At the Table, or in the Bed

Warning: This contains subject matter that parents may find unsuitable for younger children to read.

I read from a tabloid newspaper (which I forgot the name) that men are very sensitive about sexual issues, even in the privacy of a room with their mate. A woman partner cannot casually tell her partner that he could not bring her to orgasm, or that he should do this instead of that, or simply, that he should take a bath before the bout.

Discrepant sexual desires^a can also be one cause of the decline in sexual interest and behavior. When each of the partners focuses on different intents during the course, the act of love will not succeed, or will succeed involuntarily. Of course there are other causes why there is decline in sexual interest – physical changes, illness, production of estrogen or testosterone, emotional upheavals, etc. But given a situation which is almost as perfect, partners should learn to know each other’s desires.

It is not easy for women to convey the message that her partner failed to bring her to climax, or that she is not satisfied the way her partner is doing the act, or that the whole process is boring. Even without the knowledge that men are so touchy about this subject, women seem to know that it is but wrong to bluntly express about or openly address the issue.

The article in the tabloid tells of the many ways how women can convey the message to their partner. What is interesting is that men if guided or lead by their women partner can give not only enough but greater than what women expect. Words, actually, are not necessary to lead men to do exactly what women want.

At the table, or in the bed, what exactly gives pleasure to men? But it is important that they know that women enjoy the act as men do, at any given time, at the exact spot.

^a refers to a condition in which partners have considerably different levels of sexual interest. (Sexual Dysfunctions, Human Sexuality, Microsoft Encarta Reference Library 2004.)

Kawalan ng Kaalaman

larawan mula sa Illinois Raptor Center

Kahawig ng barn owl na dinala

Noong Sabado, dumating ang dalawang kaibigan ni Papsie galing sa isang lalawigan. Ang nakakagulat e me dala silang kwago. Bali ang pakpak nito at me sugat sa paa. Nang magising si Kay at si Daryl mula sa pagkakatulog noong hapon ay natuwa sila nang makita ang kwago. Pero dagli ring napalitan ng lungkot ang saya nang malamang sugatan ang kwago.

Ayon kay Daryl, isa iyong barn owl. Sa pagkainis sa mga walang basehang kwentuhan na hindi raw iyon kwago, at sa kawalan ng kaalaman ng mga tao tungkol sa kung ano ang gagawin kung me nakitang ganitong uri ng ibon o nilalang umakyat tuloy si Daryl sa kanyang kwarto. Paano naman daw e me nagsabi pang hindi raw iyon kwago kundi isang lawin.

Nakita ko ang kwago sa kaawa-awang kalagayan. Bali nga ang pakpak at me sugat sa paa. Hindi rin ayos ang ginawa ng mga kaibigan ni Papsie sa pagkuha rito. Wala kasi sa kanilang dalawa ang may intensyon na alagaan ang kwagong kanilang nakuha.

Sinabi sa akin ni Daryl na dapat dinadala ang mga ganoong hayop sa Wild Life Reserve o sa DENR. Hindi ko rin alam kung ano ang dapat gawin kaya wala akong masabi. Pero ang dalhin ang kwago sa DENR e mas pabor ako. Kahapon nalaman ko na dinala na pala ng kaibigang kagawad ng barangay sa DENR ang kwago na pinabayaan na ng dalawang unang nakakuha.

Sighed and looked, and sighed again...

- John Dryden (1631 - 1700English poet, playwright, and literary critic.

Often we feel envy towards people who has success, good fortune, superior qualities, or countless possessions.

It is envy that drives the unintelligent humans to group against an intelligent one. Fanning the flames, they would recruit other unintelligent beings as scheming as them to plot against the intelligent one. Then making it more sinister, they even go to levels of character assassination, backbiting, or shares of cold shoulders.

It is envy that forces one to praise good-looking creatures then nitpicks when they leave. In the midst of admirers, a jealous creature envenoms them with seemingly concerned warnings about the good-looking creature. A jealous creature could not find something nice about a good-looking creature instead finds flaws that can be hurled to the admirers making the wonders of awe turn into disenchantment.

Most of the time, the envious ones refuse to look at a beauty, or accept a genius. As if their disapproval matters, as if it makes them better than the other or higher than the other.

