Landline = Land Mine

Sa lahat ng ayoko, yung sasagot ng telepono sa bahay. Kasi hindi mo alam kung sino ang nasa kabilang linya. Kahit may caller ID, ayoko pa rin. Sa dami ng tumatawag sa bahay namin hindi mo na alam kung sino ang puwedeng bumulaga sa kabilang linya. Siguro childhood/pre-puberty/puberty trauma ito. Ang dami kasing epal na tumatawag sa bahay at ginagawang greeting ang mga killer lines na:

  • Mataba ka pa rin?
  • Magkano na ang suweldo mo?
  • Ipasok mo naman ako/kamag-anak/kapitbahay/kakilala riyan sa trabaho mo.
  • Ang yaman yaman mo na siguro.
  • Hirap na hirap nga kami ngayon sa buhay, di gaya niyo.

Siguro rin, likas lang akong anti-social sa totoong buhay. Sa opisina, napipilitan lang akong sumagot ng telepono dahil parte yun ng trabaho ko. Mayayari ako kapag may nagsabing hindi ako sumasagot ng desk phone.

Mga tatlong minuto na ang nakalipas. Hinugot ko ang kable ng telepono. May tawag nang tawag. Walang tao rito sa bahay kundi ako (at tulog ang isa kong kapatid). Natuturete ako sa makulit na kiriring. Isang mabilis na hugot lang ang solusyon. Hah.

I’m free. Sorry sa kung sinumang caller. Walang personalan. Quirk lang.

Advertisements

Vincent Jan Rubio Killed

Sharksfin and I met VJ when we were still writing for the Philippine Collegian. Aside from being part of the Kultura section, the only thing that we knew about VJ was the Sto. Nino story. Rumors had it that his mom chanced upon him dancing in front of the mirror.  His mom thought that he was being possessed by infant Jesus and told the neighborhood about the Dancing Sto. Nino scene. The story earned him the “Dancing Sto. Nino” title.  Please note that we only heard about the story from the veteran staffers – story may, or may not, be true.

Almost 8 years after our Collegian days, we found out from Facebook that VJ was killed. We do not have access to any decent news article about his death. We found three articles online and they are all clearly SS (salsal) stories. We can tell. And we hate it. These articles shouldn’t have been published.

I find it quite awkward to write about the death of people I didn’t know too well. It feels like I’m bound to do injustice to the one that passed on. It’s just that when someone you know dies this way, you cannot help but feel an unexplainable loss and an overwhelming fear.

We are swimming in the same seas. What happened to VJ can happen to anyone. Is it still right to bring children into this kind of life? I’m due to give birth in the next few days. I am already scared for Potling. The mere thought of losing Sharksfin never fails to bring palpitations and tears. Visions of  tragic deaths for the important people in my life horrify me. Now, more than ever.

Condolences to VJ’s family and loved ones.

VJ, please help everyone heal – and make the bastards pay.

My Funny Valentine

Funny balentong is more apt. Nabalentong ako.

I had a great morning until I tripped and fell flat on the ground. A little Olympic maneuver saved the left side of Potling’s home a.k.a. my gigantic tummy. What caused the fall? Nothing. Just me and my funny bones. Hah.

Aside from the excruciating pain from my sprained ankle, only one thing worried me – Potling stopped moving. She was doing her usual good-morning-world-i-will-kick-you-all routine before the accident and when she didn’t move twenty minutes after I fell, I panicked. Yes, there were tears.

After almost 8 hours of being poked, examined and monitored at the Labor Room (my first time!), Potling and I were released. We’re ok. But since I can barely walk, Sharksfin and I will have to stay inside the house tomorrow.

Oh we had great plans. Simple but special (at least for me) plans. We’re supposed to attend a very special PAG-IBIG seminar (no pun intended), buy the rest of the contents of our maternity bag and his first wrench set for Bogart’s long-overdue oil change. Bogart is his homosexual mistress. Peace!

So what’s the date today?

Valentine’s and I are not meant to be. Even before Sharksfin and I were married, we never really celebrated valentine’s day together. There was really no need, as our anniversary date is Feb 17. But I’m still like most women – Feb 14 is more important to me than my birthday. Unlike most women though, I just don’t know how to make a scene when I don’t receive any love offerings on Cupid’s day. Harhar.

