Jandrea...so far

Photo by Summer Parcon      Wishing everyone God's light in this world we have re-created in our fashion. In our quest to make lives better, we have succeeded in creating mind-boggling technology, new-fangled machines, and jaw-dropping know-how to control nature. We have learned to make use of the earth's resources to such extent that it is now gasping for breath, singing a plaintive woe to its impending demise.       Our hearts go out to the victims of the recent Typhoon Sendong. We scamper around trying to save their Present in hope of giving them a Future. Beyond that, the fury of the storm served to warn us of the devastation waiting to happen in other parts of the world if we don't get our acts together. The darkness slowly enveloping our planet and our country may be dispelled only if remember to bring back our lands, air and waters to their pristine state. It is our moral mandate to bring them back to the state when God first gave us Light and Life!

In 2003, I submitted the following piece to the Phil. Daily Inquirer's contest for readers to write about new Christmas family traditions. Proud to say, this won first prize! (P20,000 worth of gift certificates redeemable at all Rustan's establishments.) I like reading it just before Christmas so that I am reminded of the true meaning of the holidays! This the original, unedited version,  prior to publication in the Christmas issue of the broadsheet.     "Rudolp the red nose reindeer,  Had a bery shiny nose  Olop, the oder reindeer  Use to lap and call him names…” The holidays in my childhood used to be signaled by such Christmas carols sung by the neighborhood kids outside our door. Whenever I would hear the first notes, it was as if a light inside me would be switched on. It was a time of anticipation of greater things to come! But as my world became a little less innocent, I began to hear their off-key strains of song. The musical notes would, in my cynica

2011 Commissioning of members of the Ministry of Lectors & Commentators Holy Family Parish      After wearing a white blouse and and a black skirt almost every Sunday for mass the last 25 years or so, I couldn't find anything suitable in my closet this morning when I could wear something else aside from my lector's uniform.  I was on leave from the ministry in order to attend to other concerns. I realized I had no appropriate Sunday wear. In my closet were only "teachery" stuff. Only week-end gear. I wonder what that says about me? That I am no fashion plate? That I am just being practical by not buying stuff that I wouldn't actually get to use often? Or that my Sunday duties have been so ingrained in my life that it was the only thing that I really cared to dress up for?        Hmmmm... all wrong on the fashion angle! But so right on lectoring being a vital part of my life. It all begun in 1985 when I applied to become a lector/commentator, underg

Performance artist near the  Sacre Couer Basilica in Paris  For my SJC Classmates... Memento mori is a Latin phrase translated as "Remember your mortality", "Remember you must die" or "Remember you will die" It names a genre of artistic work which varies widely, but which all share the same purpose: to remind people of their own mortality. As far as I'm concerned, the work of art that constantly reminds me of my mortality is the face and body I see in the full-length mirror daily. When I peer into my likeness, there is no doubt that I'm inching my way slowly into mortality. But there was a better way of convincing me that this was true. Since the last few weeks after my birthday in September,  I have been busy with my annual physical examination. The results have been trickling in, one by one, and my feelings  remind me of my Little Girl Self anxiously waiting to open my  gifts on Christmas eve.  When I did get to read all of th

Tree in the Academic Oval For the last 17 years, I've been having a affair... with teaching... at UP. Being a teacher at UP has always made me feel like I'm in a forbidden romance. Many days, I  feel giddy just being here but for an equal amount of days, I feel unworthy to be part of such an illustrious institution.  As an undergraduate student,  I was in awe of my professors. There they were, up in the star-decked sky and I could only marvel at their brilliance from my place among the riffraff of the academic world. Although I grew up helping my teacher mother with her preparations for class,  entering the academe was never part of my plan on how to conquer the world. I admit, once in a while, I did imagine myself in front of the classroom but never actually believed I could do it in real life. It was like having a secret crush on that gentle-looking hunk in the library but knowing it would remain just that because he was someone else's boyfriend. And even if he we

