My Blog

happy birthday….

you are missed…

Right. Along with checking emails, this is becoming routine. Logging on to Friendster, checking the blog and wearily cleaning out spam. Trust the viagra vendors to find ways of getting through to you. Anyways, I wasn’t being mindful and I inadvertently labeled one of my own messages “spam”. So if I couldn’t post comments on my own page, it’s my fault.

A lot of things that reminded me of cycles recently. Karlo, Kari’s 21-year old first born, died of cardiac arrest; Doc Rod went on to his rest; and it was Meg’s birthday last week. 

Maya (I capitulated and agreed henceforth to follow the authorized spelling of her name) had her birthday at an orphanage. Reminder to those of you who will be asked to manage party games in an orphanage, please don’t ever issue a call for “bring me your daddy/papa or mommy/mama” when you’re doing the good old “Bring Me” game. It’s just plain callous.

I joined the clean-up dive yesterday. And let me say this as mournfully as I can —  there sure is a lot of trash at Babusanta. Among the stuff we brought up were a busted Suunto dive watch, a cushion seat, a silkscreen design (yes the one used for printing on shirts), an old wallet with a washed out driver’s license and taxi receipts, and loads of plastic, rubber strips and diapers. I’ve a mind to write to shampoo manufacturers and ask if they know how long it takes for their sachets to disintegrate underwater.

And oh, I’ve been really sleepy lately. I slept for 12 hours last night and woke up this morning feeling like I still want to go back to bed — could be fatigue, blood sugar problems or depression. Choose your pick. In my younger days I would’ve sprung for depression — goes well with the romantic notions I have of me — but these days I’m too tired to quibble.

And it’s only Monday morning.

Urgh.

“If I fall along the way
Pick me up and dust me off 
And if I get too tired to make it
Be my breath so I can walk

If I need some other love then
Give me more than I can stand
And when my smile gets old and faded
Wait around I’ll smile again

Shouldn’t be so complicated
Just hold me and then
Just hold me again

Can you help me I’m bent
I’m so scared that I’ll never
Get put back together
Keep breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me… bent

If I couldn’t sleep could you sleep
Could you paint me better off
Could you sympathize with my needs
I know you think I need a lot

I started out clean but I’m jaded
Just phoning it in
Just breaking the skin

Can you help me I’m bent
I’m so scared that I’ll never
Get put back together
Keep breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me… bent…”

… wala naman daw pangit sa mundo; may mga mukha nga lang na di na uso.

I’ve always thought that a vigorous discourse on the relative notion of beauty (the standard “beauty-is-in-the-eyes-of-the-beholder” line)  or –should that prove lame–  b) laying the blame squarely on genetics (”I was born with this face”) would be enough to get me shooed off the looks department but I guess now I’ve been supplied a new excuse. 

“Pasensya na po kayo, out of season po kasi ang mukha ko ngayon. Give it a few years, baka mauso uli.” ;P

They brought you flowers Val

The blooms weren’t what you had specified but

There they were: flowers and

People whose lives you touched and

Who, certainly, touched enlivened enhanced yours

The woman beside me nodded through

Her tears when I asked her if she

Knew you and I envied her for having had

The chance to be with you in your new milieu

Your chosen paths and spaces and I

Wondered had you also talked to her?

I was not able  to share with them my thoughts

And stories about you it was

Another’s words whom I read that night

But I know you knew what I wanted to

Say: that I haven’t strayed too

Far from your admonitions that night

We trudged through the streets of Ilustre

To seek one’s happiness to serve people well

To aspire for wisdom courage and

Resilience and to not to be too afraid or

Angry to forget joyfulness for it isn’t just

All about deprivation and struggle but also

And perhaps more so about hopes and dreams 

And loves desires and having something

Someone to look forward to whether it is humba or

A particular someone a group a unit a community

And Val they came and they brought you flowers

“I was unconscious, half asleep
The water is warm ’til you discover how deep
I wasn’t jumping, for me it was a fall
It’s a long way down to nothing at all

You’ve got to get yourself together
You got stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it
Don’t say that later will be better
Now you’re stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it

And if the night runs over
And if the day won’t last
And if your way should falter
Along this stony pass

It’s just a moment
This time will pass”

I Google you
late at night when I don’t know what to do
I find photos
you’ve forgotten
you were in
put up by your friends
I Google you
when the day is done and everything is through
I read your journal
that you kept
that month in France
I’ve watched you dance
And I’m pleased your name is practically unique
it’s only you and
a would-be PhD in Chesapeake
who writes papers on
the structure of the sun
I’ve read each one
I know that I
should let you fade
but there’s that box
and there’s your name
somehow it never makes the pain
grow less or fade or disappear
I think that I should save my soul and
I should crawl back in my hole
But it’s too easy just to fold
and type your name again
I fear
I google you
Whenever I’m alone and feeling blue
And each scrap of information
That I gather
says you’ve got somebody new
And it really shouldn’t matter
ought to blow up my computer
but instead….
I google you

So, another spam subject matter goes “Paris Hilton evades prison in last minute deal. Gov. Schwarzenegger resigns in protest.”

Pramis?

Now, why can’t spam have more relevant subject matters (to the Philippines anyway) like “Sec. Gonzalez regrets being a spinmeister; promises to tell the truth from now on.”

Pramis?

I make it a point to read email subject matters before I delete the contents of spam folders. (And it’s not because I don’t have a life) For one, legit emails sometimes do get shunted to spam bins by servers. (I did email you that report, honest) For another, they have entertainment value. Um, for me, anyways.

For instance, were it not for spam I would not have found out that there are more names for the reproductive organs than I cared to know. Last time I checked, the male organ had about ten aliases; way more than the names they gave to the female organ. (Why am I not surprised?) On the other hand though (and this might just be a case of cosmic justice) my male colleagues complained of getting inundated by emails that suggested that hydraulic operations needed to be done on their systems.

Spammers often pick on the celebrities of the moment. At some point, Britney Spears reigned supreme. And then Brangelina. And now it’s Paris Hilton.

Sometimes the subject matters form coherent thoughts. Like the ones that say Paris Hilton wants to do something unprintable with you. (She what?!) At other times they seem like an application/program was used to randomly string words together.

But this subject sure made me smile: “SpongeBob in paternity suit filed by Paris Hilton”

Way to go, SpongeBob!

Hmm, I wonder what Patrick and Squidward had to say about that?

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling all your threads saying
Breaking yourself up

If it’s a broken part, replace it
But, if it’s a broken heart then brace it
If it’s a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your own name
And go your own way

And everything will be fine
Everything will be fine
mmmhmm

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I’m doing everything

Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way

And everything, everything will be fine
Everything

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

Yeah everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Everything

Hold your own
And know your name
And go your own way

Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling? (Go your own way)

Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)
Is it Mother Nature’s sewing machine?

Are the things that make you blow (Hold your own, know your name)
Hell no reason go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault (Go your own way)
Of faulty manufacturing

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold