Pathetic.
I spend hours grazing through facebook, lurking in other people's pages and entries, looking...for what? I don't know. There are causes galore in Facebook and I do resonate with some of them. But i can't seem to develop enough interest in them to get angry or sign a statement, or even share them with others. I'm in a funk, a pretty deep one.
Facebook is a drug. It brings you nowhere but it provides some kind of relief, in this case, from the nothingness of a day of no work, no friends, no funds. It is a virtual barkada or even workplace that doesn't even know I exist.
I look for people to chat with but no one really interests me. Or I'm afraid I would be bothering them -- everyone seems so busy, so preoccupied with their own activities and I just sit here looking busy, but really, just hanging out, hoping the angst that's eating me up would go away.
It will be a long summer. I hope something comes up soon. I have several pots on the fire but they haven't bubbled up yet, if they ever do. I need to be occupied. I need to focus on something. I need to earn.
Universe, help. Dad, please do something. I need some good news that will tide this family over. I know it will come. God has never let me down. The jobs do come in and I make the necessary money to keep things going at home. I just have to patient, visualize the solutions, and believe.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
dumbing down -- 6 march 2010
i have had problems with the spoken word lately. in the middle of a spoken sentence, i have often had to stop to find the right word. and often, i have had to resort to tagalog to express what i mean. i suspect this has had to do with the fact that i've been editing other people's work for too long. i have had to acquire their language, the cadence of their sentences, the idiosyncracies of their expression, in order to edit them faithfully, while preserving the integrity of their manuscript. while this is legitimate professional work, it has had the effect of dumbing me down, so to speak.
i haven't even had the energy to write my own stuff, or to read a book. at the end of the day, my eyes are bleary from editing other people's work, and outside of it, i cannot focus on the printed word for too long. so i've been watching TV sitcoms to relax and fall asleep to.
talk of dumbing down.
last friday, i was invited to a birthday dinner in dasmarinas village. it was karina bolasco's birthday party that she was co-celebrating with linda panlilio. apparently, linda has been running a kind of salon at her place where the literati are welcome and where they feel right at home. not being a literary writer, i had no idea this existed. so when i got the invite saying karina and linda invite you, i had to ask, who is linda?
when i walked into linda's parlor with no idea what to expect, i felt a moment of panic seeing a roomful of people, half of who were new to me. and as the rest of the guests streamed in, i realized i was at a party of literary writers -- poets, novelists with literary awards casually tucked in their back pockets. how many of them had i read? embarrassingly, only one. i hoped that i wouldn't be asked, or that there would be no discussions about the merits of anyone's work!
but the company was warm and accepting, and fun. the conversation was thankfully mundane. i didn't stand out like a sore thumb or wilt like an abandoned plant in a corner. there was enough interest in me, the new person in what seemed like a tight group. feasting on bleu cheese and salami and sangria and wine, they wanted to know about my brother jim, his latest projects, his tussle on tweeter with Gringo. such fan-like concerns from a supposedly erudite group!
i felt right at home. And to my surprise, words -- the right ones -- simply floated seamlessly out of my mouth. i wasn't trying to be smart or erudite, i thought i was just being myself, but that night, i probably found a part of myself that i hadn't been in touch with for a while -- my long-untapped thinking, creative self. it was delightful hearing the verbs, nouns and adjectives tumbling out of my mouth like musical notes. for once in a long long while, i wasn't grasping helplessly for words. It was like breathing pure, clean air.
later in the evening, some of us gathered around a grand piano where the pianist who seemed to know every song ever written, made it easy for even non-singers to reach every note. here i felt i had a slight edge over most of the talent in the room.
i must remember to thank karina for including me in her exclusive guest list. knowing her, i think she must have a plan in her head to rescue me from the dreariness of editing mode and bring me back to the thrill of creativity as I recover my own voice. i have a long ways to go. i still have my editing job that i think i'm good at. but i now know how much i need to nurture that part of me that has been repressed for so long.
now that hard part begins.
i haven't even had the energy to write my own stuff, or to read a book. at the end of the day, my eyes are bleary from editing other people's work, and outside of it, i cannot focus on the printed word for too long. so i've been watching TV sitcoms to relax and fall asleep to.
