, kiss and make up, and kiss and sway non-stop in the middle of a street in Manhattan. When they start kissing it is still dawn, and as they finish just before the credits stop rolling, it is already light. It is magical--and funny, because the kissing makes the two characters so horny and the scene fades out on them as they frantically flail their arms to flag down a cab to take them home.

6. Colin Firth and Renee Zellweger, in "Bridget Jones's Diary"
The kiss at the end where Zellweger's (Bridget Jones) clad only in a tank, animal print panties, a cardigan and trainers. Firth (Mark Darcy) pulls her in and encloses her in his coat and they continue kissing as snow flakes gently fall about them.

7. Hugh Jackman and Ashley Judd, in "Someone Like You"
Just because they're both beautiful. And because their kiss happens late in the movie, after all that sexual tension builds up.

8. Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson in "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days"
Because I like happy, giddy kisses.

9. Robin Padilla and Regine Velasquez, in"Kailangan Ko'y Ikaw"
Bb. Joyce Bernal made Robin Padilla so papa-ble in this movie. Yummy nung kiss nila dun sa ulan, sabay tugtog ng "Buhos na ulan, at ang mundo ko'y lunuring tuluyan..." sa background. Hehe, one of my many guilty pleasures. I have the cd of the OST and the original movie on vcd :p

10. Tobey McGuire and Kirsten Dunst in "Spiderman"
Kissing somebody in the rain while hanging upside-down must be terribly interesting, don't you think? The rush of blood to the head, and the feeling of drowning in the kiss!

2005-08-01T10:14:00.000+08:00

I am SO in love. And I could not find a container big enough to contain it, where it will not overflow.

NVM

2005-07-13T17:58:00.000+08:00

I met Nestor Vicente Madali Gonzalez, or NVM, in 1995, at the UP Baguio Writers' Workshop. I was still working as an art director for an ad agency then, spending a week's worth of vacation leaves in a writers' workshop.

NVM apparently loved to talk, and he talked to us workshoppers about everything. One time he noticed a book I was reading (a book about fiction-writing). He said he also had a copy of the book, too, and that he read a chapter every night before he went to sleep. He advised I do the same, too, and with a wink, he told me to keep the book our little secret. I've not divulged the title and the author to any other soul, to this day (well, except perhaps A--but he's my husband, whom I made to swear he'll keep it a secret).

Everything he said, I wanted to take down in my notebook--such gems of advice from a wonderful, generous, writer. He learned that I was going to Bali the week after the workshop. My office was sending me for a leadership workshop. He told me to look up an Indonesian friend (I forget the name now), handed me his business card and a P500 note, and asked me to buy a Ganesh sandalwood figurine for him.

I did not buy him a Ganesh figurine, however. Surprisingly, there weren't any nice Ganesh figurines in Bali--all of them looked very ugly and evil, and none were like the pictures of the benevolent Hindu elephant-god I'd seen (he's supposed to bring joy and happiness to the home). So I got an elegant Shiva instead, and hoped he wouldn't mind.

This--plus his change for his P500--was what brought me to his house in the UP Campus a couple of weeks later, where I got a lecture on metaphors, Vladimir Nabokov, Henry James, gestalt and creating a "synergistic wholeness" to stories, and an introduction to his former teacher's book, The Story: A Critical Anthology by Mark Schorer (which he even let me take home to read and study--and photocopy, hehe). All, incredibly, in one sitting.

Thankfully, he didn't mind the Shiva instead of the Ganesh he asked for (or he was too polite to tell me he did mind).

And he loved Chekhov. I was so fortunate to have had all the meetings I had with him in his bungalow in UP, all the mini-lectures on literature and writing. I even got critiques for 2 of my stories, which eventually got published in the Philippine Graphic Weekly (one of which came out only two weeks after i sent it). It was actually a short course on comparative literature, and he even gave me a reading list (which mostly consisted of stories from the Schorer anthology--because I told him I was interested most of all in the short story genre), and a list of books. And the top book on that list was Chekhov's Lady with the Lapdog and Other Stories. Most important of all, he gave me this advice, “If you want to write, take Comparative Lit, not Creative Writing.”

Of his own story collections I was somehow able to persuade him to name his favorite, and it was, at that time, A Bread of Salt. He said his favorite short story was "A Warm Hand".

He passed away on November 27, 1999, and I was too busy with my life at that time I wasn't even able to attend his tribute at the CCP.

Looking back now, it all seems so surreal. But to show for it, I still keep NVM’s blue calling card, and that close-up picture I took of him in a cab ride we shared in Baguio.

Leaving Home

2005-07-13T17:46:00.000+08:00

The very first time I tried to leave home was when I was only about four years old. My dad had scolded me for something I did. (I think I fought with my sister.) I was very upset because my dad was angry with me and not my sister. I was in tears and feeling very melodramatic about it. I thought perhaps he didn't love me anymore, and he loved my sister more. So I thought of leaving home.

And i remember it clearly: I remember getting a cloth diaper (disposable diapers were yet to be invented)--the sort that was made of a cloth they called bird's eye--and laid it out on top of my bed. Out of my closet I got one undershirt and two panties (the lacy, frilly kind) and laid them out on top of the diaper.

I gathered two opposite corners and tied them together, and after that, I tied the remaining corners together. I was looking for a stick, but didn't find any, and so I slung my little bundle over my shoulder like a bag.