Before January ended, I was already thinking that my lifetime hearts’ day curse will finally come to an end. I was thinking that I am now married, I am almost a mom… what could go wrong? My husband and I have our own space and lots of time to spare.

And then I tripped.

And the last reminder of one of the doctors that took care of me was…

No sexual contact please.

Happy heart’s day to all!

How Judas Must Have Felt

Dance between DANGER and OPPORTUNITY

Lessons from Branding and Marketing are surprisingly apt for personal lives too.

…  “All the hard work of building a brand can be erased in a blink of the eye when a crisis hits and you make the wrong move. At the same time, a brand that handles a crisis appropriately can emerge undamaged — and in rare circumstances even enhanced.”

… “Perhaps now would be the appropriate place to note that the Chinese symbol for crisis is a combination of the symbols for danger and opportunity.”

… “When you’re in a crisis, the most important step you can take is to immediately admit when you’ve messed up and follow that by quickly, and sincerely apologizing.”

Forgiveness is an elusive beast.

Copy That…

Another treasure from my archive… July 26, 2003. Sharksfin’s “sigh” of frustration over writing about obscure pseudo-nationalist resto’s.

===

NO ONE EATS IN OUR RESTAURANT!!!

Please, have the heart to dine here.

And we’ll offer everything you want. Even Jollibee’s Chickenjoy. Or crappy Celadon’s what’s its face again? Bulgogy? Whatever. Just please, help us fill our restaurant so passers-by will have the impression that we are a popular diner.

We don’t want our bosses to kick the crap out of us just because we don’t attract a hefty percentage of City Walk patrons. We’ve employed every imaginable market research and PR and advertising campaign, but it seems these have made matters even worse and to the detriment of our resto. And if this ad still doesn’t produce our desired results, this may very well be the last time you’ll hear of Mongolian Feast.

You might be asking right now, “If I give in to your pathetic request, what the hell do I get in return?”

 Well, a lot of things. For one, you’ll fire up your nationalism everytime you dine at Mongolian Feast. Since we are a 100% Filipino firm (the word “Mongolian” may mislead you, but its purposes are nothing more than “pa-effect”), you help your country’s economy rebound and recover sooner. Never mind if they blast Afghanistan to kingdom come, we never believed in free trade anyway.

My Wife Is A… Gangsta?

I spent the past three weeks doing what i’ve been dreaming of for the longest time… for three weeks, I was a full-time homemaker.

I officially returned to work today and I already miss:

… cleaning the bedroom (sweep, tidy up mess, spray Lysol lemon, leave Glade lemon gel “open” for the fresh scent to fill the room)

… cleaning the “living room” (sweep, tidy up mess, spray Lysol lemon)

… clean the bathroom (tidy up mess, “mild” floor scrubbing, spray Lysol lemon, leave Glade lemon gel “open” for the fresh scent to fill the room)

… reading (ADD reader style – juggling these books: What to Expect When Expecting, All I Ever Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, Working With Emotional Intelligence, Best Practices in Leadership Development Training, Pinoy Recipes)

… cooking dinner

… listening to all-time favorite FM stations – 94.7 and 96.3

… ok, ok, for quite some time – watching Simpsons over and over and over…

… cross-stitching in between tasks

… taking a bath with the end goal of no less than freshness before Sharksfin arrives from work (timing matters!)

My shift’s about to end… I’d be lucky if I will still be able to squeeze in one to two of these activities – aside from cooking dinner – before exhaustion drives me to zzzzzz-land.

Not complaining at all… I guess this is an almost-expression of CONTENTMENT from someone who’s always had something to complain about.

Never felt so blessed, loved and happy. I don’t know how to handle it. Hah.

Prayer for the day

Triple Celebration Today:
104 months with Sharksfin
Potling’s 13th Gestational Week
Official Move-in Date (but we’re really just cleaning the house tonight)
Dear Sharksfin, Potling and The Big Man From Up There,

May I know Thee more clearly,
Love Thee more dearly and
Follow Thee more nearly, day by day.

~Saint Richard of Chichester