talk of dumbing down.
last friday, i was invited to a birthday dinner in dasmarinas village. it was karina bolasco's birthday party that she was co-celebrating with linda panlilio. apparently, linda has been running a kind of salon at her place where the literati are welcome and where they feel right at home. not being a literary writer, i had no idea this existed. so when i got the invite saying karina and linda invite you, i had to ask, who is linda?
when i walked into linda's parlor with no idea what to expect, i felt a moment of panic seeing a roomful of people, half of who were new to me. and as the rest of the guests streamed in, i realized i was at a party of literary writers -- poets, novelists with literary awards casually tucked in their back pockets. how many of them had i read? embarrassingly, only one. i hoped that i wouldn't be asked, or that there would be no discussions about the merits of anyone's work!
but the company was warm and accepting, and fun. the conversation was thankfully mundane. i didn't stand out like a sore thumb or wilt like an abandoned plant in a corner. there was enough interest in me, the new person in what seemed like a tight group. feasting on bleu cheese and salami and sangria and wine, they wanted to know about my brother jim, his latest projects, his tussle on tweeter with Gringo. such fan-like concerns from a supposedly erudite group!
i felt right at home. And to my surprise, words -- the right ones -- simply floated seamlessly out of my mouth. i wasn't trying to be smart or erudite, i thought i was just being myself, but that night, i probably found a part of myself that i hadn't been in touch with for a while -- my long-untapped thinking, creative self. it was delightful hearing the verbs, nouns and adjectives tumbling out of my mouth like musical notes. for once in a long long while, i wasn't grasping helplessly for words. It was like breathing pure, clean air.
later in the evening, some of us gathered around a grand piano where the pianist who seemed to know every song ever written, made it easy for even non-singers to reach every note. here i felt i had a slight edge over most of the talent in the room.
i must remember to thank karina for including me in her exclusive guest list. knowing her, i think she must have a plan in her head to rescue me from the dreariness of editing mode and bring me back to the thrill of creativity as I recover my own voice. i have a long ways to go. i still have my editing job that i think i'm good at. but i now know how much i need to nurture that part of me that has been repressed for so long.
now that hard part begins.
Friday, December 10, 2010
December 10, 2010
Home visit, part 1
I'm not used to this. To be home and not working, with no deadlines to meet. I am a working stff who doesn't know how to relax. But I've also gotten used to my space, my privacy, my solitude and this has been intense family time for me. One of these days, I'll get Poch to kidnap me for a day, just to gete my bearings back.
It is also an odd arrangement to have Edmund around all the time. And he hasn't exactly been pleasant. Plus, my money is running out fast. In fact, everyone's money is running out fast.
But I am actually happy to have Monica home with the kids. It is a good thing they have a condo to stay in -- thanks heaps, Ed Morato! -- or it would be really be a tight squeeze here at home. It already is, most of the day when they're all here.
Tomorrow, we're going out, I still don't know where. We'll take a drive somewhere pleasant. Thanks to Poch Lozano, we have access to a large van so we can travel together in one vehicle.
Maya is such a delight. A patient, happy child, the smilingest little girl in the world. I love it when she sleeps on my chest. Its the sweetest thing.
I'm not used to this. To be home and not working, with no deadlines to meet. I am a working stff who doesn't know how to relax. But I've also gotten used to my space, my privacy, my solitude and this has been intense family time for me. One of these days, I'll get Poch to kidnap me for a day, just to gete my bearings back.
It is also an odd arrangement to have Edmund around all the time. And he hasn't exactly been pleasant. Plus, my money is running out fast. In fact, everyone's money is running out fast.
But I am actually happy to have Monica home with the kids. It is a good thing they have a condo to stay in -- thanks heaps, Ed Morato! -- or it would be really be a tight squeeze here at home. It already is, most of the day when they're all here.
Tomorrow, we're going out, I still don't know where. We'll take a drive somewhere pleasant. Thanks to Poch Lozano, we have access to a large van so we can travel together in one vehicle.