My dad was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. I sighed (just like I saw them do it in the movies) and sat at the top of the stairs. My dad went up and sat beside me.

"So, " he said, "you've really made up your mind, huh?"

I nodded.

"You're going to leave Daddy, Mommy, Gigi and the baby?"

I give another big sigh, and nodded.

"But I don't want you to go. Everybody'll miss you."

I didn't say anything. I wanted him to be real sorry for being angry with me, and I wanted him to beg me to stay.

"So, are these the only things you'll bring?" he asked, referring to my tiny bundle. "You're not bringing much clothes, are you?"

"Nope," I shook my head sadly. I wanted him to say he loved me and that he will not be angry with me--ever. And that he'd be happy if I didn't go anymore.

"Well," he said. It was his turn to sigh. "It seems that you've already made up your mind. Mommy will be heartbroken. And Gigi won't have anybody to play with anymore. And I will surely miss my little darling."

I nodded. And waited.

"Well, "he said, finally breaking the silence, and standing up. "Let Daddy get you a cab, at least."

The world under my daddy's desk

2005-07-05T10:52:00.000+08:00

when i was a little girl, i wanted to be lots of things when i grew up. and when i grew up, i COULD do lots of things. and now i realize that my dad--or at least his desk--had a lot to do with it.

i remember being in the second grade and being interested in archaeology. i would sneak into my parents' bedroom and open the box of books under my father's desk. they were boxes we weren't allowed to touch, because in them were very expensive books my dad set an amount aside from his monthly salary and paid a lay-away plan for. there was this 5-book series that i particularly liked--the modern book of knowledge. there was a volume on astronomy, the wildlife, the oceans, biology, and archaeology. come to think of it, i also was interested in astronomy around that time, and of all the kids in my first grade class, i could draw the best solar system, because of my first-rate reference book.

it seemed that my dad was keeping the books away till my siblings and i were older, and he was saving up to buy a bookcase with glass doors where he could lock them in. but at one point he must have decided it was pointless to keep the books in boxes when my sister and i had almost worn out the boxes in our secret reading sessions under his desk, and so one day he took the books out of the boxes and let us read them, even if he believed we were still too young for them. and so i grew up never being intimidated by huge amounts of text to a page, because at a very young age i was already enjoying reading encyclopediae.

our dad never bought us dr. seuss books and bought very few picture books, and so for my amusement, i read about the stories about the eruption of mt. vesuvius at pompeii, the story of the boy king tutankhamen and ancient egypt, the histories of the lost civilizations of alexandria, mesopotamia, maya, and the lives of real indiana jones characters like howard carter. pretty soon i was reading beyond ancient and lost civilizations, and was reading the biographies of kings and their mistresses, the various saints and martyrs, and the colorful lives of artists through time like Hieronymous Bosch, Michaelangelo, Da Vinci, Cezanne, and Van Gogh.

it's the rain. i remember those childhood days. and the vivid smells-- of the rain, of the pages of the books, of the carton boxes mingling with the faint musty wood of my dad's desk.

