Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Make Your Mama Proud

kay4
Mothers (and fathers) are always proud of their kids. Let them be…

How time flies… Yesterday you were just a tot struggling to toddle steadily. Yesterday you were a pre-schooler kid wanting everybody’s attention. Yesterday you were a sixth-grader beaming with your achievements…


kay4
Now, you are a budding beauty silently walking tall. Please understand the pride that I cannot help but show. Please understand that I look at you as unbelievably pretty and that you make you Mama proud.


(Kay was chosen to be the model for their graduation picture. Digiprints Designs Corporation won the bid.)

Make Your Mama Proud

kay4
Mothers (and fathers) are always proud of their kids. Let them be…

How time flies… Yesterday you were just a tot struggling to toddle steadily. Yesterday you were a pre-schooler kid wanting everybody’s attention. Yesterday you were a sixth-grader beaming with your achievements…


kay4
Now, you are a budding beauty silently walking tall. Please understand the pride that I cannot help but show. Please understand that I look at you as unbelievably pretty and that you make you Mama proud.


(Kay was chosen to be the model for their graduation picture. Digiprints Designs Corporation won the bid.)

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Will You Spare a Rod?

punish

(photo from Microsoft Encarta Reference Library 2004)
Disciplining a child comes in many forms. Parental strategies to discipline a child affect a child’s well-being – that we should bear in our minds.

Not every parent agrees using force as disciplinary approach. Spanking, or "punishing with a rod" (figuratively speaking), is a big no-no to some. Such approach is disgraceful, upsetting or unnecessary. But children grow and develop their sense of self. They start to negotiate, compromise, resist and assert what they want. And because of the emotional attachment of children to their parents, they use this to demand more than what is needed. As children grow, the folly within grows, too, knowing that their parents cannot say ‘no’ to their wishes. They learn to be manipulative, too.

Children’s early personality growth varies, too, depending on their relationship with their parents or whoever is the caregiver, depending on the values imbued in them, or depending on the environ where they participate. In any case, children have the tendency to mess up the favor and free will afforded to them. Being still very young is one main reason.

"Punishing with a rod" does not necessarily mean that parents should beat their children black-and-blue. Using force, like a light slap or a few slaps on the buttocks, to communicate a parent’s authority can do. Serious physical punishment like making them kneel on grains or salt will make them angry and frustrated, especially when they are driven to do such acts just because of petty misdeeds.

Disciplining a young child can be very frustrating at times especially if the child is strong-willed. Our emotions should not overwhelm reason that the child is still immature to understand fully. We should take a deep breath, or count to ten, or drink a glass of water before exercising our power and authority. The child may comply when serious physical punishment is applied but can become angry inside and be defiant in the absence of the parent.

Some helpful tips for parents:*
  • emphasize firm and consistent expectations and rationale
  • listen receptively to the child’s views
  • foster the child’s cooperation and a more harmonious parent-child relationship

*Microsoft Encarta Reference Libraryy 2004

Now, will you spare a rod and bear the little child's folly?

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

You Don't Know What You're Saying

This is a reiteration.

Would you mind shutting up if you see me bloated after not seeing each other for months, or years? Would you mind telling me that I look nice or radiant (even without the words ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’)? After all, I am happy and that probably shows. Would you mind telling me that you miss me because it is such a long time we have not seen each other?

Would you want to receive the same remark or worse, a shoddier salutation that your dress does not fit your swollen belly? Or better, would you want to hear that your fashion taste is very poor? Or even better, you look more like a coke in can?

I had enough of these people. How could some people greet you in such a nasty way when they look worse than you, or shabbier than anyone else? How could words blurt out from their vile mouths when they are in a way oozing with plainness or a run-of-the-mill stance?

I could have greeted her with “Your hairdo fits you!” just to make her feel good all throughout the day. But I was not able to do so. Her unnecessary remarks just dampened the warmth.

“You don’t know what you’re saying!” shouted my mind. I would want to do the same but that would not be me. “Civility costs nothing and buys everything.”* Besides, I should have accepted the fact that she is not alone. A lot of people do not know what they are saying.

*Mary Wortley Montagu (1689 - 1762)
British writer.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

What is Food to One Man is Bitter Poison to Others*

*Lucretius (94? BC - 55? BC)
The taste of tuyo and sinangag for breakfasts is always heavenly to me, coupled with white vinegar (with minced garlic and a little salt). I could also put some vinegar on the fried egg cooked sunny side up. Weird? Nah. As I have mentioned, it is heavenly. It is the opposite of hubby’s and kid’s taste for food during breakfasts. They like sauteed corned beef and fried egg more. There were times separate viands were prepared on breakfasts just to give in to each other whims.

