Echo

This blog is called "Echo" basically because it echoes whatever I write in my other blog. But in the interest of saving time, energy, and sanity, I will discontinue this blog and just stick to my other blog. I should’ve done this a long time ago! LOL!

So come check me out at Credo Quia Absurdum instead.

   Had dinner and had a long warm shower. I feel exhausted. I cried in class tonight, well, after class.

So
there we were, talking about Conflict Theory and Functionalism - how
the dominant class imposes universal norms on the subordinate class,
creating false consciousness that fosters a hegemony. It was
unavoidable, then, to talk about the different classes and how people
who earn less usually go to schools that do not provide a curriculum
that is as challenging and fulfilling as the curriculum of the schools
where the more economically advantaged go. In effect, in a
functionalist society, "poor" kids get "bad" education, and therefore
land low-paying jobs; while "rich" kids get "good" education, and
therefore land high-paying jobs. The "poor" remain "poor," the "rich"
remain "rich." However, functionalists argue that if an individual
tries "hard enough," he/she will eventually succeed. Conflict Theory
(which yes, borrows a lot from Marxism) says that this isn’t
necessarily true, therefore the subordinate class must create conflict
to instigate change.

The discussion turned into the role of
education in our functionalist society and the roles we, as teachers,
take in the propagation of one theory over the other. One of my
classmates said that while it is unfortunate that class dictate who
becomes successful in life, at the end of the day, she would prefer a
surgeon who had good grades in school rather than a surgeon who did
so-so in school - and in effect, choosing the surgeon who came from a
"good" school.

Another classmate, however, felt that grades
did not necessarily reflect the skill of a person in the real world. He
gave himself as an example. He said that he did poorly in school, but
he thinks he’s doing pretty well as a teacher. He even went so far as
to say, "I wouldn’t want a teacher who had a 4.0 GPA in college to go
near my kids. He wouldn’t know how to speak to my daughter."

Well.

I
might not have gotten a 4.0 GPA, but I did pretty well in school. I
would’ve been excellent had Math not been a requirement (curse you,
Mathematics!) and I am now maintaining a 4.0 GPA in grad school (whew,
no more Math.) But I don’t want my performance in school to be held
against me. Bad grades should not be used to make untrue and hasty
generalizations about people’s performance in the real world - and
neither should good grades! I told him that it was unfair to make those
statements, especially since it implied that I would not be an
effective teacher. Schooling is not the only factor that influences a
person’s ability. I grew up in a third world nation where good
education is a luxury, even though it is said that it is a right.  Does
that not at least affect my effectability in the classroom with regards
to being able to reach out to the students who are doing poorly in
school? Also, those of you who know me personally and intimately know
what I had to go through in the past. I think that that should be
enough grounds to say that I would know "how to speak" to that that
guy’s daughter. Bad grades do not a person make, and neither do good
grades. I refuse to believe that my being a good student deters me from
being a well-rounded person! I told him that he should not be making
generalizations about one extreme while desiring not to be held against
the generalizations made about the other extreme.

Suddenly,
Mark (not his real name), another classmate of mine said he had had it
with the generalizations made in class. He took offense with how the
class was using words like "They" and "Them" to stress how the
subordinate class was this entity that was so separate from who they
were ("they" meaning my classmates.) As a teacher in a racially diverse
school, he felt that the least the class could do was to name "them" if
they were going to talk about "their" situation. African American.
Latino. Asians. Poor.

Well, that opened a nasty can of worms.
Immediately, my other classmates went on the defensive. He was telling
the class the disappointment he felt and the others took it against
him. Up until that point in class, I was limiting myself to the
theoretical arguments about functionalism and conflict theory. There
were a lot of generalizations going around and I chose not to play the
race chip, even though there were only two other girls who were not
white (one was African American, the other was Latina.) I always find
it interesting (to put it mildly) to watch white people talk about
racism and class inequality and see them talk about it passionately. I
often wonder what they would feel like if they were the ones who were
different. But here was a white man (and in any society, that is the
best representative of any dominant class: educated, white, male) and
he was standing up for me and the other "people of color"! He was a
virtual stranger, but I felt as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

At
one of the lulls that followed the heated arguments, I said that there
is a difference between intent and effect. While the others might not
have intend their words to have that effect, the effect is undeniable.
Mark was offended, and frankly, so was I. He just had the chutzpah to
say it, I didn’t. And in the final analysis, I think effect is more
important. Intent is debatable, effect is undeniable. I couldn’t understand how my classmates’ resentment over the perceived accusation of some mild form of racism takes precedence over Mark’s real offense to the language my classmates inadvertently used.