Happy thoughts

2005-06-30T12:01:00.000+08:00

ideasoup: was so terrified of the IV.
tristanskye: but they cleaned you out, right?
ideasoup: oh yes, they cleaned me out all right. would you like a detailed account?
tristanskye: yes. hahaha.
ideasoup: first i got admitted to the pre-labor room. where, lying down on the bed, they interviewed me, then this intern came in and he said he was gonna take some blood sample.
ideasoup: so i said to myself, just close your eyes, breathe deeply, and you'll be ok. right?
tristanskye: ok. go on.
ideasoup: and then he ties this rubber strip around the crook of my arm, and he starts rubbing the soft part with a cotton ball soaked with alcohol.
tristanskye: oooohhhh.
tristanskye: then?
ideasoup: incredible, i said. i didn't even feel the usual ant bite (how my mom likes to describe the prick of the needle)
ideasoup: was so happy with myself for being such a brave girl, when i suddenly realized he wasn't beside me anymore (i'd opened my eyes to see him peeking out of the cubicle we were in). he was asking the nurses, "now what was i supposed to do with her again?"
ideasoup: "bc" ( blood count),one of the nurses says.
ideasoup: "oh, ok," the guy says. turns out he hasn't stuck the needle in me yet. grr. and so, it really hurt when he finally did. and when he was taking a while, i said to him "are you sure you're just getting a sample, and i'm not making a donation?"
tristanskye: bwahahahahahhaa
ideasoup: are you still there, or is this boring you?
tristanskye: am glad u still have ur sense of humour.
ideasoup: i tried.
ideasoup: then i got wheeled in to the OR, where the nurse said she will put the IV.
ideasoup: now i'm so terrified of IV's. have never had one, and they look like they really hurt a lot.
tristanskye: did it?
ideasoup: was told they'd have to put an IV on me because i'd not had liquids (since 11 last night) or food (since 8). then i was asked to untie my gown at the back and lie down on the operating table. the rubber felt cold against my back. i figured it really would have to be rubber because of the gore, the whatsits that come out of the patient during the operation *shudder*
ideasoup: then this man came in and started tap-tapping on my wrist. he was even humming.
tristanskye: :P
ideasoup: *_*
ideasoup: i figured he was the IV guy.
tristanskye: i didnt think it was going to be that complicated.
tristanskye: i thought they were just going to put you to sleep and then wham, bam, kazam!
tristanskye: u wake up feeling all happy
ideasoup: i was right! a little while later, i had to close my eyes, bracing myself for the IV.
ideasoup: you want me to continue the story or what? *rolling eyes*
tristanskye : yes yes please do
ideasoup: don't worry, i'm near the end of my story.
ideasoup: so he rubs an alcohol-soaked cotton on my wrist, and sticks the IV in. then more doctors come in, and they introduce themselves to me, as assistant to the anesthesiologist, assistant to the ob, the anesthesiologist, and finally, my OB.. at which point i pass out.
ideasoup: just kidding.
tristanskye: hahahahaa
tristanskye: you must have a whopping medical bill!
ideasoup: the anaesthiologist replaces the iv with anaesthesia, and i notice a mild pain shooting through one arm. then they told me that they were gonna put up my legs on the metal thingies (not stirrups, more like leg supports). ok i said, and i felt the cold airconditioning whip mercilessly on my privates as i was splayed all out, like dressed chicken being readied for baking.
ideasoup: " think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts," i said to myself.
tristanskye: *gritting teeth*
ideasoup: meanwhile down there, the ob's assistant announced that she will be cleaning me. i wanted to argue, "but i took a bath this morning, and i washed myself already!" no, i'm just kidding.
ideasoup: and suddenly, a happy thought finally came--the only happy thought i could muster at that point...now i was worried that the ob's assistant will notice i was wet!!!
ideasoup: was scared she will ask, "why is she wet?"
ideasoup: and i won't be able to answer "because to be brave, i wanted to think happy thoughts, and that was the only happy thought that came!"
ideasoup: so with that happy thought, of *bleep* with A, i passed out.
tristanskye: bwahahahahaha
tristanskye: whew!
ideasoup: that's a true story. i swear!
ideasoup: i reassured myself before passing out, pain can be pleasure ;-)
ideasoup: when i told A that story, he guffawed.
tristanskye: hahahahaaha. men usually do
ideasoup: he couldnt believe i can be thinking of that in OR.
tristanskye: but am glad you are alright.
ideasoup: yes, my horniness saved me.
tristanskye: did they take care of your myoma?
ideasoup: nope, i'm afraid that's another operation.
tristanskye: it is huge?
tristanskye: maybe you shld get that taken care of before u start trying again
tristanskye: what did the doc say
ideasoup: it's too deep in my uterus. might schedule it with childbearing, if we come to that point. or i hope it goes away.
ideasoup: less than an inch big, i think. she says they're quite common.
tristanskye: whew!
tristanskye: it's hard to be a woman, huh.
ideasoup: yes, but in all that time i was in OR, all i could think of was A. poor A. he waited for three hours. nobody was even telling him what was happening.

Bloggable lives

2005-06-29T17:05:00.000+08:00

over lunch, my husband asked me, "do you think people intentionally go out of their way to make their lives bloggable?"

without hesitation, i said yes (i believe i even rolled my eyes as i did so)--you can just look at all the material out there in cyberspace. people are making mountains out of molehills of their boring everyday lives. (saw one blog written by this woman who plays up to this image of a playgirl. she boasts about all the dates she gets and complains why it seems she can never get a man to seriously commit to her. she never mentions though--or conveniently leaves out--the crucial detail how she gets her dates, --thru a chatroom, blind date, sms? and whether at all she ever gets a call after her dates, or a second date with any of them. duh?)

in cyberspace, you can be anything! you can manipulate words in your blog so that you can reinvent yourself. you can make your life seem fantastic. it just reqires a certain 'tude. it has to be full
of 'tude. because ordinary is not bloggable.

but apparently, i didn't understand his question. "but that's pathetic!" he says. turns out, that what he meant by his question was, if people really did outrageous things just to be able to write about it in their blogs. i said of course not, bloggers unhesitatingly embellish, to make their lives interesting--or shocking, as they desire--to their readers. why do people keep journals, in the first place? isn't it because they're hoping on the off chance that somebody will pick it up accidentally and read (and in some cases, even publish) it? sadly, i've come across a lot of blogs that are what i would call literary masturbation or "pagdadyakol" (my hubby winces at this and offers s.s. instead, from "salsal" or what they call hack writing).

people write blogs because they want to be read. period.

the discussion about bloggable lives all started because i told A that i have so much material for my blogs (i have 3 active ones, plus a photoblog), out of the 5 hours i spent in the hospital this morning. i thought they must be good for something.

well, let's see.

Misnomer

2005-06-27T12:16:00.000+08:00

and so with the topic of child-rearing shoved into the backburner for the moment, my husband and i resume our pseudo-intellectual discussions over breakfast and dinner. due to the nature of A's job, we watch anc a lot (and watching it instead of my favorite lifestyle network, i wince at the horrible wardrobe, make-up and hairstyle choices of its female newscasters, with the usual exception of the fashionable carmina constantino whose moss green corduroy jacket today was so drool-worthy), as well as cnn and bbc, and we pretty much comment and nitpick on everything--politics, literature, arts, grammar (mostly from advertising copy) like those two grumpy old men in the theatre box in jim henderson's 'the muppet show' of the 70s. i forget what we were watching but pandora's box was mentioned, and to show off my art history stuff i asked him if he knew that pandora's box was an erroneous interpretation of the greek myth.

of course he didn't know, because he's never read panofsky. according to erwin panofsky, an american art historian, the box (or more accurately a huge jar) was not owned by pandora, nor was it opened by her. it was, in fact, opened by epimetheus. but, somehow, the expression "opening an epimetheus' box" doesn't quite fly.