While some deprived families dream of having this bounty for breakfast, I (or we) sometimes dream of a hotel’s luxurious service. At this point, it is me (us) who dream. How lucky some people are, we would think aloud. And who knows if those people at times get tired of the lavishness, and the taste of cured ham is bitter (not better) than fried tuyo?

You see we always compare. We either think we are superior to the others, or inferior at times. We think we are prettier, or more handsome, or more intelligent, or more talented, or richer, etc, etc. When we tend to be negative, we think we are uglier, or more stupid, or with only a few talents, or poorer, etc, etc. Both ways does not help.

Clinging to this bad habit of never-ending comparison of one’s self to others creates a monster in us. We end up in envy or jealousy. We end up hating others. We do unreasonable or inhumane things that hurt or harm. Or we end up believing we are the best, that nobody can beat us. We end up lonely and not satisfied.

I know some people who have this demanding attitude because of feeling that others are always on the lead or that they are better or at a higher level in life. With this, they demand, directly or indirectly, that they have to be given an extra ALWAYS because others are receiving more. They have to be understood though they are unbelievably detestable. They have to be special always because they are lacking in life. Funny? They exist, believe me.

Comparison is not bad if intended for a worthy cause. If it is for self-assessment to better one’s self, compare. If it is for progress or improvement, compare. "We should never compare ourselves to others. We may end up believing that we are better or lesser than the others. In either case, we are wrong," goes one text message.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Bagong Hairdo

Matagal nang umuungot si Kay na magpagupit ng buhok. Ayaw ko noong pumayag dahil nanghihinayang ako na paiksiin ang mahaba niyang buhok. Isa pa, baka mahirapang magpahaba uli.


Pinayagan ko na rin sa wakas (tutal siya naman daw ang magbabayad ha ha ha). ‘Layered’ ang buhok niya ngayon at hanggang balikat na lang. Hindi naman kataasan ang layers. Mabuti din iyon para hindi mahirap pahabain kung magdesisyon na siyang pahabain. Bumagay naman sa kanya. Sabagay, bumabagay naman ang halos lahat ng gupit sa kanya dahil sa hugis ng mukha niya.


Noong maliit si Kay, sobrang bagsak ang buhok niya at nadudulas ang mga ipit. Hindi itim ang kulay. Parang matingkad na moreno ang kulay. Nagtaka ako na nang siya ay papunta na sa pagkadalaginding, nawala ang pagkabagsak at parang may mga kulot sa hairline. Nalaman ko na ito pala ay depende sa polikulo ng buhok (hair follicle). Ang mga polikulo ng mga Afrikano ay may baluktot (curved) na polikulo kaya sila ay kulot. Ang kanilang buhok ay may patag (flat o tapelike) na bahaging paputol (cross section). Ang buhok ng mga Tsino o Hapon ay tuwid, at halos itim lahat. Ito ay tumubo sa tuwid na poliuko na may bilog na bahaging paputol. Ang mga buhok ng mga taga Europe ay maraming alon, at may tendesiyang kumulot. Ito ay may bilohabang bahaging paputol. Ang tipo ng polikulo ang nagsasabi ng mga katangian ng buhok. Ang mga ito rin ay namamana.


Katulad ko rin si Kay na may alon ang ibang parte ng buhok.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Resulta ng Unang Markahan

Isang gabi ngayong linggong ito, sinalubong ako ni Daryl at nagsabing may ipapakita raw siya sa akin. Sa una ay hindi ko napansin na ang grado niya sa asignaturang Science ang pinakamababa. Ito ang isa sa paborito niya.


Hindi naman talaga mababa ang grado sa Science pero malayo siya sa mga grado ng ibang asignatura. Hindi halos magkakalayo ang lahat maliban sa Science. "Sayang naman, ‘no? Teka nga pala, bakit ito ang resulta sa Science? Di ba ito ang paborito mo?" Huminga nang malalim si Daryl sabay sabing, "Ganito kasi ang istorya nun, Ma…"


Sa mas maikling kwento, hindi pala siya nakapagpasa ng proyekto. Ang dahilan, nagloloko raw ang PC namin noong panahong iyon. "Huwag mo namang ibigay na rason iyon, anak. Maraming paraan kung nagsabi ka lang sa akin at kung talagang nag-abala ka para doon."