The
class ended soon after that because we really were at a standstill.
Tempers were flaring and it was really very uncomfortable. When
everyone was filing out, I shook his hand and said, "Thank you." I
meant to say more, but I couldn’t let go of his hand and I started to
cry. I was so overwhelmed by his bravery to speak up for someone who
was so unlike him. Finally, since I couldn’t let go of his hand
(because I could hardly stand anymore), he hugged me and he said,
"Thank you."

Wow.

School’s definitely back. I wrote this as a requirement
for a class. We were asked to think about "nation" - what it means, how
is formed, etc. I ended up writing this. I wasn’t bargaining on it
being this personal, but there you go.

I can’t wait to go back home.

* **
 

My family and I moved to Grand Rapids on 2001. I had just graduated from college and idealism was flowing quite healthily through my veins. I did not
want to move to the States – at the point when we moved, I had already
begun living on my own and I wanted to stay behind and do my own thing
in the Philippines. Kicking and screaming though, I joined my family.

I never shared my fellow Filipinos’ fascination with the US. I have tons of kababayans (Filipino for “countrymen.” Bayan means “country.” The prefix ka-
is the same as “co-" in “co-worker”) living illegally in this country
because it promises more money, more stability, and more opportunities
for growth. I, on the other hand, am afflicted with the haughtiness
that comes with the city-born and bred upper-middle class. Growing up,
I already had money, I already had stability, and I already had
opportunities for growth. Instead of viewing America
as a land of opportunity, I thought it was the land of excess. I
resented it because my country always saw itself as inferior in
relation to America.  

When
9/11 happened, my heart went out to those who died and to those who
were left behind. To combat the growing hatred against foreigners that
came in its aftershock, I remember seeing an ad campaign airing over
and over again. A diverse bunch of individuals were saying the words,
“I am an American.” They managed to pick individuals that looked
nothing like each other, and their message was clear: stop picking on
the foreigners. Despite best efforts though, for the first time in my life, I felt horribly different. Suddenly, we were the enemy just because we were different. We live in Grand Rapids, and we couldn’t be more different than all the other Van Somethings and De Somethings.

I decided to go back home after just 6 months in the US.
When I got back home, I embraced my idealism with vim and vigor. I was
determined to make something of myself, and I tried to turn my back
away from my bourgeoisie background. What I ended up doing was a
compromise between my idealistic and pragmatic self: I became a
teacher, I helped shape the next generation…in an exclusive,
prestigious, and expensive Catholic all-boys high school. I was
teaching boys who had pretty much the same hoity-toity background I
have, but I wanted them to realize that they could and should go beyond
that. I still wonder how effectively I was able to do that.

Now that I live here in Grand Rapids
again, with my husband, and as a full time graduate student, I can’t
say I feel entirely different. I still harbor the same resentments I
had before, albeit now with a tinge of sadness. It was a sad day when I
grew old enough to realize that my parents were human and made mistakes
– it’s the same now that I see that America isn’t so great after all. I am more forgiving of the US and its citizens. Ignorance more than hatred fuels so many of its
people and while it is a constant struggle to remind myself to rise
above the situation, I know I need to; the scornful look, the hushed
voices, or worse, the quasi-benign, overly-saccharine smiles of
condescension notwithstanding.

The
concept of a nation is such a tricky idea to define because people are
no longer limited by borders. My being over and beyond the borders of
my country has made me think more about my nation and my nationality
more. I now look and think about my nationality in terms of how it is
shaped by my being here. It’s snowing again outside and I’ll probably
have another bowl of cold cereal for breakfast and that’s about as
un-Filipino as my morning can get (oh, to have the warmth of a muggy,
tropical sun, and the smell of roasting garlic and rice!) But I am
grateful to be here, to study, to be outside my comfort zone, so that I
could go back home and hopefully be a better teacher. 

I
believe that a nation relies mostly on its people for its identity and
I struggle with this because I am trying my best to define who I am in
the context of my home country and the country that now educates me –
so that I may educate my own people. I am but one person, but I know I
help define my nation; in the same way I know that one racist (insert
swear word) does not define this nation.

I
am not a proper example of the majority of my people. Too many of us
are hungry for food, education, attention, and the chance to make a
better life. I listen to my classmates who teach in cushy districts and
they complain of inattentive students and I think about the children
back home who have to make do with the shade of a mango tree for a
classroom. And they have to compete with ants to sit on the muddy soil
underneath it. I think of the teacher who teaches 50-70 students at a
time for a pittance, who chooses to remain in the country to teach
despite the exodus of other teachers to become domestic helpers in
countries far and away. But we laugh, and boy how we laugh. And we
dream, and we have big dreams.

