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.

all is quiet now.

henrietta bengzon
2 january 2008 – 12 april 2009

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.

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 unpretentious gateway is easy to miss if not for the simple, lighted sign. Worry not about parking; a small lot in front of the house-turned-restaurant offers some space or hand your keys over to the valet.

It’s love at first sight with In-yó Fusion Cuisine’s façade, where the old-time charm blends cozily with various Asian décor. The overall feel is very spa-like and inspires one to relax and look forward to a promising culinary experience.

After being seated by the courteous serving staff, you can choose to order ala carte or enjoy the 7-course degustation. The menu offers east-meets-west dishes concocted by Chef de Cuisine Niño Laus, who specializes in French and Japanese cuisine, and Sous Chef Gary Reyes.

The bread plate features the restaurant’s own foccacia with whipped parsley while your water goblet is filled with refreshing fruit-infused water. Appetizers consist mostly of seafood such as Rockefeller oysters. The salads are a little more exciting, with the Char-grilled US Hanging Tender Steak Salad taking the laurels.

In-yó goes the extra mile in making each dish presentable with artistic plating. A medley of greens and tender steak slices tossed in a citrusy dressing, it has a pleasant zing and hints at the use of cilantro. The color palette and invigorating flavors make it an excellent appetite stimulant.

For entrees, there is currently only one poultry dish being offered by Chef Niño plans to change the menu monthly and to provide a wider variety of options. Worth mentioning are the Coconut Lime Chicken beautifully presented on tanglad skewers, delicate honey-glazed Grilled Salmon on a bed of wasabi mashed potatoes, and Blackened Ahi Tuna with black pepper and thyme crusting.

Pasta choices are also available, nicely paired with a small serving of meat or seafood. The Pesto Cream Pasta comes with Cajun-spiced chicken strips, which could use some more zest but nonetheless complements the al dente noodles and creamy green sauce.

Of course, no meal is ever complete without dessert (and don’t believe your girlfriend when she complains about adding unwanted inches to her waistline). In-yó has a special dessert menu to cater to your sweet tooth: four kinds of crème brûlée, a pannacotta made with real vanilla bean, a mango-based concoction, and two chocolate cakes. Not very fusion cuisine but superbly executed.

For chocolate lovers, the Rich Chocolate Cake with Café Latte Cream may look intimidating at first sight because of the generous cake and mousse layering. It has a rich Belgian chocolate sauce and toasted cashew nut toppings. Chocolate! Chocolate Cake is a moist pudding made from Valrhona chocolate with molten chocolate truffle. If you prefer something light, the Vanilla Pannacotta is just lovely with its delicate flavor and almost creamy texture. The tiny black specks attest to the real vanilla bean that was used.

When every last bit has been eaten, Restaurant Manager Cris Orocio usually offers their guest book and willingly entertains any inquiries. She explains that in-yó is Japanese for yin-yang or balance, and has a double meaning for Filipinos, literally translating to ‘yours’. Fast becoming a popular hangout and dating place among residents and students of nearby schools since its September ’06 opening, In-yó is indeed a place for getting away from the stress of everyday life, for coming together, for just enjoying the comfort that good food has to offer.

Published in Manifesto, Volume 2, Issue 4 (2007)

here’s what someone had to say about it:

there’s a LOT more but there’s only so much that i can stomach. here’s something shocking though, from another wordpress blog:

13 year old boy sleeps with two teachers -at separate times of course!

Because you know, at the same time that’d be just wrong! (right, CNN?)

As CNN reported,  the 13 year old boy started by asking for advice from his teachers, which lead to texting, which lead to sexting, which lead to phone sex that lead to actual sex. It first started with his history teacher (Linda R. Nef, 46)  and then with his math teacher (Valynne Bowers, 39) , the gig was up when he confessed – men, they are always looking for a younger model, neither teacher knew about the other, until the boy confessed to “Mrs”. Bowers about “Mrs.” Nef  - this being Junior High, Bowers confronted Nef “get away from my BOY-friend” –  Mrs. Nef eventually confessed to the police; ratting out not only the other teacher (Bowers), but herself as well. They are both now being charged with: First Degree Felony Charges of Rape and Sodomy.