Maya is such a delight. A patient, happy child, the smilingest little girl in the world. I love it when she sleeps on my chest. Its the sweetest thing.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
24 November 2010
Yesterday, I was in the presence of goodness and it affected me so deeply, I was teary-eyed all throughout.
It was Howard Dee's 80th birthday, and I was privileged to be there. Viel texted me on Monday afternoon inviting me to the mass and lunch the next day. I dropped everything to be at San Jose Seminary for 11:30 am mass followed by lunch.
It was such a loving celebration of a life lived fully and well by a man so humble and compassionate, and who is so palpably close to God. Fr. Arevalo spoke of Howard Dee's five friends -- God, Blessed Virgin Mary, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Joseph, and his wife Betty. Such a wondrous life he has had, totally dedicated to his God, country, people and family. And I am so privileged to have known him and worked with him and learned fom him for the past 18 years.
At the lunch, Betty Dee told us about the life of her husband. He was the fifth of 11chldren, not born to wealth and of poor health. When he was courting her, he said, he had spent the first 20 years olf his life learning, and would spend the next 20 working. And the rest of his life, he would spend in the service of God and country. And that is exactly how he has lived his life.
Betty spoke about the three women in Howard Dee's life, according to the late Cardinal Sin. He said the first was Mary, the second Cory, and Betty only came third. She laughed saying, it's ok as long as I'm not number four! They've been married 52 years and this was the first time Howard had so many people come on his birthday. And the only way this could be possible was they kept it a secret from him.
It was good to be there -- hearing mass at the chapel in San Jose, listening to Fr. Arevalo, and just watching Howard Dee sit with his head bowed, his eyes closed tight, as if in struggle with himself whether or not to accept the kind and admiring words of his friend at the pulpit. It was just what I needed. To be in the presence of such goodness was to be refreshed, to quench the thirst that was killing my soul, to be in touch with that part of me that has been lying dormant, unreachable to my cluttered mind and heart.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of Howard Dee in my life. And for others whom You have allowed me to encounter and who have brought me closer to you -- Gasty Ortigas, Fr. Arevalo, Cory Aquino, Rapa Lopa, Sister Andy, Fr. Joel Tabora, Eva Galvey. There are many others You have sent my way just when I needed what they had to give. By their presence in my life, I know that You love me.
It was Howard Dee's 80th birthday, and I was privileged to be there. Viel texted me on Monday afternoon inviting me to the mass and lunch the next day. I dropped everything to be at San Jose Seminary for 11:30 am mass followed by lunch.
It was such a loving celebration of a life lived fully and well by a man so humble and compassionate, and who is so palpably close to God. Fr. Arevalo spoke of Howard Dee's five friends -- God, Blessed Virgin Mary, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Joseph, and his wife Betty. Such a wondrous life he has had, totally dedicated to his God, country, people and family. And I am so privileged to have known him and worked with him and learned fom him for the past 18 years.
At the lunch, Betty Dee told us about the life of her husband. He was the fifth of 11chldren, not born to wealth and of poor health. When he was courting her, he said, he had spent the first 20 years olf his life learning, and would spend the next 20 working. And the rest of his life, he would spend in the service of God and country. And that is exactly how he has lived his life.
Betty spoke about the three women in Howard Dee's life, according to the late Cardinal Sin. He said the first was Mary, the second Cory, and Betty only came third. She laughed saying, it's ok as long as I'm not number four! They've been married 52 years and this was the first time Howard had so many people come on his birthday. And the only way this could be possible was they kept it a secret from him.
It was good to be there -- hearing mass at the chapel in San Jose, listening to Fr. Arevalo, and just watching Howard Dee sit with his head bowed, his eyes closed tight, as if in struggle with himself whether or not to accept the kind and admiring words of his friend at the pulpit. It was just what I needed. To be in the presence of such goodness was to be refreshed, to quench the thirst that was killing my soul, to be in touch with that part of me that has been lying dormant, unreachable to my cluttered mind and heart.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of Howard Dee in my life. And for others whom You have allowed me to encounter and who have brought me closer to you -- Gasty Ortigas, Fr. Arevalo, Cory Aquino, Rapa Lopa, Sister Andy, Fr. Joel Tabora, Eva Galvey. There are many others You have sent my way just when I needed what they had to give. By their presence in my life, I know that You love me.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
22 November 2010
I woke up at 4 am. I knew this would happen since i went to bed at 930 last night. I tried to read but I couldn't finish a page. Didn't even bother to turn on the TV. I just drifted into sleep.