     For my sister , Ling, who always provides me the biggest pieces in this evolving thing... Many of us go through life looking for that single, perfect person who will make us happy, make us whole. We go around looking vulnerable, showing the gaping hole in our hearts, thinking that someone special out there has the power to stop the bleeding. Maybe it will be a guru who will provide all the answers to our life questions. Or a soul-mate who will always be in sync with our thoughts and will rejoice in our shared idiosyncracies. Or the love of one's life who will feed our desires and provide the reasons for bliss and contentment. And of course, many of us, if not all, end up disappointed in this impossible quest. In my fading years, I can say with utmost certainty that we can never rely on any one person to make us complete. Aside from holes in our heart and spirit which call for mending, parts of us were never with us to begin with.  I think that one purpose of l

  I was in a rush that morning so I forgot to take my multi-vitamin right after breakfast. Coming out of the bathroom, I found a glass of water with the pill on the counter near our bed, courtesy of my hubby. Touched by his gesture, I saw once again that his kind of love comes in quiet, unspoken moments. Vitamin L(ove) really kept me going that day!

Plainly said, I like sentimental songs. I like melodies that touch my very core that I find it hard not to shed tears when I listen to them. No words are needed to communicate pain...loneliness... realizations... healing ... beauty. Here's a couple which touch the rawness of my heart, "Gabriel's Oboe" and the theme from "Cinema Paradiso" http://youtu.be/PygPri0-LNA

Day 8, Alcorcon & Madrid: 18 Aug 2011 - Catechesis at San Juan de Mata Parish - Welcome Ceremony for the Pope at Plaza de Cibeles Today was the second day for the Catechesis at the San Juan de Mata Parish in Alcorcon. Before the speaker arrived, animators were in charge of preparing the audience for the session. During the animation, from where we were seated, I could not see the person leading the songs & accompanying movements. I normally am shy about joining such activities but “getting into the groove of things” (betrays my being a “child of the 70s”) was easy as the energy and enthusiasm of the young people around me were infectious. But there was a slight unease as I could not see the animators in the front of the church from where I was standing. So I turned to the hundred others who were imitating their movements. But it was a certain Caucasian girl in the middle of the church who drew my attention. Maybe because she was directly in the line of my astigmatic visio

Day 6, Caceres: 14 August 2011                 The journey continues... so far, it has been both joyous and challenging. My children and I have been blessed by being given the chance to be here, together. It is an opportunity that may never come again and thus, I am determined to make the most out of this pilgrimage to strengthen not only our filial bonds but also our connection to our Catholic faith.                             Today, the Cubao pilgrims joined in the celebration of the Holy Mass with the community and the families from the Parish of Beato Spinola which hosted our group for the Days in the Diocese. We were asked to lead in the singing of some of the mass songs. Thus, we chose to sing “Purihin ang Panginoon” which we had learned to sing with parts in Spanish, English, and Filipino. Other songs were either in Filipino or English and the final song was “Firmes en la Fe” which was of course, in Spanish. The three languages used in song and worship taught me that langua

  Being in Europe transports you into a different world. And inside that world lies still another world... that's what it feels like when you're in Venice!  You step back into another century, when beauty was a requirement for living. Your eyes are filled with amazement at the works of art around you. The water surrounding the city wakes up your imagination, creating stories of romance and adventure that might have transpired and still come alive in this magical place. Oh, to be back here again very soon!

For the story and more pictures ... http://mycubao.org/2011/10/07/cuatro-vientos-a-precious-privilege-wyd11-reflection/

 I participated in a group show organized by the MAP or the Martinez Art Projects where I showed my wire jewelry and poetry. It opened in March 7, 2009 at the Lundayan Gallery on Kamuning Road.  Check out the pictures taken by our cousin, Eddie Boy Escudero, during the show's opening. http://ebeseyes.multiply.com/photos/album/145/Kamuning#

