discovering me, discovering you

incidentally, i cringe whenever i hear the song i got this post’s title from. and cringing is never a good thing. someone told me earlier that i’m masochistic.

i spent labor day “laboring” over some personal reflections by members of a marriage encounter group we’re currently working with. some made me laugh (“where the sunlight could pass through me”), some made me cry (something or other that i couldn’t make heads or tails of) and some made me better appreciate having someone to love.

browsing thru my blog archives, i felt a tinge of dismay when i realized i never got around to writing about experiencing discovery weekend with javie last july 2008. well, i fully intend on remedying that now.

for those who are not in the know (you must be unattached OR simply not catholic) (and i’m not catholic either), discovery weekend is a retreat of sorts for couples who are looking to taking the next big step. they call themselves a “marriage preparation seminar”, which is (strictly speaking) inaccurate by their own admission because it is NOT a crash course for learning how to cook, keeping house or changing diapers. it DOES NOT teach you how to put up with your husband’s habit of leaving dirty socks on the floor, or give you the secret for turning him from his sinful, getting-the-toilet-seat-wet ways.

no, dear chicas (and chicos?). that counts as one of the greatest mysteries of the universe, alongside ufos and why la sallians insist on being called gang green.

what dw IS about is discovery (duh):

1. whether you are ready (you set your own standards, with some guidance from folks who’ve been down the aisle)
2. whether your significant other is ready (also by your standards, hehe, let me get to the next point)
3. whether the two of you should be together for the next hundred years (compatibility in values, goals, sex drives…)
4. and whether it’s a good idea to get hitched tomorrow, next year, or after one of you becomes an emotional grown-up (and if the last one, whether you wanna stick around for that, if it’ll happen). (we’re told that some people do break up after attending dw. better to discover things before tying the knot then; no divorce laws in this country and annulments are tedious and expensive.)

of course, i didn’t know about all that until after our first session (so aren’t you lucky to be reading this). attending was javie’s parents’ idea, and i’d be lying if i said there wasn’t a bit of resistance on my part. i’d thought that dw was about keeping your ass flat on a seat while some strongly-opinionated catholic couples lectured you against premarital sex and decided on whether you were adult and morally-upright enough to take on the responsibilities of marriage. i didn’t like the idea of sharing intimate details about my relationship with strangers (i actually thought there’d be one-on-one sessions), and i’m always dead-set against being told what to do and what not to do (i have authority issues).

it came as a pleasant surprise to know that not only were all sharings just between me and javie, no one tried to force religious doctrine down my throat or tell me whether or not i’m ready to be a mrs. (they did, however, distribute pamphlets on family planning and the literature said that contraceptive pills are abortifacients. ano ba? contraceptive nga eh, there’s nothing to kill, from what i understand. it depends on the type of pill. i feel very, very strongly about this but i’ve digressed enough.)

to sum it up, i felt really, really good after attending dw. javie and i discovered many new things about each other, and we enjoyed a deeper sort of intimacy as a result. one of the things that i really appreciated was knowing about his feelings, because he’s not a mushy type of guy. maybe it follows an important rule in writing poetry: show, not tell. well, sometimes, a girl likes to be told anyway.

as of late, there have been a number of engagements and weddings to take note of (thank you, facebook) and i do feel the itch to change my relationship status already (hahaha!) but all in good time. i’m absolutely horrible at the skill of waiting (i must have low eq) but i’m trying to be a good girl(friend).

so, yes, we should’ve raced down the aisle way ahead of you (and you and you) but we’re going to do things the right way, even if it takes longer than we want it to. you know that campaign for abstinence until marriage with the purity rings? i don’t subscribe to the idea but i will steal and imbibe their credo with my own definition of waiting.

just please, baby, i am not going to wear a cheesy signet ring like this.

good night, my darlings

all is quiet now.

henrietta bengzon
2 january 2008 – 12 april 2009

Good night my angel, time to close your eyes,
And save these questions for another day.
I think I know what you’ve been asking me,
I think you know what I’ve been trying to say.
I promised I would never leave you,
Then you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away.

Good night my angel, now it’s time to sleep,
And still so many things I want to say.
Remember all the songs you sang for me,
When we went sailing on an emerald bay.
And like a boat out on the ocean,
I’m rocking you to sleep
The water’s dark and deep, inside this ancient heart
You’ll always be a part of me.

Good night my angel , now it’s time to dream,
And dream how wonderful your life will be.
Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullabye,
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me.
Someday we’ll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on
They never die
That’s how you and I will be.