Quo Vadis?

2005-06-23T09:36:00.000+08:00

where do we go from here?

in batman begins, bruce wayne's dad asks, "why do we fall?"
and answers his question himself, "so that we might better
learn to pick ourselves up."

finally found two poems that i wrote around five years ago.

THE UNBORN

And so I weep
for him,
whose tiny fingers
curl tightly
around mine
in sleep
he never sleeps;
whose soft, fragrant
head now
i kiss
with lips touching
only air,
and mostly
nothing else, but
dreams.

FALL

Wary
of the frailty of time
I rushed out
to collect
every
sun-dappled leaf
I could catch
in my hands
and mourned

each

that fell

to the ground

around

the shadows

at my feet.

Pain

2005-06-22T15:50:00.000+08:00

it wasn't till we were back in doctor alfiler's office that i allowed myself to cry. i couldn't help myself. i was so disappointed because i was already looking forward to giving birth in january.

i had to apologize for the outburst and dr. alfiler was so comforting. she told me something that was so poignant, that made me want to cry even more. she said that she understood my feelings, even if she had no children herself, which was perhaps why she understood only so well, and why she feels compelled to take very good care of her patients who are like children to her.

i was not aware that somebody else had stepped into the room, and only when dr. alfiler said "hi al," did i realize it was A.

i wonder what must have crossed his mind as i turned to look up at him all teary-faced. instantly i saw his face change from puzzlement to worry.

it was then i finally understood why i was crying. just yesterday, as we walked to rufo's for lunch, he was telling me how good he felt, that soon we were going to have a baby. and he looked very happy indeed, too. i teased him that he was being cocky. he denied it, but he admitted it made him feel very macho. the pregnancy made him feel like he's on top of the world, and now i could just imagine how he must feel.

and i imagined my mom and my dad, A's mom and dad, our siblings and friends who wished us well, and have been so happy for us. how are we going to tell them?

with me i am realizing that i am rather overcome with relief--perhaps because i can draw strength from my faith--that it still wasn't time yet for A and i to have a child. and i would have dreaded to bring a weak baby into the world full-term, and somehow that thought made the discontinuance of the pregnancy acceptable.

Faith

2005-06-22T15:15:00.000+08:00

is a comforting thing. you can lose everything, but thankfully, you can still hold on to your faith.

i remember watching tv one late night with A, i think it was 'emergency' on channel 7. the topic was faith healers. the sociologist they interviewed said that filipinos have this tendency to always concede their fortune and lives to a higher being--to saints and to God, that's why they readily believed whoever claimed to interceed in their behalf, because they wouldn't take responsibility to think and figure out things for themselves. A and i agreed it was a very keen observation, that it was copout fanaticism borne out of the filipinos' laziness.

but in these jaded times, i still would proudly say i have faith. there is a difference between fanaticism and faith. fanaticism is blind belief. faith, on the other hand, requires hard work. you do everything in your power to do your best, and when you've exhausted all efforts and you can safely say you gave it your all, faith then becomes the source of comfort and wellspring of strength. simply because i cannot imagine being thrown a rotten apple with worms after praying earnestly for food.

we lost the baby.

went to have an ultrasound this morning, and dr. alfiler did not find a hearbeat. the fetus was as big as expected, but there was a macro yolk sac, and no heartbeat. even without her saying anything, i could tell it from her face. she fumbled with the keys with one hand and held the transvaginal device with the other, and through it all she kept a blank expression, and avoided my gaze.

"we have a little problem," she said.

i suspected an understatement. i already expected the worst, and braced myself for it. "how's the baby, doctora?"

"the baby's as big as expected, but we have a macro yolk sac, and that is not a very good sign. the baby is supposed to get its nourishment from the yolk sac till the placenta is formed, but it seems it's not getting any, and that's why it's grown by two centimeters since the last ultrasound. and there is no fetal heart beat."

"so you mean to say the baby's dead?"

"i hesitate to give that conclusion. we need a second sight. it's our sop."

"how could it have happened?" numbly i asked. no tears, no emotions--at least not till later.

just before i went for the ultrasound, i was able to text A. asked him if he'd eaten lunch already and if we could meet for lunch. now, as i lay in the ultrasound booth with my feet still in the stirrups and with the knowledge that the baby i was carrying inside me was dead, i was rather undecided about how i felt. my phone's message alert went off, and i realized it must be A replying to my message. oh no, how am i going to tell him?

Anticlimax

2005-06-21T22:24:00.000+08:00

woke up with a start at 3 in the morning because i had to pee. and then i couldn't go back to sleep after that. my nights have been like this lately--i'd get up twice in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom. sometimes i'm lucky and fall right back to sleep. but sometimes, like this morning, i had to stare at the ceiling till my eyes went all bleary. several times, i resisted the temptation to pick up a book. i thought the mental stimulation might make it worse.

my pregnancy book says it's normal--the baby's pressure on the bladder makes it necessary for me to urinate frequently . (but at nine weeks, isn't the baby just be slightly longer than an inch? how could something so small be such big trouble, i wonder. haha.) and in late pregnancy, it's the body's way of getting itself accustomed to the regular feeding cycles once the baby is born. (okay. but must it be this early in the pregnancy?)

oh no. goodbye, dreamland. goodbye, blissful beauty sleeps.

