Speculations








"Let's make a story," I told Darfie. He was downing his third bottle of Tanduay Ice when O-Bar's show girls took the small stage.

"Once upon a time, when O-Bar Ortigas was just an experiment - a doomed experiment I used to say." I paused to watch a tranny lip sync a Rihanna anthem. "These ladies were asked if they like to be assigned there." 

"Or they'll stick with O-Malate."

At that time, every gay guy in the city could be seen in Malate. It's the rainbow capital not even the dingy  and cheap Palawan bars could match.

"Of course, nobody wants to perform in Ortigas. Nobody goes there." I dropped my cigarette and kicked it under the bar table. "So they stuck with Malate, leaving the present Dream Girls of O running the show there."

"For some reasons, they agreed never to switch places."

"Now O-Malate's patrons are fast diminishing. Pansin mo naman, kung hindi mga tanderz ang pumupunta dito eh mga affam* na katulad ni Miss Jay." Miss Jay was the black muscular patron who wore a fit black shirt, a very short, shorts and fishnet stockings to show his skinny legs. He looked like Miss Jay Alexander of ANTM.

"Kaso wala na pumpunta ng Malate. Pansin mo, hindi na jampack dito gaya noon." Darfie nodded. "Lahat tayo, sa Ortigas.

After thirty minutes of lip syncing and sashaying, the girls' performance had concluded. They went down the stage to collect tips. Unlike in Ortigas where I hide from these drag performers, I dropped bills enough to buy a bottle of San Mig Lights for tips. The lady holding the collection bag thank me before shoving the bag to the guy behind me.



It was one of those chilly Sabado nights. I was restless, lonely and feeling a bit blue. I was allowed at home to stay out but I had nowhere to go. Evading boredom, I went back to the dance floor. I chose Malate over Ortigas this time because the cover charge was cheaper. Darfie, my twitter acquaintance was also there.

"Felt like I leveled down." I told him after the party. "Pansin mo, kung hindi estudyante eh mga laborers kasama natin." I was telling him earlier of a friend who is a Starbucks Executive who goes to Ortigas. Meanwhile, a barista was one of the revelers among us when we were in Malate.

The call boys still lined the stretch of Nakpil even when daybreak was fast approaching. Desperately in need of customers, some of them even tried to call our attention. I traded glances with them.

"This place is dying."

No longer the fairy land of our time, Malate is now an echo of its colorful past. Gone are the nights when men of every shade of pink spilled on the streets after packing the bars with their presence. The corner of Nakpil and Orosa used to be a melting pot of ideas and dramas. And while love and lust have been found and lost there, people return to purge themselves. To renew the bonds that attached them to the place.

And until I find that courage to start anew, there's no doubt that I'd stay resident of that rainbow corner. Even when the dance floor who had seen me in my best and worst times will be, but a history come February.

"After seven party years, O Bar Malate will be closing its doors on January 31, 2013." I read on Facebook. "We would like to thank everyone who helped us become what we are today. More power to all of you! See you all at O Bar Ortigas!

Party out......Party loud!"

Like all dance clubs and watering holes before it. O-Bar Malate has served its purpose. No longer a place to have fun or forget one's sorrow. I hope those who have seen its pink walls and green laser lights more than half a decade of their lives will find a place to perform and begin anew.


*affam - white/black gay men





Patient Diego (First Part)



A slight, barely noticeable fever lasted for days. My sister began to worry. Her son is barely a year old. But her hesitation forced my mother to intervene. On a cloudy Sunday a week ago, the couple had to bring baby Diego to a medical clinic. My mother's instruction.

Within the day, the blood test results came in. Doctors ordered immediate confinement. The baby's blood platelet count dropped below 100. Possible cause: Dengue Fever. I was at work when the news broke out. Coming from a crisis after our network had been hacked, the family emergency had me telling the boss that I would go half-day. Understanding my situation since he too had gone through such ordeal with his son, he let me go.

Grim images ran through my head as the taxi sped to Manila Doctors. Where did the mosquito come from? What about the dozen kids who live in our compound? Was it the dirty driveway? Was it because of my plants? Between the empty streets and cluttered thoughts, I didn't notice that I was already approaching the Emergency Room. There, inside the Pedia quarters, screams of a baby boy can be heard. A huge needle had pierced through his underfoot for the intravenous fluid to flow. His body temperature shot to 40 degrees an hour before I came in.   

"Kuya pupunta ka ba dito?" I read the message on my phone. "Nawiwindang na ako."



I was doing my report but the thought of Baby Diego, smiling, showing off his tongue, leaping from one side of the bed to the edges of the mattress kept me from accomplishing anything. I was beset with gloom. 

On the phone, my mom tried to down play the situation, but you can sense her alarm by the sound of her voice. Knowing what's need to be done, I was already on my way when she asked for assistance. "They might need a down payment before admission." I thought. And knowing it will take ages before the matriarch can prepare, (she looks after Baby Lenin) my timely arrival eased the young couples' trouble.