Thanks to my sister, Ling, for the very beautiful bouquet of flowers.  Love you, sis!   I think I was born a mother.  You're right, I didn't say I was born to BE a mother but was BORN a mother. Let me explain. I'm the eldest of 3 children. In the Philippines, there's a long list of duties in the job decription for eldest children. In summary, an "Ate" or "Kuya" is tasked and expected to be another parent to their younger siblings. While this position entails serious responsibility, it also grants some power and privilege to a child merely by way of his birth position. So even  as a child, being constantly reminded by the elders, I took my role pretty seriously.  As far as I can remember, my parents willingly shared adult duties with me, expecting me not only to help with the kids but also with household management even at a young age. My siblings didn't seem to have any problem following my lead. I didn't mind mothering them because they r

I like creating stuff. Latest in my attempts to produce crafty things is making unusual jewelry. Did some sketches on a notebook first then executed the designs using some wire that Ling gave me.   Here's a choker with multi-colored glass beads.   On the left is a pendant with synthetic black pearls which I named "MORTAL SINS" while on the right is a brooch with genuine black seed pearls. I still have to find a name for it.

Thanks to Maridol for the picture "This is diva therapy, it’s when you need grand gestures of fabulousness added with a high level of art doused with a bit of gossip and giggles to keep one’s mood buoyant."            I almost didn't buy this pair of slip-ons. While they appealed to my aesthetic sense, I wasn't sure if the excessive display of color and the intricate bead work belonged to something that would just shod my feet. But the "bongga" in me could not be contained. It was just struggling to get out!           I've always had trouble deciding between that which is subtle and understated and something that would be considered bright and flamboyant. Much as I believe in "less is more," I am also in awe of intricate and small details in designs. Whether these choices concern my wardrobe or home decor, I'm usually stumped when there are two equally active alternatives. Recently, when faced with a choice between beige or red for

  Breakfast at HEAT Restaurant, EDSA Shangri-la Sometimes, my husband and kids think I'm looney. Well, admittedly, many times, I am! But I will certainly not get crazy over gadgets like the Blackberry, especially since they cost a pretty penny. But when it comes to food, that's another story!

From http://postsecret.blogspot.com May sinulat ang aking kapwa-guro tungkol sa kanyang nararamdaman kapag may natutulog sa klase nya. Hindi raw sya natutuwa at hindi nya raw alam kung anong gagawin kapag may ganun na. Naku, ako rin! Tinatanong ko na  lang sa sarili ko kung gigisingin ko ba ito o hahayaan na lang? Kadalasan, hindi ko na lang pinapansin at iniisip ko na malamang hindi naman sya nananadya. Meron sigurong sapat na dahilan kung bakit pipiliin nyang hindi mapakinggan ang talakayan sa klase o kaya nama'y mapagalitan ng guro o mas kahiya-hiya, mapagtawanan ng buong klase. Eto ang Top 10 possible reasons:  1) Working student sya at katatapos lang ng shift nya  2) Pinagbantay sya sa ospital ng magulang na maysakit sa buong magdamag 3) Namatayan sila kaya naglamay siya 4) Varsity player sya at simula ng madaling araw ang practice nila araw-araw 5) May undiagnosed Narcolepsy sya since high school pa 6) Humahagok ang roommates nya kaya't palagi syang nag

  Once in a while, when I am in the midst of dark emotions, I find release in translating them into images. Here's one that spoke of a desolate, gut-wrenching November when I thought a dream had been lost!

Story #1: Nancy Drew   I was addicted to the Nancy Drew stories when I was in Grade school. It was my obsession to read all of the books in this collection. Not being able to afford to buy them, I would just wait for my aunt to give them to me as pasalubong from  the US or I would borrow them from my 2nd cousin, Gelene, who had, it seemed to me then, all the titles listed in the back of every volume.       Not only did I want to read every Nancy Drew adventure ever published, I also wanted to read them as fast as I could every time I got hold of one. So that when I was in the middle of one and it was lights out time,  I would continue reading under the kulambo using a flashlight.      DId I get to read all of the Nancy Drew books? Nah, adolescence got in the way. I was introduced to other reading fare. And they became my next obsession. (See Story #3) Story #2: "Ghost Story"      My aunt who used to live with us before she moved to the US, had a collection of fictio

May 30, '10 2:07 PM "God is manifest in the ordinary, in the actual, in the daily, in the now, in the concrete incarnations of life." ... — from Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality         During Mass yesterday, feeling absolutely low, some kids from Catechism class were asked to sit with me. The tears just had to stop. At the end of the mass, one 5-year-old even managed to kick my little toe. Aaaw! Bleeding, how could I not concentrate on my physical pain instead of the one in my heart? Strange ways God picks to make one forget desperation, even for a while!