Is this feeling of envy natural? It is. But one can be envious without hurting others. It is a natural emotion to want what others have. It is but natural to desire. Nevertheless, it isn’t natural to inflict pain or agony to others because you wanted also what they abundantly have but couldn’t have.

Someone said it is better envied than pitied. True. But envy could kill. Pity couldn't.

Tears in His Eyes

Before he dared reading the formal composition Kay wrote in one of their activities in English, he paused and took a deep breath, and like plunging into the depths, he started reading...

The Santa Claus in My Life

'Generoso' is a friend to everyone and a great father to his family. He has the tummy and the mustache (but not beard). He's the Santa Claus I've known.

I never believed there was a man riding in a sleigh run by twelve reindeers going down chimneys and giving gifts to good children from his bottomless sack. Santa Claus and his reindeers are fiction but the goodness of his heart, the gentle features he has and the laughter most uniquely his are somethings I see in someone special to me.

My Santa Claus was never fiction. In fact, he's always beside me. He has gentle eyes and a hug that I always long for. And oh! That laughter... it's very infectious! Instead of a "Ho, ho, ho!", Generoso's laughter is more like a "Hi, hi, hi!"

He's also Superman. When I'm in school and not feeling well I always call him up and ask if he could fetch me. He would not waste a moment. He'll stop whatever he's doing and come to my rescue. And after saving me, he never forgets to ask if I'm hungry.

'Generoso' is a friend to everybody. He always gets the party started. I always see him frantically cooking up 'pulutan' for his friends and setting up the place for their 'inuman'. After everything, he's also the one to clean up what was left behind.

He is the most responsible guy in the world. Despite of him being disabled, he manages to do his duties. He overcomes his disability by helping out in the legal matters of my grandmother's land and houses for rent.

I've realized that Santa Claus, Superman and Joker could be in one man, my father. Christmas is not Christmas at all without his cooking, his hilarity, his exhaustion and his love. I can't describe how much he means to me. What I am today is what he and my mother molded me into. I am very grateful for his every effort in teaching me and nurturing me.

Danilo "Generoso" G. A********, my father and I am proud of him, is Santa Claus not only to me but to his loved ones.

I know this is just a simple theme but it surely made his heart swell and his tears run secretly. I kidded, "Uy, si Papa, umiiyak na tulo uhog pa!" (Uy, Papa's can't help himself from crying, and from the ooze!") Trying to compose himself, he retaliated, "Kay, sa susunod, si Mama naman ang gawan mo ng ganyan! Puro na lang ako." (Kay, next time write something for your mother. You always write about me.) He hugged me, and I know he is filled with joy but he can't hide the tears.

Amazing!

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosnt mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers be. The rset can be a taotl mses if you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervery lteter by istlef but the word as a wlohe.

Kay sent this text message to me and I can't almost believe I understood the whole paragraph. This is totally amazing! Now it's your turn.

Bear and Forbear

Loving husbands are always misjudged as the types that are ruled by their wives (under the saya, in colloquial terms). Those who can’t say no to the wives’ wishes are more often than not branded as that. Suspicions are made stronger when a husband often declines invites to join drinks or paint the town red causing them to think that the wife holds sway and has the say. In a drinking session, for example, a man is taunted simply by getting up immediately when his wife hollers.

I think it is not fair to misconstrue a husband who lovingly gives in to his wife’s wishes as under the saya. It is quite becoming a norm, particularly in the Philippines, that buddies would pressure a groupmate by taunts like under the saya, or walang buto, to force one to join gimmicks. These circumstances often lead to a couple’s misunderstandings and fights, and worse, separation.

But are there really husbands ruled by their wives? There are. How a person can identify one is easy. I have the following notes from Rules for Husbands and Wives by Mathew Carey:

She (a good wife) will never attempt to rule, or appear to rule her husband. Such conduct degrades husbands—and wives always partake largely of the degradation of their husbands.

She (a good wife) will avoid all altercations orarguments leading to ill-humour—and more especiallybefore company.

When a wife dominates, it is easily seen as ruling her husband. She commands and forgets her position as wife who should comply with her husband’s wishes. She shouts at him in front of his comrades and does not lower her voice in an argument. She does not have respect for her husband at all.

And if a husband lets this happen it is just to say he is ruled by his wife. He is under the saya. Love is not enough reason to let his partner treat him as inferior, not as an equal. More so, it should be the reason why he should demand respect, and sort out the situation.