The Favorite Aunt soon followed to make sure the patient is well attended. Being the only doctor in the family (and a caring relative who's always been there every time there is a medical emergency) her presence had wiped away every fear clung to my skin. 

"Hindi ko na pinapunta si Ate para hindi na siya mahirapan." She was referring to my mom. I saw her gently touching Baby Diego's forehead before a hunky nurse told us that the semi-private ward is ready for occupancy.

My nephew showed signs of improvement soon after we moved in. He began to smile again, crawl across the bed, stick his tongue out and even mimic the baby sounds we did. It felt like he had no illness at all. Our best guess was that he regained his strength after being re-hydrated.

The Favorite Aunt left at the same time provisions from home began arriving. After carting the bags and baby stuff from the lobby to the room upstairs, I told my sister that I'd be leaving as well. I have work at six the next morning, and our mother was eagerly awaiting news.

"Get well soon," I kissed my nephew goodbye. He smiled at me.



That night, my sister sent a text message.

"Please pray for Baby Diego," the message read. "Mataas ulit ang lagnat niya."


- tobecontinued-


In Your Dreams | Visions







Imagine.

Mankind sending massive solar panels to float in the sky. The size of a small town, the arrays are capable of harvesting sunlight enough to power a machine that creates clouds. Think of the solar arrays being positioned into orbit; into places across the planet that are in desperate need of water. With the rain maker high in the atmosphere, (carried there by balloons the size of jumbo jets) clouds begin to appear. Soon, wisps become Nimbus. Thunder and lightning follows. And then, just like nature does it, the ground flows the rivers of life. 

It is beyond my imagination how the apparatus can wipe out global famine, or stop bush fires from spreading. I do not know if it can ease the worse effects of heatwave or it can grow forests and jungles out of barren lands. It is beyond my thinking if it can resolve humanity's problems, especially its need for clean, drinking water. But who knows. We have eliminated Polio from the face of the earth and made correspondence faster with Internet. 

All I'm saying is that I had a vision, while looking at my seatmate's fancy Iphone as the vehicle we found ourselves crosses a dead river, in a city that is becoming less and less breathable with more lives it takes in.




Secretly







It must have been Bon Ivler's Stacks that first caught my attention, or the playlist where the song used to be a part of. It might have been the pictures of the city we both love (and loathe). Maybe it is our passion for history, our shared cat personality, the joy we get from sunsets and breathtaking urban landscapes, or our intimate knowledge of trivial facts. It is his interests that kept me returning to his Tumblr account. I remember saying, "he must be an amazing kid!" I kept the thought bubble to myself. In the folded layers of my heart, I longed for his attention. For his world could have been carved out perfectly from mine (or ours could be fused so perfectly, we can speak of the same objects with different perspectives). The quiet admiration in a time when the shaky union with someone else could anytime fall apart, blossomed underground, until one day, I decided to send a word on his Twitter account. I no longer remember the exact and carefully crafted thoughts or how he received my letter. Only the conveyance that we connect on so many levels and that, I look forward to getting to know him, more.



Every Vice Has A Price




O Bar, Ortigas


Strange how stage lights and full-blast speakers take your life a little, and yet, when mixed with high doses of booze and unnumbered sticks of nicotine, they keep you going when smoke-screened nights become a bitter aftertaste.

Do it again and again, and in no time your words will be laced with electronic dance music that speaks nothing but the emptiness that comes after a feel-good Progressive house set.


War Tunes



VI

No longer at the mercy of random encounters, I can now laugh at the thought of sex eye balls and even ditch the idea completely. One may point to the years of experience; of finally gaining supremacy over the pursuit of flesh.

But I didn't get there without stumbling, and doing regrettable acts this blog (and its previous reincarnation) have written. They may be hidden beneath the layers of sentimental and cerebral stories, but the memories bond - in songs and bittersweet flashbacks every time scenes and landscapes alter my perception. 

One such song reminds me of those misfits. It remains on my playlist, for it happens to be among my favorites. Every time the music player picks the track, memory harkens me back to a time when naughty games used to be the routine.




A history I cannot undo, along with the song's haunting vocals comes the memory of that wild abandonment.


The terrace where the opening salvo began was dark and the lights around us were switched off. Downstairs, a group of ladies were having late-night chats with their friends. In front was the panoramic view of Pioneer Street; with its glittering skyscrapers, sparkling billboards and office tower lattices that are still being constructed.

And there he was, between my legs. Sitting on a chair with my pants just above my knees, his head bobbed up and down the entire length of my manhood. His hand occasionally squeezed my wet and sticky shaft, I could only close my eyes in sheer ecstasy as he rolled his tongue around my cock.

It was good.

But it would have been better if it was done by someone manlier than me.


In the Name of Unholiness
January 16, 2008
Fullmetal Dreams

Artist: Deep Dish - Say Hello (Radio Edit)



Home Improvement



V.


All the maid has to do is tell me that our dust pan is broken. 

"Nasira? Paano?" Heaps of trash covered the floor. I decided to move the spilling garbage from the bins to the trash bags.  

The maid showed me the poor thing to prove her point. It's edges were torn. It's scooping capacity, reduced. 

The state of the dust pan didn't surprise me at all. I have seen it around the house for a decade and nobody thought of replacing it. 

They say it can still be used. 

However, the cleaning object's neglected state reflects how things are at home. The hampers are shredded, bars of soap rest on puddles. The helpers have grown used to such waste. Nobody pays attention. The matriarch keeps forgetting what needs to be replaced. The married couple doesn't care. 

So when I was told about the trash pan, I gave my word and said that it will be replaced the next day. After all, the matriarch has somehow acknowledged (despite my wicked habit of giving away and throwing stuff that are no longer needed) the part I play in keeping the house in order.

And so I bought a new pan at Uni-Top for 85 pesos, and replaced the wire and cotton mesh hampers with plastic ones from the same department store. Not yet satisfied with my home improvement itch, I went to Dapitan Arcade that afternoon to procure ceramic soap dishes and a soap pump for less than 2 hundred.


Hampers

Soap Dish


Dust Pans

Much is still needed to make the home improvement a worthwhile pursuit. Trash sorting is still disorganized, and the hoarders must be kept in-check before their unneeded stuff overruns the corridors.

To make the change permanent, and hopefully, be passed on to the next lords of the house, no longer can I stay idle while we let the kasambahays do all the back-breaking work.

"Ako na maghuhugas ng mga pinagkainan." It must have been music to their ears to hear those words for the first time.

I have this undying belief that I am an excellent home maker. While still unproven, I will start breaking that myth, and put my skills to good use.



Trekkie




IV.


Some of us have always known that the world used to spin in uneasy peace. There were the stars and stripes, and the hammer and sickle. Two global superpowers, whose array of Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles pointed at each other. Under constant threat of annihilation, people devised ways to put sense into their lives. There were the flower hippies, whose music, spoken words and non-protest protests had born a generation of pacifists. There were also the revolutionaries who wept and wailed in podiums, and in the streets, invoking rage from men demanding equality and justice.

As soldiers and guerrillas shot each other in the jungles of Vietnam in the name of ideological supremacy, and washer-sized machines lifted into space for scientific discoveries, the irony of the time had sparked an idea.

What if instead of mankind destroying the world, they become peaceful spacefarers who wished nothing but explore the galaxy?



That spark gave birth to what would become the Star Trek franchise. I was told the original series lifted the curtain of fear and opened the eyes of men to possibilities; of the what-ifs should nations and people were united in peace; and the color of one's skin never limits her aspirations in life. Sure, there were hostile alien civilizations, and galactic anomalies that threatened the Alpha Quadrant. But in Gene Roddenberry's imagination lies the promise that should mankind avoid self-destruction, we will sooner or later, leave the cradle that is earth and sail the ocean of stars aboard a space vessel similar to USS Enterprise.



I first thought that this blog would be about my attachment to the franchise, and how its massive fleet of starships had fascinated me at a young age. Later in life, I would recall playing Birth of the Federation on my desktop computer, and staying past midnight to watch an episode of Voyager before heading straight to Malate to resume my unceremonious binges.

There too were the scattered, fragmented recollections of watching Star Trek movies, in theaters and rented VHS cassette tapes. Most of these memories have been lost to oblivion - even the question of how I got hooked to the franchise will be forever unanswered. What endured, however, was the undying belief that we are meant to leave this soft ground to set foot on worlds not different from our own.

With the indoctrination successful, and with the news circulating lately about the contact between two commanders existing in alternate and present-day timelines, this post has gained significance. The story must now go beyond my own experience.



And thus, this post celebrates the vision of Star Trek, and how it continues to inspire others to study the heavens. In the early years of the series, when the episodes were seen in monochrome television sets and not on flat screens attached to room walls, not one among the casts would have ever imagined how the future would come too soon. Not Captain James T. Kirk or Commander Spock. And yet, in their lifetimes, they would receive a message transmission from a human outpost suspended half-way between the moon and the blue-planet's surface.



I still look at the faint lights in the night sky, and think of the Federation.



Shatner and Nimoy, the lead actors of the original series may never go to places where some men have gone before. But in their place are souls who were once silent and faceless witness to their voyages. 

And they remember. As we all do.


If the power of imagination rests in one's ability to turn dreams into reality, then Star Trek's vision has at long last, been fulfilled.




Highlights of 2012 at South Brunswick Public Library

2012 Highlights Final




This past year was bursting with lots of good news and tempered with some not so good news.



While Hurricane Sandy was surely not good news, it did remind residents without power that the South Brunswick Public Library has more to offer than just books, which was great news for them and for us!