Nanghinayang din siya at 86 lamang ang grado niya sa Science. Alam din niya na ang proyekto niya ay makakadagdag pa ng puntos. Habang ako ay nagsesermon pero hindi naman talaga ako galit, tumitig sa akin si Daryl at tinanong ko kung bakit. Tinatantiya pala niya kung galit ako.


Sino ba naman ang magagalit sa gradong 86 na siyang pinakamababa? Pero hindi ko rin palalagpasin ang pagkakataon na ituro sa kanya ang nararapat – ang maging responsible. Pero sabagay, paminsan-minsan ay kailangan niyang makita ang resulta ng pagpapabaya. Mas nararamdaman kasi iyon pag nararanasan.

Zani Ara fan’s moss ran aria…

O, Draconian devil!
O, lame saint!

Talk about anagrams. Blame Dan Brown’s fiction – The Da Vinci Code.

I was challenged by that word game. The title above was a phrase that contains my full name including my middle initial. Tough one. I had another but it was more a negative than a positive phrase. I discarded it.

The first word zani is zany in its true form. It is a misnomer. I opted to use it because no letter y is available in my name. Ara here does not pertain to Ara Mina. I am not a fan of hers. Ara here signifies a group of stars. I love stars and everything in the sky – even the tsunami that hovers in it.

Moss here pertains to turf and aria symbolizes the pop song, which is one type of arias.

More or less, you can derive what the above phrase means. It intends to picture the times when our family (Papsie’s) got addicted once to singing videoke songs, most of which were pop songs. Whenever there were visitors, we would always prepare the equipment and let them enjoy singing.

I remember one of my birthday celebrations where the only visitors were my work peers. We only served beer that time. One of them, Gerry, would not allow anybody to have the mike once he started singing. Glo (and the others) was so irritated that she really went her way pulling the mike out of his grasp. But Gerry was not persuaded. It was when Papsie shouted “O, si Gerry naman ang kakanta! Pakantahin niyo naman si Gerry!” (“Let Gerry sing! Let him sing!”) Gerry was like awakened from sleep then grinned almost laughing, “Glo, here is the mike.” Everybody laughed. (Tinablan din.)

Gerry and his family are currently based in Saudi Arabia. I haven’t heard news about him for quite some time.

So… why don’t you try the game? It would be fun if you would share me the phrase that was created from your name.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end…

Have you ever felt that nothing different ever happens? You wake up, do the usual things after waking up, go to work, do the usual things at the work place, then you go home afterwards, or after you’ve rendered overtime. The same cycle that varies only during weekends, where weekends are also a repetition of the other weekends.

Such is the monotony of life. This is why respites are a necessity – escapes from the usual routines.

When I get bored at work, I take a deep breath then stop from what I am doing, and do the rounds. I try to kill time before it kills me. Or I sing in the middle of a pile of work to break the nagging silence in my room, or play the MP3 and sing along. I don’t care if I get off tuned. Nobody’s there to judge if I sang according to key.

The best way for me to stop this languor for a few moments is to talk idly, and I say idly, with my friends – anything goes – from jokes, green jokes, facts of life, people, actors, actresses, bosses, pet peeves, etc. And how I love those 15-minute breaks, really! And I love the extension even more, thanks for some leniency.

Some would even think, which I do at times, that there must be an occasional anomaly to break the monotony. Not that you do break in a bank to rob, or force somebody into sex, or engulf yourself with illegal substances. Just the kind that is very different from the typical sequence but still reasonable and humane.

And I wonder would there be any real relief from this tiresome iteration?

Don’t mind me, I am just bored to some extent for the moment…

Sunday, September 11, 2005

First Times

girl kiss

First times always bring the excitement, feelings of awe, or delight. On some circumstances, it brings shock, pain, or a frantic feeling, depending on what an event generates, or what the event or situation is.

I was amazed to see a television for the first time in the middle of the space in front of the wide stairs to the second floor of our elementary school. Coming from a poor family, I was not aware of that "little box" where you can see little people talking. Upon seeing the little people, I became glued to the television set (the name of which I learned later from a teacher) and stand there for minutes to listen to the exchange of words. I excitedly related it to my parents when I came home.

Such awe was replaced by the much other awe brought about by the scantiness of our life. Then a weird feeling got me restless when I reached fifth grade. It was the feeling when a good looking, dark skinned sixth grader asked to join our game of habulan. It was the first time I felt a warm rush inside me and it felt like something inside would explode each time he joined the game. I was in high school when I learned that the feeling was called "crush" on somebody. I had many crushes after that.