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.

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.

01. I Wish We Were Broken Up
Dr. Dre – Housewife
2001, as with most Dre material, was laden with money-grub baby-mama misogyny, but it was “Housewife” that exalted this filthy genre to the category of “breakup,” in spite of the fact that the “housewife” in question stands as more of a symbol of a figment of a pain in the ass in the general gestalt of the rich rapper. “Housewife”’s seasoned coke habit, fake pregnancies, and other “broad turned fraud” antics leads Dre to preach to the choir about how “the homies not doing it right…you can’t make a hoe a housewife,” though by god, many will try, he knows. It’s the self-awareness, the willingness to learn from one’s mistakes, the bitterness, and the relatable nature of the phenomenon, as endorsed by pithy contributions from Hittman, Kurupt, and D.O.C., that makes “Housewife” an ironically hopeful breakup song through and through.

Rival Taxonomy: I Digs You, But I’m Not Going To Act Like It Around My Friends…Or On The Radio.

02. I’m Too Young For This
Billy Bragg – A New England
It’s hard to tell whether the loner of punk actually did the breaking up here, or whether it has even been done yet. The 22-year-old specimen harps not only on his girlfriend’s apparent disinterest, but the impending doom he feels for having to tell her he doesn’t want to hang out with her anymore. Youthfulness and sagacity have rarely been as well aligned on a breakup song as when Bragg says, “I don’t feel bad for letting you go, I just feel sad about letting you know.” It’s the happy guitar and lyrical simplicity that seal the deal, compounding meaning in a cliché as old as time.

See Also: You Actually Mean A Lot To Me, But I Can’t Take All Your Drama.

03. The Label Wanted Us To Write A Hit
Radiohead – High and Dry
Thom Yorke has often expressed his willingness to erase “High and Dry” from his band’s grand oeuvre, but there’s no sense in speculating that the song lacks lyrical integrity in spite of its proto-Coldplay qualities. Perhaps, still, it’s a momentary breakup of the band with its vision. “H&D” is not actually about a woman, or a breakup, but it rivals “Thinking About You” as a yearning exposé of a person over which the singer has little control, and fears losing. Judgments creep in (“You’d kill yourself for recognition / Kill yourself to never ever stop / You broke another mirror / You’re turning into something you are not,” but that simple, aching chorus is, enfin, Yorke declaring how much he misses “the real you” of the song’s subject.

See Also: I Feel Like I’ve Already Lost You.

04. Nightclub as Closure
Cher – Believe
When the plastic surgery victim / potential model for weird-looking Sims characters Cher came out with one of the longest-standing number one hits in the history of British music, it was hard not to wiggle to it just a little. Identity crisis #36 saw a handful-of-hits wonder reinventing herself as a one-hit dance floor wonder, complete with a video that took place in a club, in which Cher herself was in some sort of glass cage, watching young people stare at each other through strobe lights. The message, “Do you believe in life after love?” was admittedly poignant (and prescient), especially when paired with the melody’s successful bastardizing of a genre that had already learned to dilute itself enough to be swallowed by FM.

See Also: My Overplayed Anthemic Teen Remedy Gave Me Life After Career Death.

05. See You After Rehab, When Our Relationship Will Be Dramatically Different, Possibly Boring
Verve – Drugs Don’t Work
No one knows entirely what this song is about, but the collective public understanding of the Verve’s gut-wrenching masterpiece for all intents and purposes involves a relationship marred by substance abuse that results in, if not separation physically, at the very least a marked distancing from the signs and symbols of the couple’s early whirlwind days, such as “my old street” and “your ear,” which Ashcroft promises he will “sing in” “again” if the lady in question so desires. Their separation is at the heart of the song, and a willingness to admit it’s all for the best is communicated through major-to-minor shifts and a darn triumphant (fine, bittersweet) chorus. “But I know I’ll see your face again” is laden with the sense that while things will never be the same again, at least they’ll be again.

Other Possible Reading: The Antidepressants Don’t Work.