Extensive power outages after the hurricane in October prompted extended operating hours and service for several days, bringing literally hundreds more residents through our doors as we operated as a day shelter and power charging station. Residents found needed power, heat, camaraderie, and resources during the crisis and the Library made a lot of new friends.



Another weather related celebrity graced us with a more enjoyable experience earlier in October. Channel 7 weatherman Bill Evans acted as our featured author for the Foundation’s annual Book & Author Dinner at Pierre’s Restaurant. Generous with his time, Bill stayed late into the night at the Foundation fundraiser, signing books and chatting with guests.



The Library’s usefulness after Sandy and throughout the year was recognized with a Community Partnership Award from the South Brunswick Board of Education. Also, longtime Library volunteers Lease and Ruth Ruddick were awarded a Certificate of Appreciation plaque from the Libraries of Middlesex for their many years of service to the Library and to the Friends of the Library.



Improved services for the public in several areas came to fruition in 2012. After a year of combined staff efforts our new website went live with a more interactive digital component. We built a new web site to include more user-friendly features and an extensive e-branch to keep up with today’s user needs and desires. A new print and pay system was installed to protect user privacy and also offer a color option for a few more cents.

Throughout 2012 our bi-monthly Compass newsletter went from 8 to 12 pages to accommodate the expanding variety of programs offered to the public. There has been an increase in programming for all ages and interests including tweens, technology, special needs, and ESL.



Programming highlights earlier in 2012 included the SB Reads partnership between the schools, Library and community featuring Alice in Wonderland. We expect to go from wonderland to fairytale land in 2013.



Thanks to combined efforts, the Friends’ Daphne Powell Concert Series presented not one but ten different musical performances in the library throughout the year. Thanks to combined efforts, the Friends’ Daphne Powell Concert Series presented not one but ten different musical performances in the library throughout the year. This program was funded in part by a grant from the Middlesex County Cultural and Heritage Commission and sponsored by the Friends of the S.B. P. L.



In the spring our partnership with Aging in Place prompted a community panel discussion on The Faith Club and was part of the Continuing Cultural Conversation Initiative.



Our bookmobile marked its 35th anniversary of curbside library service to the community in April.



We dedicated two collaborative murals in 2012. In February a Teen Mural was dedicated and now hangs in the Teen Computer Lab. Teens had worked many months to complete the collage of characters from popular literature for young adults. Adults in the Summer Reading program created panels puzzled together of Van Gogh’s Bedroom at Arles, which now brightens up the Computer Lab.



Three successful Foundation fundraisers and three Friends book sales were held. The Friends also began a successful partnership with the Defensive Driving program.



We welcomed new Board of Member Trustee Janet Campisano.



Although there was not much bad news in 2012, it surely was significant.



Sad and totally unexpected was the recent passing of SBPL Board President and community activist Ellen Gambatese, wife of Mayor Frank Gambatese. Ellen founded several of the Library’s successful fundraisers and was active in the Hugs for Brady organization, among many others. She will be sorely missed.



Of course the property damages to homes and power outages caused by Hurricane Sandy were bad news though we did all make the best of it together. Other not so good news would be the six furlough day closings in 2012, needed to stay within budget; as we will have to do again in 2013.



In 2013 we are looking forward to even more good news! To receive current Library news check the bi-monthly Compass newsletter, our website and social sites, and subscribe to our e-mail news blasts.



SBPL is proud to be the community’s Guide to Discovery for information, culture, continuing education, and entertainment. We thank the residents, town officials and partners for their continued support.

Poverty of the Gut




III.


Spent the holidays food binging and gym procrastinating. Ergo, I gained mass. I feel it every time I slip in my skin-tight jeans, and wear my medium-sized tees. Family pictures taken showed a much wider girth. My face is puffy. My arms, sagging. 

I returned to Eclipse on the second to reboot my progress. Tough love as Coach Blakedaddy said. It will take some time to undo those nights of reckless drinking and gluttonous eating. And I am not done yet. Parties still line my social calendar. I am still itching to go clubbing. To counter the spooky signs of obesity, I started walking to work again. I've also been abstaining on sugar, leaving my sweet tooth craving for chocolate cookies.

It will be an uphill climb this time. Metabolism has slowed down, and the strength I once had - when I was 28 - is no more. But to stir life into a seasonal campaign; to remind myself that I am bringing back the old times, the presence of an oatmeal lunch box on my work station may induce a poverty of the gut.


A Familiar Sight


But it's an unmistakable reminder that I intend to hit my target no matter the sacrifice. 



Double Take



I


Along the railway, between the train stations of Pandacan and Paco were tents perched not far from the rail tracks. These homes were patched using snatched tarpaulins and old cardboard boxes salvaged from the side of the road. 

When I saw them from inside the passing train, they seemed smaller than a German Shepherd's dog cage. A closer look however might reveal a roomier floor space than the junk pickers' wooden cart turned into sleeping quarters. 

As the tents disappear from my sight, thoughts float in the air. I wonder how many souls these homes shelter at night?


II.


Still along the rail tracks near San Andres was a waterway narrower than a two-person street alley. Along its banks were wild grasses taller than an average man. There were shrubs too and small trees not seen in that part of the city. They are thriving. 

They have altered the once-dead landscape.

Has the Kapamilya network's Bantay Ilog really succeeded in bringing the creek back to life, or I was being toyed by my audacious visions?  



Caulk Party

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Today, day 2 of our vacation, we tackled the sunroom. Before it was a puke looking green, with green floor, ceiling green, and it just reminded us of the *beep* that used to live here. So this morning, we got all dressed up (and for us while renovating that means showered and not in hobo-esk clothing) and went to breakfast at the Waffle House! After that we decided on a whim to go to a place called Orr Reed Wrecking Co to check out the cool old stuff they have, we were in heaven. We didn't buy anything today but we will for sure be back.

Once we stopped by the Restore (Habitat for Humanity place that sells cool things, and cheap paint supplies) we went to work. Primed the sunroom and started painting. The colors? Yellow for the walls, and navy blue for the floor. I'm pretty excited to see the end result on this one.

After priming the walls, ceiling and floor we decided this room was pretty revolting as far as the lack of caulk goes, so yes folks, we had a caulk party. We caulked E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G! Used about 6 tubes of caulk:




     Yes thats right folks, I am wearing war paint. We have declared war on this *beep* who used to live here.
                                                                BEFORE
                                                                      BEFORE
                                                                   BEFORE


Then we painted it the first coat of yellow, more tomorrow on the finished product. For now we are having some champagne and Whiskey to celebrate the engagement of my cousin Austin to a wonderful woman and the start of a new year!

CHEERS YALL!

Finished pictures to come tomorrow. :-)

The Cinderella of light fixtures

You know you are doing something right when your husband walks into the room yall just worked on for two days and says " WOW! IT LOOKS AMAZING IN HERE!" :-)  The dining room is finished, and we are so completely thrilled about how it turned out! We painted the ceiling, walls, one door, and re purposed our ugly light fixture.

The light fixture was an ugly-stupid-colored-with-stupid-looking-globes-crappy-ass-light-fixture.  So since we are poor, we decided to paint it and put in false hoity-toity light bulbs (edison bulbs, you remember when we were sitting in our kitchen drinking whiskey wearing sunglasses in awe of our newly found favorite $8 light bulb?) I do. Well, we spray painted the light fixture that made us want to puke before and now we are just so in love with it. Mind you, the bigger and more amazing Edison bulbs are about $10 a piece. * also, as a bonus our local Home Depot has a "coin star" type coin acceptor in the self check out line so we were able to take our mason jar filled with coins and it was enough to pay for two!

Here are some pictures of the dining room that is done!

PS. whenever you are taking down trim and crown molding always number or label the pieces so it makes it easier when you put it back in. Unless you just love puzzles, then why the hell not just scramble it all up.



Disclamer: the camera phone (thank you yet again jerk face who broke into our home and stole both our cameras) doesn't truly express the beautiful color the room is painted.

More to come tomorrow, 5 days off work together, this is so amazing.
 

A Bus Ride



I warned my mom the other day that we won't fit inside the Tamaraw FX. It's New Year's eve and our lifelong tradition says that we should all go to Favorite Aunt's place and spend the Media Noche there. But the stubborn matriarch insisted that we will all fit inside the car. She even accused me of setting up a romantic date with someone on New Year's eve and that's the reason I don't want to join.

Come New Year's eve and after all the bags were accounted, it turned out that there is just enough space for six adults and two kids. I told my mom that nothing could change the fact that we are just too many, and it would be insane to tell the maid and the driver's assistant to squeeze themselves against the wall of luggage at the back of the car.

Defeated, my mom let me go my own way. 

The jeep ride from my place in Santa Mesa to Edsa Crossing was uneventful. There were the rant tweets alongside the New Year greetings to friends on Twitter. Bipolar lang. When I arrived at the infamous crossing, my real journey began. I wasn't done yet with my grumbling when I saw the great mass of humanity converging along Edsa.

How will I get to my destination on time?

It didn't help that most of the south-bound buses will take the Skyway. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes, nothing going to Bicutan showed up. I was deeply alarmed that my seething temper will linger way past New Year. I don't want to spoil the jovial atmosphere, be seen with a foul mood, or go emo while everyone's having fun. I was told to eat ice cream to relax, others tweeted that I should chill.

Then came the bus. 

It was dilapidated; a machine that's almost falling apart. It reminded me of that hell-spawn Pascual Liner and Saint Rose buses that ply along the congested highway. It was packed to the brim - of workers - rushing to get home. I climbed the stairs only to learn that the available space was at the door. One sharp swerve and I imagined myself getting thrown out of the bus and into the pavement, with crushed bones and flattened skin after being ran over by other vehicles.

But I have to reach Bicutan.

"Konting urong lang po sa gitna." The bus conductor repeated so often, he could have recorded and played it on a cassette tape to save his voice.

"Yung hindi po magkasya ang katawan sa next bus na lang po." I felt like a sardine, sending tweets inside the can.

Lucky for us, the bus was slow moving. But every time it stopped, more people pushed themselves to get in. Soon, there was no more space that the bus conductor had to order the doors closed. We were approaching the Magallanes flyover. We must brace ourselves for the bus' 160 kph soar across the expressway.










There was a change in the wind's direction. No longer furious at what I had to go through, looking at the weary passengers made me feel that my gripes were nothing compared to what these people had to endure - everyday - just to get home. All those squeezing and shoving; a sun soiled worker's body odor wafting under your nose, the snail-paced march of vehicles along Edsa, the mad rush to be at the dining table for tonight's feast. I made a good call to let my co-worker - who lives in Laguna - to work from home. I finally understood what she meant when she would have to fight limb to limb just to get on a bus.

The cool breeze and the gentle swerving of the bus as it cruises SLEx had blown away the bad vibes I was carrying in Edsa. Siguro sa awa sa mga pasahero, and my rubbing elbows with them changed my perspective. Sabi ko nga sa isang kaibigan sa Twitter, the people here have no idea that I was telling their everyday experience. It humbled me to a point that I have completely forgotten why I was mad in the first place.

The bus stopped a few feet away from the Bicutan overpass. As the passengers from Manila get out, more people pushed themselves to get in. I guess for these commuters, the bus conductors and the bus drivers, these scenes are part of their everyday commuting. But for me, who seldom use brute force - to have things my way - the little eye-opener was heaven's way of saying that I should be grateful - still - for the perks I get.


A journey ends, as others begin. Each one reaches their destination, one way or another.



It is often that I only see my defeats, especially during this year-end reflection. But when put alongside humanity's collective struggles, it turns out that life isn't really about me or my failures and victories. It is about my blending in with others that makes my time - here on the planet - that matters.


Cheers to the year ahead.
Happy New Year! 

      


Dead animal, whiskey, and one hell of a day.


Okay folks. It has been a while since I have posted, honestly between Thanksgiving, and Christmas we haven't been doing to much work on the house. But today Preston and I decided to get crazy with it (seeing as we both had the day off) and on Preston's last day off he crawled under the house to work on the foundation and when he was finally feeling pretty good under the house all by him  self he turned his head and saw a half decomposed cat or something like it and had to get the hell out of dodge quick.  About two weeks later (today) his brothers came over for a little bit and we all went under the house to get the "thing" out.






















Once we were all suited up for the job we went under, and the boys had devised a plan:

                                           1. get under the house
                     2. using a rake, get the opossum into the Home Depot bucket lined with a trash can liner
                                           3. get it out.
Well, the first two things worked out well, however moving the bucket while keeping the petrified opossum inside the bucket proved harder than they realized. Since I was already back inside the house and since there is a opening to the underneath of the house in a spot in the house I was watching them struggle for a minute. When the bucket (with the opossum dangling out of it) was about a foot away, I just grabbed it with my gloved hands and got the damn thing out. After throwing it in the nearby dumpster we all washed our hands and proceeded to our next venture, finishing the dining room. It is still not finished, we got a little worn out, and had perhaps one too many shots of whiskey to do the best painting job ever.


Since we decided to work on the dining room, and of course I had to rip out the ceiling. We are using the same color for the walls as the Mammaw room so we (I) decided the corny nailed in stupid looking cheap tiles had to go. So I started off by taking all of them out, which filled up one entire trash can. after taking the tiles out there were a few scary places in the wooden ceiling, not to worry! That's why they make big gap filler though right? Right. There was actually a big enough hole that we could fit my phone into it and take pictures of what is above the wooden ceiling. :

   Inside the ceiling gap




The room Before
                                                                                           More from inside the gap


Opossum! Happy New Year!

Shelter Me From The Storm







Pinagkait man ng tahanang matutuluyan,
sa piling ng mga rehas na bakal
at malalamig na tubo ng Maynilad,
doon ay natagpuan ang
pansamantalang taguan sa
marahas at mapagtaboy na lansangan.



Specter



He was sitting at the far end of the table. He was wearing a grey shirt and a pair of jeans I must have held in the past - when he stayed home for sleep-overs. I looked at his direction, briefly, and there he was, drinking his beer while his eyes cast downward. 

He was browsing his phone.

I dropped by, unannounced at the party when a friend asked for intervention. He was having troubles wrestling his demons, and he thought my arrival might turn the tide in his favor. When I showed up, all eyes were on me. Some even walked closer, patted me on the back, hugged me tight, as he sat there, still glued to his seat.

"J," I said, as I tried to be casual, like nothing had come between us. For old time's sake, perhaps, or maybe to show everyone that there's no bad blood at all. 

He nodded in response.

Old times. It is for this reason I hastened downing my warm beer, while puffing sticks of Marlboro, like my throat wasn't hurting. I smiled. I tried having small talks with everyone, but at the back of my head, I was counting the minutes before my graceless exit.

"Kamusta ka?" He asked after toasting my bottle to his half-empty glass. 

"Ayos lang." I smiled, while walking slowly backwards. The conversation ended there.

Between the two words I was able to speak, and a hundred thoughts I wished to convey, all I remember now is his kinder, gentler face. The face I used to steal glances when he was across the table, having a meal. Or when I open my eyes in the morning, and find him sleeping beside me. Clipping my lips, I turned around to return to my seat. It's enough charade for one night. My friend is begging for us to leave.

It was never my intention to be a specter, or make everyone feel awkward. And should I have other choices, I would have bailed the tropa without crashing the scene, or cast a long ominous shadow over the unsuspecting revelers. But the friend asked to make the explanation on his behalf, for his sudden disappearance. I obliged.

After all the gestures and display of body language, and after successfully pulling out the tropa and returning him to his right state of mind, I say time and time that it's okay; that I had to come because much was at stake. But when I look back, and ask, what will linger for a long time.

It is the feeling... the fissures of the heart.

Blame my frailty for this confession. But that night vented what I have tried to keep within. For all the distance I claim to have covered, the truth remains. 

I have not moved at all.



The Ruddicks - Friends for Always




The Ruddicks are just good people. They are kind and giving to others, quick to smile broadly and offer a pat on the back. They are the kind of people who make good friends, especially award-winning Friends!

Local residents and South Brunswick Public Library volunteers Lease and Ruth Ruddick were recently awarded a Certificate of Appreciation plaque from the Libraries of Middlesex(LMx) for their many years of devoted service to the Friends of the South Brunswick Public Library.


“We do it because we love the Library,” explains Ruth, adult volunteer coordinator on the Friends Board. “We think the Library is a special place.”

The couple has been especially helpful in setting up and organizing items for the Friends sales held three times a year, as well as for the ongoing sale in the SBPL lobby. Library Director Chris Carbone says he is grateful for the pair’s efforts and proud of their LMx recognition.

Ruth and Lease have Life Long Memberships in the Friends of SBPL, a non-profit organization, composed of individuals, families, local businesses, and corporations whose mission is to support library services and programs.

“It’s a nice thing to do and you see the results,” Lease says of helping with the Friends book sales. “One hundred percent (of the money raised from sales) goes back to the Library.”

The book sales are also a good deal for the shoppers, Ruth pointed out, explaining that romance novels, for example, can be purchased 10 for a $1. “Where else can you buy a book for 10 cents?”

The couple spends about 20 hours the week of each sale, coordinating volunteers and sorting and stacking the hundreds of donated books and movies. And, on Tuesdays during the weeks in between sales they can be found doing general shelving and sorting and such.

Lease, a retired civil engineer from AT&T, says “it’s not a big commitment” to help the Friends, plus it’s a nice social outlet especially for retired folks.

While Lease and Ruth have been volunteers for several years now, she has been a part of the Library for much longer. She worked at the Library for 26 years before retiring in 2001, serving as Head of Circulation for the last 15 years of service. She hired many of the current staff, including our current Director Chris Carbone when he was just a college student.

"Working quietly to do good, Ruth and Lease Ruddick have played an enormous role in the success of our book sales. They have contributed endless hours helping to screen and organize our donations before most of the volunteers have their bite of the apple," says Friends President Susan Edelman, adding, "They never toot their own horns. They are intrinsically motivated, not drawing attention to their achievement. I commend LMX for its wisdom in selecting the Ruddicks for this honor."


When not at the Library the Ruddicks enjoy healthy endeavors such as regular trips to a local gym and buying produce through a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) program at Honey Brook Farm, which they’ve done for about 20 years now. Since retiring Lease has learned canning skills to preserve the CSA produce for gifts and home. They also enjoy listening to books on tape (borrowed from the Library of course!) for long drives to the Adirondack Mountains.

In February they will gear up for another big Friends book sale – the Love Them and Read Them sale on Feb. 16 and 17.


Joining the Friends of SBPL:
Join or renew your Friends membership in-person at the Library during operating hours or online anytime for as little as $10 a year.  To learn more or to join/renew online now, go to http://www.sbpl.info/help-the-library/friends/. Watch for upcoming details on the For-Friends-Only Annual Membership Tea.  In addition to the Annual Membership Tea, Friends also enjoy perks such as coupons for fines and coupons for free movie rentals. The higher the membership the greater the perks!


-30-





More Good Movies You Might Have Missed...

Hi Everyone,

If you're like me and you don't have any spectacular plans for New Year's Eve, why not stay off the roads and plan a fun night of movie watching at home? Try one (or all) of these fun movies from our collection:

               Your Sister's Sister

  Directed by Lynn Shelton. Starring Emily Blunt, Mark Duplass, Rosemarie DeWitt.  Having trouble coming to terms with the death of his brother, Jack accepts his friend Iris' invitation to her family's cabin for some time alone, but Iris is unaware that her sister Hannah is staying at the cabin to get over a breakup with her longtime girlfriend. Rated R 2011. ComedyDrama.



                 Toast

Directed by S. J. Clarkson. Starring Ken Stott, Helena Bonham Carter, Victoria Hamilton, Freddie Highmore.  Based on the autobiography of English foodwriter Nigel Slater. A delicious love letter to the tastes and smells that a young boy associates with his journey into adulthood. Nigel's mother was always a poor cook, and her addiction to all things canned isn't helping. Nigel, on the other hand, laps up cookbooks as if they were porn, and spends all his free time gazing longingly at the delights offered at Percy Salt's grocery shop. Not rated. 2010.  Comedy.


      Kissing Jessica Stein


Directed by Charles Herman-Wurmfeld.  Written by and starring Jennifer Westfeldt and Heather Juergensen. Also starring Scott Cohen, Jackie Hoffman, Tovah Feldshuh.

Fed up with her fruitless search for "Mr. Right" and tired of blind dates from hell, attractive journalist Jessica Stein whimsically responds to a classified ad-- from Helen! Making and breaking new rules of dating as they go, the two women muddle through an earnest but hilarious courtship that blurs the lines between friendship and romantic love. Rated R. 2002. Comedy.

Hey, beats watching the ball drop...


Happy New Year!

Jill Eisner
Sr. Librarian
Information Services

Parting Gift



She wakes up in the morning when everyone upstairs is still asleep. As the guardian of the little one, she gets out of the sofa, washes her face, and takes the baby from the sleeping parents. The little tyke closes his eyes before everyone does at night. But his sound slumber doesn't mean the end of her work. Sometimes she stays up until midnight to pacify the tantrums of the older one. Some late evenings, she helps the matriarch climb the stairs when my arms are not around to lift her from the chair. 

Whatever I know about her came from other sources. She was twenty five, has five young kids - three of them living with their father. A kasambahay even said that she put one for adoption. Another said she took care of children, whose parents worked in a mining firm. For all her hard work, it took months before we finally spoke. To have conversations. I often distrust outsiders and seldom do I pay attention to non-families at home. 

Despite her tireless dedication; the monotonous days when her eyes are glued to the children; the feeling of being left out when the family eats at a restaurant and she has to tag along as the nanny; what stuck in my head was the time she self-medicated the elder kid by dispensing an adult cough syrup. The incident remained our point of divergence. 

It has never changed ever since.

The rare small talks however didn't stop me from knowing her a little. From overheard conversations, to quiet observations, she revealed herself as human as she could ever be. She goes out for a drink with the lesbian driver when stress knocks her sanity. She tells about her little boys, who has never set foot in a shopping mall. Once, she mentioned that my nephew's broken toys (the ones I hid in the trash bin) are playthings for her children. She even lost all her belongings when her father torched her small house. When asked for the reason of her father's malevolence, she said it's his way of turning to ash the vile memory of her estranged husband.

Trivial, her stories were. But it was these little gems of knowledge that I held close to my chest. Who would have thought at a young age, our nephews' nanny had gone through the most unimaginable of tribulations. Thinking of her children alone - the youngest - as old as my elder nephew, living in sordid, lonely condition in the plains of Tarlac makes me feel how blessed our boys are.

It is this thought, stubbornly marked in my head that lead my feet to the corners of Carriedo. Christmas is a time of giving. What better way to put a smile on someone's face by showing one's generosity where it matters deeply.



Permanence, no matter how we desired was never the nanny's intention. She announced her end of service a few weeks before Christmas. She must go home. Unsure I am, if she spared some thoughts of coming back. With better offers elsewhere, and mouths to feed at home, practicality must reign over emotions.

What I am certain of is her heart is torn apart when thinking of her separation with our kids.

"Higa mo na lang si Diego sa crib." I found her one morning, sleeping next to the younger. Her arms clutching the baby tight.

"Hayaan niyo na kuya," She said in a soft voice. "Hanggang bukas na lang po ako." Respecting her decision, I continued walking, wordlessly, until I reached the stairs.

The nanny departed the next day with farewells and well wishes that lasted longer than the other nannies before. For in our hearts, despite her shortcomings, we felt her sincerity in watching over our little ones.

Knowing that she will return to her kids, whose lives are more uncertain than ours, there was an unspoken consensus at home. Maybe our spirits are fused together when making those who serve us feel at home.


Mom and sister each have their own gifts


The nanny will never come back. But in her heart and those of her sons, a little parting gift in behalf of our little boys - she loved so much - will make them remember.


From Aloy en Totoy (Diego and Lenin)


It is in the spirit of giving that we make life enriching.

Merry Christmas, Everyone!



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