i looked at my husband soundly sleeping (and snoring loudly) beside me and envied him. so to kill the time i entertained myself by visualizing how the baby would look like. in my mind i put together features from A's and my baby pics. but the baby i visualized was too hairy for a newborn, i thought. it wasn't a very easy exercise.

then, i consoled myself with the thought that we will be hearing the baby's heart beat for the first time later that morning. i got excited at the thought. then i felt a pang of hunger, so i reached for my stash of crackers on the bedside table and munched on a cracker. then, i wanted to go down and have a drink of water, but couldnt muster the energy to do so. i couldn't remember what happened next. it must have been the time i nodded off back to sleep. it must already have been 5 am ( i couldn't see the clock), because outside it was already getting light.

i woke up at 7 am, and i caught A just going out the door. we wanted to be early today at the doctor's today, and so i had no choice but to pull myself out of bed.

we had breakfast, then we left at 8:15 am. incredibly, there was no traffic, despite the news that there was a fire at robinsons tower. we got to the doctor's clinic at exactly 9 am, only to be told by carol the secretary that dr. alfiler had an emergency that morning and all consultations were cancelled.

A and i were so disappointed. we'd waited two weeks for the ultrasound. so we went and consoled ourselves with brunch at rufo's.

It's a girl!

2005-06-15T21:01:00.000+08:00

...my family, friends and co-teachers are betting.

which is good, because it means that:
1. i don't look puffy
2. i don't look harassed
3. it's not so obvious i am nauseous most of the time
4. i'm glowing, la-la.

the suspense is killing me.

boy or girl, i pray our little angel will be a healthy, happy baby.

The empire strikes (and I'm) back.

2005-06-11T15:52:00.000+08:00

it's been days since i last blogged. thought that being pregnant would be daily bloggable material. was wrong. i feel as boringly normal as i was before i was pregnant, only i feel heavier and bigger (cannot fit into most of my undies and clothes--especially pants). which isn't too bad, because every week i find an excuse to always shop, haha. especially for those empire waist blouses that look so ingenue on tall, slim girls but look so hopelessly fat or pregnant on me. well, i AM pregnant now. so i panic-shopped before they go out of style. they ARE so cute! so very sarah jessica parker. i already have four, as of the last count. three smocked and one with a sexy low-cut V neckline. am working out with weights so my arms will look toned even if my tummy's gigantic. which, by the way, my doctor said won't (usually) be till my fifth month. which means--the extra inches i've been gaining lately is nothing but fat, not yet the baby nor the baby stuff (yolk sac, amniotic fluid, etc). waaah!

"There's definitely a baby."

2005-06-07T17:38:00.001+08:00

went to see the doctor this morning. A came with me. we were running late, and so before getting to the doctor's clinic, i told A we will be 6th on the wait list. we got there at 9:15 and we were 7th on the wait list. and again, it took forever. so we stepped out and had breakfast at rufo's. A had the famous rufo's tapa, and i had a very delicious, juicy, fragrantly garlicky and vinegary daing na bangus. A was disappointed with the tapa, while I savored every morsel of my daing and cleaned it out save for the skin, head and the tail. A looked longingly at the poster of the scrumptious-looking liempo on the wall and wished he had that instead. i cheered him up and said we will have our lunch there later.

***

"you have a myoma," dr. alfiler said, "but definitely, there is a baby."

surprisingly, i wasn't so shocked. almost everyone i know, anyway, had a myoma. was more concerned if it posed a danger to the baby.

"it's here," dr. alfiler said, pointing to the computer monitor. " so you see there's enough space for the baby to grow, even if it increases in size. it's 3.1 cm. right now. but it's not in the way so you can still have a normal delivery."

" can you tell how old the baby is?"

" since we still cannot detect the fetal heart rate--the baby's too tiny, just 3 millimeters, we can only compute using the day of your last menstruation, and based on that, it's roughly 5 weeks and 6 days old. there, can you see it?--it's like a wing and a ball. here is the yolk sac," and she pushed some keys to mark the targets with x's. she was smiling, looking still excited about yet another baby, even after all the babies she's delivered. it was very reassuring.

i strained my neck to look at the screen. although she'd blown up the frozen images (which, by the way, required the transvaginal ultrasound device to be inside me the whole time) it was very difficult to see because it was so tiny. but i did see it, and i suppose i smiled.

" shall i call in your husband now?"

"yes, please." there is definitely a baby. focus on that, i told myself. i felt thrilled.

"what's his name?"

"al," i said, although A never wants to be called that, except when people cannot get his rather unusual name.

***

A came in--this tall man who made the ultrasound booth seem even more cramped than it actually was. he looked funny because he was carrying my white bag awkwardly in his arms, along with a rolled-up newspaper, and a couple of brown envelopes containing my medical stuff.

dr. alfiler showed him the images on the screen--pointing out the baby, the yolk sac and the myoma.

just as i thought, he was worried. but the doctor quickly reassured him by saying she's seen myoma in many of her patients, and most of these were benign.

"the baby looks just like you," i teased.

Baby's breath and baby pink roses.

2005-05-28T07:02:00.000+08:00

feeling romantic last night, A surprised me with a bouquet of 3 baby pink roses with baby's breath.

My head is full of colors.

2005-05-27T13:48:00.000+08:00

ironically. had been sitting on my bum for days the past week, waiting for inspiration. and because the doctor told me i will have to stop painting, for at least 3 and a half months, it's so frustrating because the colors now start coming to my head. it's sheer torture!