And when I woke up, my mind was full of details -- bills to be paid, budgetting for the holidays, my meetings this week, and preparing for Monica's arrival on December 4. Bring bed sheets to borrowed condo, buy toiletires and breakfast food. And the logistics of moving her brood about -- she's arriving with a baby and two young boys, with stroller and luggage. Should I try and get a pass to help her get through the baggage area and customs? Details. Details. Am I a worry wart or what?
Call Rapa to ask Bodet for a NAIA pass.
Call Ed Mo to ask for key to condo.
Tell Poch we're picking up his van at 3 PM on December 4.
Finish all my deadlnes before December 4.
I have listed down all my immediate tasks, hoping I can get them all done in time. Before Monica arrives, I have to get the PBSP write-ups and Bei's request, and the Bayan brochure out of the way. I'll gt them done. I work best on a deadline.
Meanwhile, its getting light outside. In Mandaluyong where I live, the cocks start crowing at around 2 am. But strangely, they quiet down at around 330 until 430. Then the chorus resumes. I've gotten used to it. The crowing no longer wakes me. It is a given in a neighborhood as tightly packed as this.
It is the yapping dogs that I cannot stand. I think if you own a dog, you must see to it that it is comfortable so it doesn't inconvenience your neighbors. One morning, I awoke to the incessant yelping of a dog who was obviously in need of some attention. It was the dog of the neghbor downstairs who was left outside for the night. I wouldn't kill the dog but I could see myself strangling my neighbor for inflicting such cruelty on an animal.
Speaking of dogs, I have just realized that I love Ice Tea, our scrappy little Aspin at home. In Sydney, I fell in love with Jack, but it was some kind of forbidden love since he was under disciplinary action -- meaning he was undergoing strict training under my son-in-law with rules of behaviour that I tended to violate -- and he wasn't bathed too often and so I got really dirty and smelly when I played with him. But Jack is a handsome black lab, Ice Tea is not. He's a common dog, wih traces of some pedigree watered-down through several generations of cross-breeding, probably in some back alley. His body is overly long and his front paws toe in. But its his dopey ears that get me every time.
All my life, my experience with dogs has been negative. I hated -- make that feared -- dogs. All dogs. Cute ones, handsome ones, ugly ones, freindly and fierce ones. I'd cross the street when I saw a dog on my path. It didn't matter that it wagged its tail in friendship. I just hated those yappy critters.
But now I seem to be hooked. Ice Tea comes up to me and puts his paws on my lap, asking to be petted and I stop whatever I'm doing to oblige him. I have a feeling I know where this is going. I see myself and my need to be tactile in Ice Tea. Now I know why a lot of people need a dog. They're lonely. They need to touch and be touched. And there's no more loyal, more dependable creature on earth than a dog.
On that note, allow me to say, Good Morning World, and start my day's work.
And when I woke up, my mind was full of details -- bills to be paid, budgetting for the holidays, my meetings this week, and preparing for Monica's arrival on December 4. Bring bed sheets to borrowed condo, buy toiletires and breakfast food. And the logistics of moving her brood about -- she's arriving with a baby and two young boys, with stroller and luggage. Should I try and get a pass to help her get through the baggage area and customs? Details. Details. Am I a worry wart or what?
Call Rapa to ask Bodet for a NAIA pass.
Call Ed Mo to ask for key to condo.
Tell Poch we're picking up his van at 3 PM on December 4.
Finish all my deadlnes before December 4.
I have listed down all my immediate tasks, hoping I can get them all done in time. Before Monica arrives, I have to get the PBSP write-ups and Bei's request, and the Bayan brochure out of the way. I'll gt them done. I work best on a deadline.
Meanwhile, its getting light outside. In Mandaluyong where I live, the cocks start crowing at around 2 am. But strangely, they quiet down at around 330 until 430. Then the chorus resumes. I've gotten used to it. The crowing no longer wakes me. It is a given in a neighborhood as tightly packed as this.