As Mathew Carey puts it across:

Should differences arise between husband and wife, the contest ought to be, not who will display the most spirit, but who will make the first advances. There is scarcely a more prolific source of unhappiness in the married state, than this "spirit," the legitimate offspring of pride and want of feeling.

Perhaps the whole art of happiness in the married state, might be compressed into these two maxims—“Bear and forbear”—and “let the husband treat his wife, and the wife treat her husband with as much respect and attention, as he would a strange lady, and she a strange gentleman." And surely this is not an extravagant requisition.

Moving on...

I have to do this. It is not easy. Actually it is a hard task. Taxing really. But I have to decide. And I have decided.

I am moving from here to there.

It is a fantastic experience to be in a new home! See you all!

Moving on...

I have to do this. It is not easy. Actually it is a hard task. Taxing really. But I have to decide. And I have decided.

I am moving from here to there.

It is a fantastic experience to be in a new home! See you all!

In a New Home

At last, here I am! All the while I was thinking it would be so difficult. It is taxing really. But I discovered that it is not really hard to acclimatize myself to this fantastic new home for my blog. Wow! I am really excited.

So, if you want to move from there to here. C'mon, do it NOW, as in now!

To Cling to, or to Escape the Past?

That is the question.

There was a time when I was faced with a dilemma of whether to cling to the past, or to escape it. There are those who say that the two are equally dangerous. I choose not to cling, but also not to escape. I think that to escape would just aggravate feelings of remorse particularly with harsh or painful pasts. Why? For me, it would be like a balloon blown until it cannot hold anymore the air that is pumped into it then it will explode.

I choose to face the consequences of the past. I try to realize the wrong that I did and try to correct or straighten whatever there is that needs smoothing down. But never would I cling to it as if my life depends on it.

There are those who cannot move on and blame themselves of things that were done which shouldn’t have been done. The ‘if only’ phrases seemed to be their consolation to the failures, or disappointments. And I think that will not help at all. No use crying over spilled milk.

I know it is not easy to dissociate our present from past breakdowns. It is because they are connected. The present outcome is a result of the past and there is no way to alter it. But there is something to be done. One can cherish the past or be inspired of it to make the present better.

The past is truly a part of each individual. It does not require us to cling to it because we must live in the present. It does not tell us to escape it because there is certainly no chance of escaping. It is a chunk that makes the whole of an individual.

I say if I was a part of an excruciating past, please forgive and don't brood.

Http: Forbidden

There was enough time so I decided to bloghop. Then after minutes of bloghopping, I chanced upon a site that has a link to the blog site of a RESPECTABLE blogger. It has been a while since I last visited the site but I usually do not leave a comment. The post was interesting enough to elicit a ‘safe’ comment from me. I had to go back because I am interested to know the reply.

HTTP: Forbidden - that was what I saw at the upper portion of the page when I tried to access the site. I am not tech savvy so the first thing that crossed my mind was there must be something wrong with the server again. I went to another site which I recalled to have included the RESPECTABLE blogger’s site. The same note - HTTP: Forbidden was on the page.

Was it deliberate or not to forbid me from gaining access to the site? Boy, was I so naïve.

Maybe it was not deliberate. Maybe the page was not available that time.

Maybe it was deliberate. There must be a reason. Maybe I was banned for life, who knows? *grins*

Am I offended? No, of course not. If I am, I should have mentioned the name of the site, or pounced on the person. Everybody has his/her preferences and reasons so no problem. Kanya-kanya lang yan, a friend told me once when I posted some observations.


--------

Addendum:

I visited one of those sites. After reading a post of a genius blogger, I felt so exhausted. Never did I realize that unconstructive posts could drain one’s energy. There is no doubt that the blogger has extremely good writing style but the obnoxiousness crossed out the ingenuity. “What do you care, you nincompoop?” this is what the blogger might toss at me upon knowing that his extraordinary blog site is mugged up critically by a newbie. Or maybe worse. That is if I'll mention the blogsite.*smirk*

Http: Forbidden

There was enough time so I decided to bloghop. Then after minutes of bloghopping, I chanced upon a site that has a link to the blog site of a RESPECTABLE blogger. It has been a while since I last visited the site but I usually do not leave a comment. The post was interesting enough to elicit a ‘safe’ comment from me. I had to go back because I am interested to know the reply.HTTP: Forbidden - that was what I saw at the upper portion of the page when I tried to access the site. I am not tech savvy so the first thing that crossed my mind was there must be something wrong with the server again. I went to another site which I recalled to have included the RESPECTABLE blogger’s site. The same note - HTTP: Forbidden was on the page.