Surreal.

2005-05-24T20:36:00.000+08:00

there i was, after the appointment with dr. alfiler, still taking in the unreality of it all. thought i would text A, to inform him that i was fine (was rather disappointed he'd not thought of texting me himself) and that he will have to come with me on the next appointment. he texted back, and he said he was happy (happy?) and he told me to take care of myself (okay.).

it was so anticlimactic. i didn't know how to react. i began to miss my husband. at least four women back in the clinic had their husbands with them. wish A'd gone with me. but i was the one who didn't want him to go, in the first place.

what if it turns out to be a dud?

had lunch in a pasta place in front of UA&P, all the other places were crowded and i was unsure of what i can eat and what i felt like eating. i ruled out rufo's because of the fat and the possible sodium nitrate in the tapa, henlin because of the msg, inasal sa dalan because of the carcinogens in the barbecued chicken, and all the rest because they simply seemed uninteresting. the choice narrowed down to the pasta place not because i felt like having pasta--i did not feel like eating anything but i felt really hungry--but only because only two of the tables were occupied. i thought i might give them business.

as i sat in the restaurant waiting for my pasta putanesca, i texted A some more. i figured he might have been busy driving. but he would answer only in very short, economical messages, and mostly it was to tell me to take care of myself (of course!). i asked him if we should start telling people already, and he said it might just be too early yet, better to wait for the ultrasound. i agreed, and then i was just overcome with the need to hear his voice, so i finally called him.

he sounded distracted. i asked, where are you, and he said he was at mang danny's ( a carinderia in project 4), having lunch. oh, i said. it figures. talk to you later, then , i said, then hung up.

my tummy began having these little spasms again. it was like i was having my ovulation mittelsmerch all over instead of just in one place. i rubbed my palm on my tummy to soothe the pain and perhaps, somehow, to assure the embryo that the food was already coming. no wonder pregnant women alsways did that. i realized it really seemed natural and inevitable that one will do that.

***

as i reach my car in the parking lot, my phone rings. it's A. he delivers this long speech how he'd worried about me all morning and how he loves me so much. of course, he'll go with me on the next appointment, in fact he'd wondered if he should have gone that morning. but i reminded him, just to reassure him, that i didn't want him to go, and that it was my decision to go alone. i told him i was alright, and of course i will take very good care of myself and the baby. told him, too, i was going to go to the mall to buy clothes and underwear.

***

shopping for undies, i had a hard time. was debating with myself if i should already go for the maternity stuff or go for the large size of the regular stuff. i'm not that big yet, and it's gonna take awhile before i get big. i opt for the large size of the regular stuff.

***

thought it would be fun to already start talking to the embryo and, furthermore, start calling it Baby.

***

Oh Baby, look at how Mommy's grown so fat. Her boobs are scary. Look at them staring back at Mommy from the mirrors. Hahaha.

i'm getting very self-conscious with my boobs.

***

at 5 pm, the hunger pangs start again. My, Baby, you are a very hungry little creature. We only had lunch just a little over 3 hours ago!

have frequent little meals, i remember the doc saying.

the pangs promptly quieten as i take my first spoonful.

had dinner at pollo loco at 5:05 pm.

Positive!

2005-05-23T10:15:00.000+08:00

bought two test strips, to make sure. but there they were--2 distinctive purple bands! will save the other strip, in case the doc wants me to retake the test.

texted my friends to get their ob gyne's numbers. got two contact numbers--dr. vergara's and dr. alog's. only dr. vergara responded, but the earliest, though, i could get a check-up with her was on friday, unless i drive all the way to makati or manila where she holds clinic from monday to thursday. but i can't wait that long! so i had to search my stuff for my old ob gyne's contact details--dr. alfiler is really good and i really like her of all the ob gynes i've had, but i'd not wanted to go to her because i didn't like her secretary. well, anyway, i thought i could put this aside and hope she'd already changed her secretary. it's been a year, after all.

sadly, it was still her old secretary. but she didn't sound all that bad, and she even said she remembers me (maybe because that last time i saw her, i got quite an earful from her for not going to the specialist as dr. alfiler prescribed).

***

yup. the two bands are still there.

***

2 bands. purple. check.

Fooling around with make-up

2005-05-19T14:51:00.000+08:00

" What's the point? It'd still be me--only in color."
--Barbra Streisand as Rose Morgan in The Mirror has Two Faces.

Experimented with some shimmery make-up--all from Bloom (which i bought from Beauty Bar for the lovely packaging), from loose powder to pressed powder to eyeshadow to lipstick. Then, I remembered I didn't have any eyeliner, because I had gotten rid of old makeup when I was packing my stuff to move to my new apartment. So, did I look any different? Maybe not so much. Only shinier. For the before and after pics, go to my photoblog.

Not my forte.

2005-05-01T11:18:00.000+08:00

Tried painting yesterday. Had this concept in my head I wanted to try out so I can finally complete my reqs for FA 236--10 pcs. 4x4 ft paintings. Daunting!

Sadly, my first attempts didn't work. They failed, miserably. And I only came to terms with it after I've finished 1 can of metallic red aerosol paint on two 1x1's. (This project's SO expensive.) Good thing I am still way ahead of sked. But I really, really want for this to work, and soon, because: 1) I gave my word of honor to Prof Vinluan, 2) I can hardly wait to hold my first one-woman show and invite all my friends--old and new (like it's my wedding all over again!), 3) I only have the summer vacation to work on this, and 4) our living room wall is still bare and I'd promised A one of the 4x4's.