It is the yapping dogs that I cannot stand. I think if you own a dog, you must see to it that it is comfortable so it doesn't inconvenience your neighbors. One morning, I awoke to the incessant yelping of a dog who was obviously in need of some attention. It was the dog of the neghbor downstairs who was left outside for the night. I wouldn't kill the dog but I could see myself strangling my neighbor for inflicting such cruelty on an animal.
Speaking of dogs, I have just realized that I love Ice Tea, our scrappy little Aspin at home. In Sydney, I fell in love with Jack, but it was some kind of forbidden love since he was under disciplinary action -- meaning he was undergoing strict training under my son-in-law with rules of behaviour that I tended to violate -- and he wasn't bathed too often and so I got really dirty and smelly when I played with him. But Jack is a handsome black lab, Ice Tea is not. He's a common dog, wih traces of some pedigree watered-down through several generations of cross-breeding, probably in some back alley. His body is overly long and his front paws toe in. But its his dopey ears that get me every time.
All my life, my experience with dogs has been negative. I hated -- make that feared -- dogs. All dogs. Cute ones, handsome ones, ugly ones, freindly and fierce ones. I'd cross the street when I saw a dog on my path. It didn't matter that it wagged its tail in friendship. I just hated those yappy critters.
But now I seem to be hooked. Ice Tea comes up to me and puts his paws on my lap, asking to be petted and I stop whatever I'm doing to oblige him. I have a feeling I know where this is going. I see myself and my need to be tactile in Ice Tea. Now I know why a lot of people need a dog. They're lonely. They need to touch and be touched. And there's no more loyal, more dependable creature on earth than a dog.
On that note, allow me to say, Good Morning World, and start my day's work.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
I must, i will write something everyday
Thursday, November 18, 2020
So this is what it feels like to be dry. I am bored with my work. I have no conversation. I cannot find the words for my thoughts. I am so distracted, I can’t finish writing a sentence.
Instead of chatting, I tend to whine. I am so boring. I have no original insights. And I can’t even be funny anymore.
My soul is drying up. I thirst for a shot, of what, I don’t know.
Listened to a writer talk about writing last night. For a moment there, I was high. He spoke a language I understood completely. And I just wanted to cry.
Saturday, 20 November 2010
Another unproductive day, work-wise. But I did write a short blog this morning. It was not great but I liked that it was easy to write. It flowed quite easily at 5 AM, and I kept it to 300 words. I should write something short every day. 300 words. A small story. A single insight. An exercise in thinking, in stringing words together, in writing. Tomorrow, I will write again for an hour in the morning. Then I will go into my work. No TV, No FB. No Internet. I can do it. I will do it. Get the work out by Monday morning. There is much to do next week. Meetings, meeting, meetings.
Sunday, 21 November 2010
Good morning, world!
Last night, I went to the TOWNS Christmas Party. I’ve been avoiding going over the years because going to TOWNS affairs always costs. But this year, Mel Tiangco offered her home and had the party catered. And there was no exchange gift. Just come and enjoy the sisterhood.
There were issues that hung in the air --- political, professional, personal – but they didn’t get in the way of people expressing their strong opinions and still having arousing good time. There was laughter, empathy, brilliance, gratitude, generosity, camaraderie – and compassion. Egos were in check as most of us girls just wanted to have fun.
I came in a t-shirt with a plunging neckline, carefully made-up and in uncomfortable heels, fully aware that I had dressed up for the women, which is something I do not do as consciously when I’m out with men. Why is that? Am I that competitive? Or is it that I don’t go out much and it was fun getting dolled up? Or perhaps it is because it is ‘safe’ to live out my fantasies in the company of women.
Whatever. Now it’s back to reality. Focus, focus, Meiling. You will meet your deadline TODAY.
So this is what it feels like to be dry. I am bored with my work. I have no conversation. I cannot find the words for my thoughts. I am so distracted, I can’t finish writing a sentence.
Instead of chatting, I tend to whine. I am so boring. I have no original insights. And I can’t even be funny anymore.