Was it deliberate or not to forbid me from gaining access to the site? Boy, was I so naïve.

Maybe it was not deliberate. Maybe the page was not available that time.

Maybe it was deliberate. There must be a reason. Maybe I was banned for life, who knows? *grins*

Am I offended? No, of course not. If I am, I should have mentioned the name of the site, or pounced on the person. Everybody has his/her preferences and reasons so no problem. Kanya-kanya lang yan, a friend told me once when I posted some observations.--------

Addendum:

I visited one of those sites. After reading a post of a genius blogger, I felt so exhausted. Never did I realize that unconstructive posts could drain one’s energy. There is no doubt that the blogger has extremely good writing style but the obnoxiousness crossed out the ingenuity. “What do you care, you nincompoop?” this is what the blogger might toss at me upon knowing that his extraordinary blog site is mugged up critically by a newbie. Or maybe worse. That is if I'll mention the blogsite.*smirk*

Double Celebration

HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OUR DEAREST PAPSIE!



CONGRATULATIONS FOR PASSING THE UP COLLEGE ADMISSION TEST,OUR DEAREST KAY!

Abuse

When I wrote this, I was reminded of the book I have just finished reading, My Story, which contained three of Dave Pelzer’s books – A Child Called ‘It’, The Lost Boy, and A Man Named Dave.

Among the three books, I admire the courage shown in the first book – A Child Called It. A Child Called It recounted the days when Dave was four to twelve years old. His horrendous ordeal with his mother whose brain had gone haywire made me shiver while reading. Imagine a little child to have experienced these:

• face smashed on the mirror
• blood gushing out of the nose because of a smack in the face then the tissue paper being rammed up in his nose
• punches that seemed to last forever
• left arm injured because of severe grips and punches
• go without dinner and accomplish whatever chores his mother asked him to do
• sent to the garage to stand until his mother called him to go to bed
• smacked, punched and kicked until he crumpled to the floor
• a bar of soap crammed down to his throat
• asked to strip off his clothes and stand by the kitchen stove
• arm held in the orange-blue flame of the stove and was asked to climb up the stove to lie on the flames to which he refused and by doing so received blows around his head and chest
• was brainwashed to make excuses about the bruises and marks on his body
• denied dinner for a week which became frequent until he had no dinner anymore causing him to steal food from his classmates’ lunchboxes, and at the school
• referred to as ‘The Boy’ then later ‘It’
• was blamed why her mother and father had arguments
• face was smeared with his brother’s soiled diaper then asked to eat the feces
• stole food from the garbage can to have something to eat
• was made to vomit after arriving from school because of his mother’s suspicion that he stole food then asked to swallow them all
• for months, slept under the breakfast table next to a box of kitty litter then was banished downstairs to the garage
• was made to swallow a tablespoon of ammonia then on the following day made to swallow two tablespoon of ammonia in front of his father
• was made to swallow spoonfuls of Clorox and dishwashing liquid (which was her favorite), too
• was demanded to sit on his hands with his head thrust backward, in a ‘prisoner-of-war’ position, at the bottom of the stairs
• was accidentally knifed just above the stomach when his mother was drunk waving her hands to him with a knife
• took care of his wound from the knife when it got infected because he doesn’t want to ask help from his mother who seemed to have gotten back to her ‘normal self’
• was starved for about ten consecutive days
• was asked to clean the bathroom under a time limit with the door closed and with the mixture of ammonia and Clorox also inside the bathroom causing him to cough up blood for an hour
• was asked to mow lawns and meet the impossible quota on his earnings
  

This list does not speak enough but I decided to cut it short just to give a picture of how appalling his ordeal was. Those punishments were made for mere reasons and most of the time without reasons at all. I cannot and will not blame Dave Pelzer for calling her a bitch and looking on her as a monster because she was truly a monster.

Dave Pelzer said in his afterword, “Some readers will find the story unreal and disturbing, but child abuse is a disturbing phenomenon that is a reality in our society.” Dave Pelzer’s case is one of the three worst cases of child abuse in the US.