- Lullabye, Billy Joel

hello sacramento!

just made this for my aunt and uncle in california. they’re actually my lolo’s sister and bro-in-law, but i got used to referring to them the same way my mom and titas do. i’ve met them only once, way back when i was just 11 years old. but i wanted to do a little something for them that my lola can take when she visits next week.

laya got me into this digi-scrapbooking craze a while back, but this is actually the first time i made anything. i’ve been downloading free design kits like mad, staying up ’til 2am just waiting for the download to finish.

there’s one thing missing here though: why i actually wanted to do all this. a few weeks back, i read arlene chai’s novel the last time i saw mother. and while i don’t particularly like it (because the sentences. are. constructed. haltingly.) i appreciate its project of retelling the second world war thru the experiences of three women. while fictional, the stories are based on real-life accounts and made the war something more real and tangible to me.

uncle is a survivor of the bataan death march. i wanted to tell him how grateful i was for the part he played in defending our country. but i don’t know how to put it here, not just because it’s something i find rather emotional, but also because he seems to begrudge our country. he absolutely refuses to come here, even for just a short visit. perhaps because of the whole war veterans compensation issue?

whatever it is, i hope this will be enough to make him smile.

hakot

once upon a time, i wrote my very first restaurant review for the now-defunct Manifesto magazine (i guess guys weren’t/aren’t too interested in culture and lifestyle after all). just dug it up again to send over to some folks who need a writer. had to retype the damn thing because my laptop’s crashed for more times than i’ve had boyfriends (what?) so i’m posting it here for posterity.

ps. it’s very drab. i tried to kill the author. thanks though, iggy.

. . .

IN-YÓ FUSION CUISINE

RENDEZVOUS

The next time your girlfriend tries to sweet talk you into treating her to the spa, propose a mutually beneficial compromise: a hideaway of gustatory delights tucked in the fringes of Katipunan Avenue.

The REAL Hell’s Kitchen

my beloved tony bourdain made a listing of what’s hot and what’s not in the cooking world. and THIS really takes the cake. literally.

here’s what someone had to say about it:

Nobody Does it Like Sandra Lee

In general, I’m pretty dichotomous about the shows I watch on the Food Network. Paula Dean and Alton Brown: yes; Rachael Ray and Emeril: no. But there are a couple shows that hover in the middle, like Good Eats and, more recently, Sandra Lee’s show. Her shtick is that she makes “semi-homemade” things: meals and baked goods using pre-made products and mixes. She is utterly fascinating to watch, because she somehow manages to take generally innocuous items, like Pillsbury crescent rolls, and make them the most disgusting thing possible using a lot of time and other random ingredients. Seemingly, her tolerance for partially hydrogenated soybean oil is limitless.

the sex-riddled post

while browsing facebook, i found a group called It’s Not My Fault What You Said Can Be Misconstrued as A Sexual Innuendo. so i joined and went to have a look-see at the photo album:

too much fun not to blog about

it all started with a yahoo news feature on the top ten foods we love to hate. among them is cilantro:

Did you know Julia Child hated the leafy herb? But behavioral neuroscientists would argue that America’s food darling had no control. It’s all about genetics. Studies have linked liking cilantro to being able to detect the “pleasing” chemicals in the leaf.

that makes sense. i wish i could use the same reason for not liking ampalaya, liver and sole.

i took a look around the serious eats website and found this:

polar bears are putting horror stories of eating cute seals to rest. hello, frozen watermelons!

i’m totally hot for guys who can cook, assuming they don’t look like they eat every litle bit of what they cook. it particularly wows me when these male kitchen wonders trythen there was this amazing dad who made an incredibly realistic lego cake for his kid’s birthday:

cake? what cake?

i sent the link to lego-loving vip and he directed me to another fun site. i guess baking disasters kind of deserve a “tribute” of sorts, if only as a “what-not-to-do” for those of us who may get the same crazy ideas.

so many men, so little time

if i hadn’t read the rest of the entry, i wouldn’t have guessed that it’s a man’s chest (complete with thick, clumpy raisin hair). no nipples? not knowing would’ve saved me from gagging.

so, it's true?

it’s actually a pretty cake until you pay close attention: now doesn’t it remind you of the mythical elephant graveyard? happy birthday, kid. enjoy your dead pachyderms cake.

belated Single Awareness Day!

Ah, Valentine’s Day, the most romantic day of the entire year! Love blooms, rose sales perk up, and hymens are torn open like Christmas presents.

In a way, Valentine’s Day is like Christmas for vaginas.

- milkandcookies.com

Top 10 Breakup Songs That Instill An Ironic Sense of Hope

ike ivy, spreading itself across every manner of genre and psyche, the love song veils itself as freaky synecdoche (Newsom), sad, solitary bedroom dance parties (Maricich), or old-fashioned death marches (Nilsson.) But there exists a sub-phenomenon known as the I’m Really Happy We Broke Up Breakup Song, not to be confused with the I’m Pretending I’m Happy But Really I’m Furious And Jealous Breakup Song (Clarkson) or the I’m Really Glad We Were Together Because I Learned A Lot From You Breakup Song (Houston).