But A--ever the darling--said they didn't look too bad, when he saw the two studies when he got home last evening. That gave me hope.

So tomorrow I will have to go back to the hardware (and perhaps National) and do more research. It's a good thing I still have 14 more pieces of 1x1's to experiment with.

And I suppose I can still salvage my 2 experiments yesterday. Will look for some gold acrylic paint. That might do the trick.

Study

2005-04-28T21:11:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-28T20:17:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-26T20:44:00.000+08:00

Drawing class
Originally uploaded by mayday_mayday.

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

Bumming around.

2005-04-26T12:34:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-24T00:56:00.000+08:00

Sunrise
Originally uploaded by mayday_mayday.

Bed heads

2005-04-24T00:44:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-04-17T07:35:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-13T12:35:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-12T16:33:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-01T08:15:00.000+08:00

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.

Self portrait

2005-03-29T17:15:00.000+08:00

Time to clean the bathrooms!

2005-03-29T16:51:00.001+08:00

Aquaboy and Toilet Duck to the rescue!

Crass neighbors

2005-03-29T04:51:00.000+08:00

I never realized how very sheltered I've been till A and I moved to our apartment here in QC. For years I've lived in my parents' house in Antipolo and after that, because of work, I'd invariably lived in a condo building in Makati, then my lease-to-own 10th floor studio in QC (which I had to eventually give up ), always not bothering to know the neighbors, never even pressured to make conversation with them in the elevator. How anti-social, 'no?

But it's totally different out here. There's parking space in the compound for at least nine cars (why A and I chose the place, in QC it's a luxury)--six in front of the apartments, and three in the unpaved area where the residents hang their laundry. Before we moved in, we knew there was only one other car that was going to be using the parking space aside from A's and my car. Little did we know we were going to be sharing parking space with this truck (!) owned by somebody down the street, and a host of cars--different sorts, I can never keep track of how many they are--whose occupants call at the first and third doors (who are related, by the way). So to avoid inconveniencing and being inconvenienced by the moving of cars whenever our neighbors had guests A and I just graciously opted to share the unpaved parking with the truck and the laundry, oh, and the compound's garbage and the caretaker's mangy flea-infested dogs (yecch!).

Well, anyway, there was this time when I came home very late at night--around eleven PM, and as I pulled into my unlit, unpaved parking, a car was immediately behind me which pulled into the paved driveway in front of the apartments. Well, naturally, I thought it was Eric's from the second door's. He always comes in late. So because I was near the gate, I did what I thought was the good neighborly thing which was to close the compound gates for the night. When suddenly, incredibly, I heard not a word nor any recognizably articulate humanly expression, but an angry and frantic "Sssut-sssut-sssut". And as I looked in the direction of the apartments where the sound was coming from, there was this backlit fat woman flailing her arms which my brain instinctively recognized as an instruction to not close the gates because the car apparently was not Eric's but a guest's which had just dropped off the woman. In the dark the woman obviously mistook me for one of the compound's maids.

I was incredulous, not to mention indignant, and I walked as fast as I could toward the brightly lit driveway so that I could make the woman realize her mistake. Because I was so very upset and feeling very insulted (not for being mistaken as a maid but rather at being subjected to such a gross behavior), I could not immediately think of anything to say. (To anything, I've always been known to react very belatedly.) But at that point the woman had already quickly disappeared behind the first door anyway. I just hope she had a good look at me before she did. I was near tears when I got inside our apartment. Then I told A what had happened and it made him very mad, I had to stop him from going to the first door to confront the woman.

Now the woman, I noticed, is always in a hurry whenever she walks in front of our apartment. Maybe she did get a good look at me that night and realized her mistake after all. And I always make sure I throw her a dagger look whenever she happens to walk by our apartment. But the frustrating thing is, she carefully avoids eye contact and walks straight ahead.

My special all-around marinade

2005-03-27T09:40:00.000+08:00

Here's a recipe for a marinade I invented that I'm going to share, and it works with chicken, beef, and is especially wonderful for making juicy pan-broiled pork chops--yum! The recipe is for 2 cuts of 3/4 inch pork chop, so just adjust measurements accordingly.

1/2 cup Coconut soy sauce
1/2 cup Kikkoman all-purpose soy sauce
4 tablespoons French's yellow mustard
1/4 cup fresh calamansi juice

Simply mix everything and marinate chicken, beef, or pork with it for at least 20 minutes (the longer, the better). Then roast, fry or pan-broil. It smells heavenly, and is guaranteed to make the neighbors envious of your dinner. Bon appetit!

Morning breath

2005-03-27T09:01:00.000+08:00

For the past four months I've been married, I have come to realize now that I am solely responsible for how my husband's breath smells like in the morning, i.e., that if I want his breath to be sweet-smelling like warm, freshly-baked pan de sal when I wake up, I shouldn't feed him anything with lots of garlic and onions the night before--eww!

There was one time when I went out with my girl friends shortly after Christmas. I forget now what I had for dinner, but when I went to bed late that night, I could tell from A's face when I kissed him that I had such a foul-smelling breath from all the onions that was in my dinner. I must have brushed my teeth three times, flossed till my gums bled and was already sorely tempted to drink the Astring-o-sol and yet it wasn't till the next day that the taste of the onions was gone.