The hours and circumstances of my first times created significance in my life. The time I first received medals in high school, the time I first received a trophy in a national competition, the first time I got a group of true friends, the first time Papa got very ill and could not afford to work, the first time I fell in love, the time I first laid my eyes on my own flesh and blood – all these created me. What I am now was brought significantly by these first times.

First times are almost equal to the feeling of uncertainty – you don’t know what to do. In retrospect, I value them so much. They are not entirely happy events. They also include those that brought me pain, tears, or hatred. But they all made me for what I am today.

When was the last time you had your first time?

First Times

girl kiss

First times always bring the excitement, feelings of awe, or delight. On some circumstances, it brings shock, pain, or a frantic feeling, depending on what an event generates, or what the event or situation is.

I was amazed to see a television for the first time in the middle of the space in front of the wide stairs to the second floor of our elementary school. Coming from a poor family, I was not aware of that "little box" where you can see little people talking. Upon seeing the little people, I became glued to the television set (the name of which I learned later from a teacher) and stand there for minutes to listen to the exchange of words. I excitedly related it to my parents when I came home.

Such awe was replaced by the much other awe brought about by the scantiness of our life. Then a weird feeling got me restless when I reached fifth grade. It was the feeling when a good looking, dark skinned sixth grader asked to join our game of habulan. It was the first time I felt a warm rush inside me and it felt like something inside would explode each time he joined the game. I was in high school when I learned that the feeling was called "crush" on somebody. I had many crushes after that.

The hours and circumstances of my first times created significance in my life. The time I first received medals in high school, the time I first received a trophy in a national competition, the first time I got a group of true friends, the first time Papa got very ill and could not afford to work, the first time I fell in love, the time I first laid my eyes on my own flesh and blood – all these created me. What I am now was brought significantly by these first times.

First times are almost equal to the feeling of uncertainty – you don’t know what to do. In retrospect, I value them so much. They are not entirely happy events. They also include those that brought me pain, tears, or hatred. But they all made me for what I am today.

When was the last time you had your first time?

Friday, September 9, 2005

Inevitable

She walked slowly along that busy road, grey hair, unkempt but kept by a seemingly brittle synthetic band, adorns her head bent because of weariness or maybe hopelessness. Everything is gray, including her striped blouse and pants just below the knee. Or
ow
was it because she looked gray, too? Five people passed over the limp woman who was taking every step seriously (or with difficulty). Not one spent time to glance. I was behind her and I saw the gloom but did not see the face. I moved past her but did not look at her, too, trying to avoid seeing the misery.

He wanted to belong. He loves to share his collection of green jokes. He appears jolly but the deep lines on his face share the
ow
deep scars in him. Not everybody enjoys his presence. The disgusting smell of his aged body and bad breath brought by poor hygiene and neglect ruins anybody’s desire to exchange intelligent views with him. My disgust most of the time is superseded by pity.

I know not every aged man or woman experiences such sad fates. Not every golden ager is being disliked, ignored or hated. Lucky them. But the later life is inevitable. This is the time when one cannot even smell his own smell, or cannot even flush the toilet after use, or cannot even comb her hair to make it presentable. This is the time where one hates to take a bath every day, or change his undies before going to bed, or brush her teeth or denture three times a day.

Maybe instead of laughing at their limitations, we take time to reflect thinking that one day we will belong to that group of seniors. One day we could be among them – adored or disliked, revered or despised. Do we laugh with the others, too, as they laugh at us; not aware we are the objects of their ridicule?

A sixty four thousand dollar question – are we ready to become old?

Tuesday, September 6, 2005

You've Got a Way

In the middle of everything when there's no time to scribble, allow me to post a song for Dan...

DAN

by SHANIA TWAIN

You've got a way with me
Somehow you got me to believe
In everything that I could be
I've gotta say--you really got a way

You've got a way it seems
You gave me faith to find my dreams
You'll never know just what that means
Can't you see... you got a way with me

CHORUS:
It's in the way you want me
It's in the way you hold me
The way you show me just what love's made of
It's in the way we make love

You've got a way with words
You get me smiling even when it hurts
There's no way to measure what your love is worth
I can't believe the way you get through to me

(CHORUS)BRIDGE:
Oh, how I adore you
Like no one before you
I love you just the way you are

(CHORUS)It's just the way you are

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Click here to learn the latest about SHANIA TWAIN:

ST

Sunday, September 4, 2005

LET IT BE KNOWN...

Had a great time with him
daryl1
yesterday. He was so excited riding the bus with me. He got even excited when he learned that after I pay the bills we will go to National Bookstore and skim the books that would interest us. It is that simple to please my son, no expensive fancy things – just a book that will make his day. He was so fascinated with the LOTR books and movies.