This is different. It’s a subcategory in which the nefarious, the ambiguous, the nonchalant, and—most importantly—the major key coincide, collaborate, and make of a sad fact of life some of the most pleasurable creations in popular musical history. You’ll recognize every single song here, but it’s a tiny nuance of, “No way does love lasts forever and it’s kind of more entertaining that it doesn’t” that we’re after.

That said, the taxonomy of breakup is very complex, and there are numerous subcategories beneath the weird one I’ve chosen. Kinda like Grief, but much more arrayed.

sigh!

edit: it’s really strange but it seems that you can only see the photos if the website they came from is open as well.

. . .

dahil mukhang ikinatutuwa ni sigh ang mga karimarimarim na bagay na pinaglalagay ko sa blog na ‘to, heto ang isang post na para sa kanya:

The dog with the largest ears in the world as recognised by the new 2004 Guiness Book of World Records, Mr Jeffries the Bassett Hound, is seen in this handout photo made available Wednesday, Sept. 24, 2003. Jeffries, whose ears measure 29.2 cm (11.5 in) lives with his owner, Phil Jeffries, in West Sussex, England. Mr Jeffries' full name is Knightsfollie Ladiesman and he is the grandson of Biggles, the face of Hush Puppies shoes. His ears are insured for 30,000 pounds ($47,800). (AP Photo/Guinness World Records)

a chimp playing with himself (ahem)

Three-year-old Cambodian boy Oeun Sambat hugs his best friend, a 13.1 feet long female python named Chamreun or 'Lucky' in the village of Sit Tbow on May 18, 2003. Superstitious villagers in the impoverished southeast Asian nation are flocking to see the boy, who they believe has supernatural powers and was probably the son of a dragon in a former life. (Chor Sokunthea/Reuters)

and finally, for naya:

eh, ano pa ba?

and that’s just the animal category. see more (including autopsy photos of famous dead people, very creepy!) at http://weirdpicturearchive.com/

i actually just found that website today, owing to sigh’s comment on an earlier post. who knows if these are actually true? fun, regardless.

finally, since babies are always cute (and if one isn’t, s/he’s likely to NEVER EVER be cute at any point in life:

how do you like your pacifier, kid?

material girl

my little sister (better known to me as ‘yaya’) celebrates her 18th birthday today.

dinner reservations were made at cyma-greenbelt and the whole family was complete. not that everyone’s attendance mattered; as far as we siblings are currently concerned, we are (secretly?) happy to be together.

note on the food: the ribs were not as good as i remembered, the lamb was blah, the greek chicken adobo was dry and tasted weird, the skolatina (molten chocolate cake) took forever to serve and was burnt in some places. service was really, really, really slow. ugh, never again.

after dinner, we walked around the mall area, paying special attention to the newly erected greenbelt 5. more expensive stores for this third world nation. a perpetual bafflement on my part.

yaya was looking at the shoes at people are people and she found a pair she fell in love with. “mia, if i don’t get these shoes tonight, i don’t know what i’ll do with myself.” i rolled my eyes and strutted out in my cheapipay flipflops.

i like nice things. why shouldn’t i? that’s the whole point of nice things: function + aesthetics. if i could afford it, i’d have more shoes and stop wearing (borrowed!) ballet flats (that are falling apart) to client calls. if i could afford it, i’d have more than three pairs of jeans (two very worn) and quit allergy-inducing ukay-ukays.

but i never could stomach the idea of having to pay an arm and both legs for a brand name. i’m in marketing and i realize that branding is an important thing, and that along with the brand comes the promise of high quality craftsmanship.

the sad part is, this promise doesn’t always deliver. yaya is a havaiana fan (teens are stupid and make for the perfect market) but while we were walking home from powerplant, the strap of her month-old pair gave out. and before that, she wore a band-aid where the rubber had rubbd her raw.

the other thing that bothers me is why these damn things have to be ridiculously expensive. i saw a dress in banana republic that i liked, and nearly threw up after seeing the PhP9,000 price tag. as if even half of that amount actually goes to the seamstress who made it. as if sweatshops aren’t a reality.

i like nice things. who wouldn’t? but i can’t stomach having to part with my hard-earned money for something i can’t eat or use forever. i can’t understand why local brands insist on international models, thereby jacking up their prices so that even buying local isn’t cost-effective.

there’s a bloody economic recession. people are losing their jobs. private school students are forced to transfer to already-cramped and ever ill-equipped public schools. there’s even a need for feeding programs and ‘programang pangtawid para sa pamilyang mahirap’ ni pangulong arroyo. but we have vera wang, louis vuitton and gucci in our malls.

tell me, why haven’t i heard of an entrepreneur or business-type person who sells good quality products at fair price? come to think of it, what is fair price? i continue to hope for that balance, of being able to buy quality products at reasonable prices, of capitalism’s rewards being equitably distributed.

god help a dreamer like me. i chanced on being rooted in this fucking country.