My soul is drying up. I thirst for a shot, of what, I don’t know.
Listened to a writer talk about writing last night. For a moment there, I was high. He spoke a language I understood completely. And I just wanted to cry.
Saturday, 20 November 2010
Another unproductive day, work-wise. But I did write a short blog this morning. It was not great but I liked that it was easy to write. It flowed quite easily at 5 AM, and I kept it to 300 words. I should write something short every day. 300 words. A small story. A single insight. An exercise in thinking, in stringing words together, in writing. Tomorrow, I will write again for an hour in the morning. Then I will go into my work. No TV, No FB. No Internet. I can do it. I will do it. Get the work out by Monday morning. There is much to do next week. Meetings, meeting, meetings.
Sunday, 21 November 2010
Good morning, world!
Last night, I went to the TOWNS Christmas Party. I’ve been avoiding going over the years because going to TOWNS affairs always costs. But this year, Mel Tiangco offered her home and had the party catered. And there was no exchange gift. Just come and enjoy the sisterhood.
There were issues that hung in the air --- political, professional, personal – but they didn’t get in the way of people expressing their strong opinions and still having arousing good time. There was laughter, empathy, brilliance, gratitude, generosity, camaraderie – and compassion. Egos were in check as most of us girls just wanted to have fun.
I came in a t-shirt with a plunging neckline, carefully made-up and in uncomfortable heels, fully aware that I had dressed up for the women, which is something I do not do as consciously when I’m out with men. Why is that? Am I that competitive? Or is it that I don’t go out much and it was fun getting dolled up? Or perhaps it is because it is ‘safe’ to live out my fantasies in the company of women.
Whatever. Now it’s back to reality. Focus, focus, Meiling. You will meet your deadline TODAY.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Glenmore Park, Sydney, Australia
23 September 2010
I've been here five weeks. I didn't think I'd survive four, but at the end of five weeks with ten days to go before I leave for home, I find that I am settling in very well to the life here. Well, to the life here in Monica and Edge's house. I haven't really been out there navigating through Aussie society. I've just been home helping with housework and caring for Maya. I've cooked, cleaned house, done laundry, even sewed bed lnens for Maya's crib and made her two body pillows. And I've enjoyed myself immensely.
I keep telling myself that I am ejoying myself because I know it isn't forever -- that I will go home one day to resume life as I've always known it -- which is an endless stream of writing assignments. Pure drudgery, but it brings in the bacon.
I realized being here and truly enjyoing chopping onions, hanging up laundry, picking up sfter the boys, and sewing and darning, that I can do these very well and I am happy doing them. the reason I never did them was because I was always busy making a living and doing anything that was not work as I've known it has always made me feel guilty about 'wastng' precious time. Even reading books and watching movies on dvd have been anathema since these are non-producive pursuits.
Which has made me realize how much I've missed in life -- the small joys of home making, the ability to relax and have 'me' time. Now I can't wait to retire and live my twilight years pleasing myself and my grandchildren.
I've been here five weeks. I didn't think I'd survive four, but at the end of five weeks with ten days to go before I leave for home, I find that I am settling in very well to the life here. Well, to the life here in Monica and Edge's house. I haven't really been out there navigating through Aussie society. I've just been home helping with housework and caring for Maya. I've cooked, cleaned house, done laundry, even sewed bed lnens for Maya's crib and made her two body pillows. And I've enjoyed myself immensely.
I keep telling myself that I am ejoying myself because I know it isn't forever -- that I will go home one day to resume life as I've always known it -- which is an endless stream of writing assignments. Pure drudgery, but it brings in the bacon.
I realized being here and truly enjyoing chopping onions, hanging up laundry, picking up sfter the boys, and sewing and darning, that I can do these very well and I am happy doing them. the reason I never did them was because I was always busy making a living and doing anything that was not work as I've known it has always made me feel guilty about 'wastng' precious time. Even reading books and watching movies on dvd have been anathema since these are non-producive pursuits.
Which has made me realize how much I've missed in life -- the small joys of home making, the ability to relax and have 'me' time. Now I can't wait to retire and live my twilight years pleasing myself and my grandchildren.
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