27 October 2005                                                                                   (Inspired by my dear friend, Chei) A rationalization in the first degree! For what I hope will be my reward for not putting physical attractiveness in the top of my list on how to have a meaningful life. But let's face it. Those who have external cutaneous superiority reap all the advantages in this world. Psychological studies attest to this. And I would be a traitor to my profession if I didn't agree with this assertion. Empirical data shows that they get higher grades. They get better jobs. They get higher pay. They can bully us and get away with it. They have someone else always do the dirty jobs for them. Etc, etc, etc!!!!!!!!! Until all the tinsel lose their sparkle! Until the foundation can no longer hide the spots and the hairpieces, what is no longer there. Until the fat cells take over their worlds. Until people who were bitched upon learn to bitch ba

   Since I discovered Khalil Gibran in my teens, his words have always helped me look beyond what I can see. He has reminded me that there's a world deep inside each of us that can be one's source of comfort in times of need.

Loose & polite translation:             "Do not relieve yourself here. People eat the vegetables planted here.              I swear those who don't heed this warning will be stricken with leprosy." Saw this sign on our street while walking home from church one Sunday. I figure the owner of the little roadside garden had had too many encounters with people who ignore warnings of the verbal kind. Kaya, eto ang sa inyo! (Sfx: Evil laughter with accompanying thunder and lightning!)

     There’s so much to tell about Flory. As I recall the many memories I have of her, they alternately bring me to the brink of tears or laughter escapes even from this unhappy heart.  My story of Flory has been very hard to write, not because there are deep dark secrets I’m trying hard not to reveal, but because I know the way I will relate my memories of her will always pale in comparison to the way she would tell her version of these memories.                   I first met Flory in college, in the late 1970s, when we were members of the UP Psychology Society. Then in the 1980s, our paths crossed again at the Foreign Service Institute. I was delighted to see a romance blossoming between two of my friends. (Trygve was a former colleague of my then would-be husband, Dani). As we shared a workplace for some years, we were witnesses to each other’s weddings, the births of our children, and all the events which marked important milestones in our lives.  For some years, we wou

Badjao Restaurant, Palawan FMM convent, Tagaytay      Anything worth having has to be pursued through many roads, many of them bumpy. A few of them may provide interesting sights along the way. Sometimes, one thinks, the journey is just as, if not more important, than the destination. A good friend of mine said, "Victory is in the struggle and not in reaching the goal. Failure is when I don't struggle anymore."  Wise words coming from someone in a very difficult journey of fighting for his life. Moon Garden, Tagaytay      Many times, we trudge along wearily, not realizing all that we gain by our tenacity. We move forward, little by little, each step a little cause for celebration. Each accomplishment strengthens our spirit, increases our resolve to reach our goal.      The end is not always in sight. Sometimes, we think it is impossible to reach it. At times, it seems not worth all the effort we put into achieving it.  But that tiny light at the very end ho

Yes, I'm sick! I'm not too sure if it's the flu because I'm not showing all the symptoms. Well, not all at once anyway. Here's a rundown of the unfolding of the ailment:                      First, started getting woozy Sunday evening. This, I attributed to a high cholesterol lunch of batchoy.              By Monday, woozy had progressed to dizzy - a mild attack of vertigo which prevented me from going to work.           Tuesday, my nose started to drip more than usual. Nothing that a boxful of tissue couldn't handle. Or so I thought!           On Wednesday, I had to force myself to go to work even if I was sneezing violently all over the place.           Thursday,  there was very little energy left to give a lecture in class as I had also started coughing. With feelings!           Friday was spent in bed trying to fight off the virus or bacteria or whatever name the enemy goes by.             By Saturday morning, my nose and upper lip ar