When we were in the bus, he was talking about how pessimistic he gets sometimes. Then I told him it is not good, that would not help him succeed.
daryl2
I added that it was just like learning to ride the bike, it was always hard at first. "And now, look at me, I still don’t know how to ride a bike!" He laughed.

Then he asked me, "Ma, what do you think would have happened, if Eve did not eat the fruit of knowledge and wisdom? We might still be wandering this earth naked, don’t you think?"

"Well, I think there’s always the pros and cons of it. We might not have this ‘technology and everything’. We might have not improved. Though the world may not be as chaotic as it is now." I responded.

Truthfully, I enjoy every bit of discussion with Daryl. He tries to converse in the English language when there is a discussion. I am really amazed at his ideas. Not that he is my son. But for a 12 year old going to 13, he is really something.

Today he turns 13, and let it be known that I LOVE THIS GROWING BOY VERY MUCH. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON!
daryl2

He had his thoughts written being 13. Please visit My Mind As It Is. Even non-blogger members can make comments now unlike before where the settings were set to blogger members only.


greetings

Thursday, September 1, 2005

Tales About the 'Drunken Masters'

Drunken Master 1

The Happy Drinker. When he gets drunk, he gets so noisy, shouting his lungs out. Overexcited, he makes fun of everything and everyone. He is the star of the show, shouting his mouth off. He is wacky but fun to be with. Dances sometimes, dirty dancing to boot, or sings out of tune.

Drunken Master 2

The Silent One. Smiles. Gulps. Smiles. Gulp. Few words. He drinks not making a sound. Laughs at a joke but seldom remarks. He just lets the alcoholic beverage seep in. He enjoys the sound, the music, and the chatter around him, and appears sober. You cannot tell if he’s intoxicated already.

Drunken Master 3

The Drama King. He blurts out his grudges, and his long hidden resentments to a particular person, sometimes to someone who is among his drinking buddies. When drunk, he is usually loud. He has a foul mouth – the type who gets easily irritated when somebody does not agree with what he says then takes it personally.

Drunken Master 4

The Intellectual. He is the type who wants to discuss politics, and other cracking ideas. He is also a silent drinker. Too serious about everything, he calculates every word his drinking buddies utter.

Drunken Master 5

The Windbag. When alcohol sets in his system, he will start telling stories about his exemplary deeds. Only God knows if they are true. Nothing is above his achievements. No one is better. He usually monopolizes the exchange of boasts.

Drunken Master 6

The Gladiator. After several gulps or when intoxicated, he starts to look for a brawl. He would start throwing off vindictive words against one or two drinking buddies. Most of the time, this fight starts only from petty disagreements.

Drunken Master 7

The Sleep Rough Drunk. All he does, when tanked up, is sleep – on the bench, in a corner, or while sitting head down and drooling. You can also see him at one corner of the street, or in a vacant lot, or inside a tricycle, or on a board a passenger jeep parked on a street.

Drunken Master 8

The Confused. Alcohol takes over his sanity. He is not aware of what he is doing. He pisses on the sink, or even opens a closet and pisses there with gusto. Or you might find him sitting on one of the corners of the bedroom to defecate. Or you might find him dishing out all his money to his drinking buddies, or order food and drinks with sky as the limit.

Drunken Master 9

The Exhibitionist. A psycho who gets drunk, he unzips the zipper to show what he got. Talks nasty, too.

Drunken Master 10

The ‘Romeo’. When alcohol slowly starts to enter his consciousness, he desires the company of women. He is the type who would persuade his drinking buddies to leave a party and continue the drinking bout in a beerhouse, or a beer garden. He woos beerhouse girls, or the GROs, and convinces the girl to complete the night with him.

-------

I remember when I first tasted Fundador, it was like an admiration to the taste. "Swabe," as they say. Because I enjoyed the taste, I got drunk and decided to go to bed. When I was in the room, I stumbled to the bed. While on the bed, I rolled laughing each time I roll. I know what was happening (and can still remember it vividly). Only that, I cannot control myself from laughing. I thought I would never stop. It was like a button was switched on to make me laugh and would not stop when not switched off. Then it stopped. I don’t remember how long that laughing hysteria lasted out but it stopped. And I went downstairs to the kitchen sink and vomited a lot. I was unclogging the drain with my finger, and was not aware that my son was there, watching me.

I was very embarrassed when he narrated all that he had witnessed. I cannot recall some of the things he told me that I did. I never got THAT drunk from then on.