06. You’re A Wild Bird And I Can’t Tame You
Doves – There Goes the Fear
Pre-“O.C.,” the voices on campuses everywhere heralded the British group Doves as one of the big indie bands of the future, possibly sealing their fate as a mostly neglected, kinda slumping indie band of the present. “There Goes the Fear,” a six-plus-minute farewell ode, used cheerful, sped-up, manipulated guitar loops and a romantic hook, “Close your brown eyes / And lay down next to me / Close your eyes, lay down / ‘Cos there goes the fear / Let it go,” in which Jimi Goodwin became the most trustworthy fantasy boyfriend in indie rock. It is unclear whether the “fear” in question is actually “coming” or “going,” but the girl in question is most definitely going, which Jimi is OK with in the end: “Think of me when you close your eyes / But don’t look back when you break all ties.” Strong man.

See Also: My Sensitivity Will Bring You Back, Dammit.

07. I’m A Rolling Stone; You Don’t Care About Me Anyway
Bob Dylan – Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right
The king of caring wrote one of his sweetest guitar ditties about a woman who suffered from, well, not liking him very much. The complex, winding guitar riff looped ad infinitum serves as the backdrop to Dylan’s rant, which can essentially be summarized by the words, “It’s too late,” but an awful lot more poetical: not only is there a fundamental rift between the two people, but, he fatefully supposes, there always will be: “And it ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe / That light I never knowed / An’ it ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe / I’m on the dark side of the road.” The roaming transience of this young man is emphasized for probably the thousandth time in his musical career, serving up one more episode in the singer’s ambulation through geographies and romances.

Take Note: The Antidote To Heartbreak Is, Natch, Skipping Town.

08. I Couldn’t Be Myself Around You
Tori Amos – Tear in Your Hand
Young Tori, on her breakthrough second album, wrote “everyone’s favorite” in reference to what I can only assume was a foolish young man who enjoyed scoffing at her youthful, breezily destructive tastes. With the line, “I can’t believe you’re leaving because me and Charles Manson like the same ice-cream,” we can only speculate that irrelevant and weird (metaphorical) quibbles destroyed this nebulous relationship, causing Tori to speculate that it was not the ice-cream, but “that girl” that ended the romance, and that “there’s pieces of me you’ve never seen, I think [that girl]’s just pieces of me you’ve never seen.” There’s a gleefulness behind this song’s sad state of affairs—a lovely major key that instills optimism in spite of the line “You don’t know how much power you have with that tear in your hand.”

See Also: I Let Down My Guard And I’m Ashamed of It.

09. You’re Gonna End Up With the Backup Dancer
Justin Timberlake – Cry Me a River
The fruits of early Timberlake/land labor produced this infamous Spears reference, complete with a video featuring a Britney look-alike in a now unfashionable newsboy hat. Timbaland’s trademark organic sound effects, synths, and slaps catapulted Timberlake’s music in spite of the feather-hearted libretto of this song: “You don’t know all the ways that I loved you.” The song does not succeed as a closure only because Timberlake still, four years later, writes songs about Britney Spears that say pretty much exactly the same thing. But at the time, this addictive pop sianara was a revolutionary, self-referential, premonitory piece of candy with a flavor lasted months (nay, years).

Works Well With: You’ll Get What’s Coming To You, And He’ll Leave Too, AKA “What Goes Around…Comes Around.” Now Playing.

10. It’s Not Over Yet
D’Angelo – One Mo’ Gin
The irony is in the fact that they’ll probably hook up again; the hope is in Angelo’s assumption that they will hook up again, and the breakup factor is downright negligible, because this is one of the sexiest sex songs ever written. The king of groin overexposure here laments about “the precious times we had” to the happy harmonies of a bump-and-grind bass and bubbling keyboard, disclaims “I know you got someone, I got somebody too,” but emphasizes that “you could call me girl when things change.” He suggests that in the meantime he will, in light of the sensual music herein—forget the lyrics—probably fantasize about this peerless ex while in bed with his “somebody too.” Classique.

See Also: This Girl’s Got Nothing On You, Girl.

By: Liz Colville
Published on: 2007-02-02

http://www.stylusmagazine.com/articles/staff_top_10/top-10-breakup-songs-that-instill-an-ironic-sense-of-hope.htm

. . .

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?

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.