When we were small, and we would kiss our parents early in the morning, our dad used to always tell us to magmumog (rinse our mouths) first, to take the "Dari Creme" out. How imaginative of my dad thinking the taste of one's mouth in the morning as something like Dari Creme spread.

Requiem

2005-03-27T03:30:00.000+08:00

Today I terminated 10 happy years with one of my credit cards. I had been trying to do so for the last two weeks or so, but could not, because, it turns out, I still had an outstanding balance of Php 1,794.89 from my last transaction. I settled it in full at Security Bank last Tuesday and attempted to cancel again through phone, but was advised by the girl at the other end of the line that it seems the payment had not been posted by Security Bank yet as of that afternoon. I was assured, though, that all that there will be no letter of requests that will be required and the termination will be swift and painless. I had forgotten to follow it up all through Wednesday so when I tried again last Thursday I found out there won't be phonebanking services till Black Saturday.

So come today, the morning of Black Saturday, I made the call.

It was a guy who answered this time, and after he asked what he can do for me, as usual, we went through the rigmarole of caller verification--name, credit card no., birthday, home and office address, home and office no.,and finally, my mother's maiden name. Then he asked what the reason was for my request for cancellation, I answered, "I simply can't afford to keep a credit card anymore." And then, the melodramatic litany, "Because I used to have a high-paying job in advertising but am now a university professor with measly wages living a pathetic hand-to-mouth existence. Because I used to enjoy junkets during post production projects in Hongkong and Singapore and now I could ill-afford to spend even just a weekend in Tagaytay. Because I used to afford to shop in Glorietta, Greenbelt or Power Plant whenever I felt depressed, whenever I felt happy, or whenever I just felt like it, and now to shop for new clothes, I go for all the Surplus Shops I could find in all the SMs." Of course, the melodramatic litany was just in my head.

The guy told me he will have to put me on hold, and as he did so, the waiting-music came on. It struck me how apt the muzak that coincided with the occasion--it was Ravel's Pavane pour une Infante défunte (Requiem for a Dead Princess). On hindsight, I remember it seemed it's always been some celebratory air from Mozart.

So when the guy came back on the line and was asking me if I was certain that I wanted the cancellation, all nostalgia washed over me, all the ten years of happy shopping in my favorite stores in my other life flashed before my eyes, and I had to keep myself from changing my mind and dramatically screaming "No, stop! Please, I wanna keep my AIG Visa credit card!!!"

But instead I said "Yes." Rather impassively.

The guy said that the account was now cancelled and then he asked if there was anything more he could do for me.

I bit my lower lip, and said to the phone, "No, that will be all. Thank you very much." And then quickly hung up before I could apply for a new card.

I think the occasion calls for some serious shopping this afternoon with my Mastercard.

"Kiss mo 'ko, dali!"

2005-03-24T15:28:00.000+08:00

What A said to me just before lunch, after spending the whole morning tinkering with his motorcycle. His whole face was all scrunched up all into this giant pucker, that I just had to laugh out loud.

He was, in his funny way, feeling romantic, and I was only too happy to oblige my sweaty-pie while I played the little wife preparing our lunch of fried chicken (which used to be leftover roasted chicken last night), recycled chicken macaroni salad (which I'd ingeniously used as a topping for a lettuce, cucumber and tomato salad), and rice.

"I wonder if the other couples are like us," A smiled, with his arms still tight around me.
"Like what?" I asked, feebly trying to wriggle out because the fried chicken was beginning to smell burnt.
"Well, you know, I wonder if they kiss their spouses often, like we do."
"Maybe naman..." nonchalantly I said, although secretly I smiled and doubted if the other couples were having it as great as we were. And I remembered I was going to write about the other day in my blog but failed to do so because there were just too many things to do. Last Tuesday, coming home from work, after we kissed, A hugged me tightly and then whispered hotly in my ear, " I missed you, sweetie. I love you."

It feels really, really very nice, to feel so loved.

Candid camera

2005-03-20T15:43:00.000+08:00

Literally sleeping like a baby. Wahaha. A's gonna kill me for posting this not-so-flattering portrait. Well, only if he discovers this blog, that is. I couldn't resist it, the photo's just so funny.

Transitions

2005-03-19T15:34:00.000+08:00

Funny how three months of being married effortlessly transforms a singleton into a smug married. Happily, the transition was not too difficult for me. Well, of course, I would have to admit there are days I wish I was back in my mom's house where I can wake up to the smell of coffee brewing and breakfast (my mom's special tocino, and oh, her yang chow!) waiting for me, or wish I didn't have to plan the menu, or think if it was already time to change the sheets, polish the floor, or disinfect the bathroom, on top of all the million and one things I have to do, decide and figure out. I also miss my old, cramped 10th floor condo unit and the dear old familiar clutter. But all that I'd have to live with now, gladly, all for each and every morning--still with a thrill--I wake up warm, safe and snug in my husband's arms. Married life is just so wonderful.

Images of Sangat Island, Palawan

Ephemera

2005-02-15T00:39:00.000+08:00

valentines_day
Originally uploaded by mayday_mayday.

My first valentine's day as a married woman. This was what my valentine gave me. A bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed white roses (sans the baby's breath which I had to get rid of to fit them into my slim, tall vase). What a pity a thing of beauty lasts only a few days.