Piano Recital at Ensemble Hall, SJC Saturday, October 29, 2005 I must have been 10 or 11 when I nurtured visions of myself playing on a stage of a large concert hall. But that dream was not to be. After studying piano for maybe 14 years, I realized the only audience I would end up impressing with my playing would be... no one. Not even myself! Today, those thoughts were confirmed while struggling with a piano piece that I have studying. After a few years, I still can't get it right. Drat and a double drat! Anything "artistic" that only some can aspire to do, I have at least learned how to do at some point in my life. I can play the piano, guitar, and marimba. I sang with a choir for some years, even earning a chance to be soloist at least once. I have acted in and even directed plays, performing in many corners of the country. I even used to paint a little and when inspiration moves me, still try to draw. Dance lessons were part of my summer repertoi

            Mama had 2 birthdays. As young children, we always celebrated it on December 12. Then when she applied for a passport when I was about 10 years old, she had to secure a copy of her birth certificate. Lo and behold, on it her birthday was January 31, 1923! How that came to be, no one could explain. My Lola said that she was sure Mama was not born on the date written on that piece of paper. How can that be when all her other legal documents bore December 12, 1922 as her date of birth? But there was no one to ask about the circumstances of her birth registration. So everyone surmised that the clerk must have made a mistake of writing the date when her birth was registered as the date of birth. That would have put the issue at rest but no, my mother could not be comforted by that explanation. She just had to make sure that we didn't miss out celebrating the day she was born.          So, from thereon we would have two birthday celebrations every year.  I preferred going a

At 53    As I get older, it seems that getting friendly with my Id has become less dangerous. It is not as threatening to my Ego as it used to be.I've noticed that not only am I less fearful about speaking my mind, I've also allowed my mind to speak in not so wholesome ways.      I've allowed wicked thoughts to slip through the sturdy and unyielding barriers of yesteryears. For example, when I see people with very unattractive physical features, I think about descriptions that are definitely politically incorrect. However, ehem ... when I see very attractive men of every age, I immediately imagine possible dalliances ( Joke lang, T! ) People who fail to meet my expectations are berated with sometimes unkind words ( Silently, of course! )  Then there's my ever-increasing temptation to butt in when overhearing conversations of strangers. I just have this need to correct errors, offer answers to their questions, and oh, just say anything to "enrich&q

          The loss of very close friends of mine continue to haunt me even after many years. Although I am constantly reminded by well-meaning people that time heals all wounds, I still cannot get to that place where what happened no longer matters. That might be because I have not learned to forgive them for the pain of not knowing what it is I did or did not do to deserve what they put me through.            Lately though, I've imagined myself forgiving them, saying "Ok na ako. Ok na rin sana kayo!"  I've abandoned my idea that in order for a person to be forgiven, he or she must acknowledge his or her wrongdoing and apologize for it.  It is highly unlikely to happen so why should my soul suffer over someone else's  inability to show remorse? Maybe I did deserve to be severed from their lives. Who knows?!            This realization is probably ten years too late but hey, those were really big and deep wounds! Taking baby steps now but I have

           I've always been an APO fan. I love their easy-to-listen to music, the way they seemed to enjoy singing together all these years and of late, their contributions to the political scene. But as a teen-ager,  I was particularly interested in  Jim Paredes. For me, he was the most attractive of the 3 members. I have followed developments in his career and personal life. Even now, I follow him on Twitter and read his blog. I've never paid to much attention to Danny Javier and Buboy Garrovillo except to think that the former seemed to be the smartest and the latter was cute in a little boy way.          But things kinda changed when I met Buboy in person last November 2010. Yes, he was still cute as he didn't seem to be too different from how he has looked since I was in high school. But it wasn't that which struck me about him. He seemed to be just a guy-next-door who wasn't trying too hard to be the celebrity that he was. He trudged through rocky paths and