Though I hate to do it, I must: In relation to the US, the Philippines is a poor nation. It is small, it is easier to ignore its needs.
Someday though, I hope when we do become great, it won’t be a relative
greatness, we’ll be great just because we are. That is my big dream.

I actually wrote this paper for a class I’m currently taking. I just
thought I’d write it here since it echoes one of my pet causes: racial
equality and the sometimes-futile attempts it has to go through.

It’s
a look at the colonial history of America, how the "White Man" came and
claimed the land of the "Red Skin" - in the process almost destroying
the Native American culture.
***

When I first started reading Hope Leslie,
I was a little confused. All the while, I thought that Hope Leslie was
the name of the girl on the cover. The book keeps referring to Hope
Leslie as the heroine, but I cannot help but be more intrigued with
Magawisca, the Native American girl who, I suppose, is represented in
the cover. She has an arrogance that is all-together appealing, both in
form and manner: “Her from was slender, flexible, and graceful; and
there was a freedom and loftiness in her movement which, through
tempered with modesty, expressed a consciousness of high birth”
(22-23). A follower of physiognomy would rejoice in seeing her.

I
say arrogance and not pride, because she does have a sense of being
better than the Puritans. Other novels have ventured so far as to put
"Red Skins" and the "White Skins" on somewhat equal footing – one race
is better at something in which the other race is bad and vice versa –
but Magawisca shows Indian Superiority for a change. Hers is an
arrogance based on the knowledge that her race is more superior than
others. Her arrogance frustrates others in the book: Jennet in
particular, but then, almost everything frustrates her (and whenever it
does, I am inwardly pleased, I should confess…) But I find her
arrogance so fascinating.

Her love for the Fletchers does not
diminish this arrogance, but it is strong enough that she stands up
against her father in defense of that love. For a while even, I thought
that romance was in store for Everell and Magawisca. Alas, as Everell
tells Digby, “Yes, Digby, I might have loved her – might have forgotten
that nature had put barriers between us” (224). And yet nature was not
a barrier big enough for Magawisca to show ultimate love – that she was
willing to risk her very life and was fortunate enough to just lose a
limb. Even in this very act of sacrifice, Magawisca shows her
superiority.

Later on, as Hope becomes a more multi-dimensional
character, I am reminded of Magawisca. Compared to Magawisca and her
“savage” family, Hope is more temperate. She has the advantage of
belonging to a “civilized” society. But to her new-found family and
friends, Hope is too impulsive and not puritan enough: “Her religion
was pure and disinterested – no one, therefore, should doubt its
intrinsic value, though it had not been coined into a particular form,
or received the current impress” (128).

It is through Magawisca
and Hope that I see the struggle between the Native Americans and the
Puritans. First, they compete for Everell (though not so overtly as to
resemble a mere “trashy” love novel) and then they compete for Mary
(since she never really embraced her conversion, I shall continue
calling her Mary). Magawisca agrees to help the two sisters meet, but
it is obvious that Mary has no intention of going back. Hope tries her
best to convince Mary with her rings, but even this backfires as it
becomes telling of the infatuation of her race with triviality.
Magawisca asks, “Shall I ask your sister to barter truth and love, the
jewels of the soul, that grow brighter and brighter in the land of
spirits, for these poor perishing trifles? – Oh, Hope Leslie, I had
better thoughts of thee” (240).

Later on, when Magawisca is
put on trial, her arrogance, again, shines through. “I am your
prisoner, and ye may slay me, but I deny your right to judge me. My
people have never passed under your yoke – not one of my race has ever
acknowledged your authority” (302). And when a Bible is put to her,
instead of being intimidated, she replies, “I know…that it contains thy
rule, and it may be needful for thy mixed race; but the Great Spirit
hath written his laws on the hearts of his original children, and we
need it not” (303). With this arrogance she stuns and wins most of the
crowd perhaps because the crowd sees a self-importance they wish they
had. It is the self-importance of one who is not necessarily strong
enough to force others out of their homes. It is the self-importance of
one who knows that the land has always been and always will be
rightfully theirs, no matter what law is written.

In the
end, it is Hope that Everell loves, but it is Magawisca that Mary
chooses. Both lose and win and forever part ways. Hope clings to the
idealism akin to her name – that Magawisca live with them, that they
“walk in the same path” (349). But Magawisca is more pragmatic and
says, “My people have been spoiled – we cannot take as a gift that
which is our own – the law of vengeance is written on our hearts – you
say you have a written rule of forgiveness – it may be better – if ye
would be guided by it – it is not for us – the Indian and the white man
can no more mingle, and become one, than day and night” (349).

Hope
Leslie shows me probably why these two races just did not live in
harmony. They are too culturally different with their beliefs and
practices; and they are too intrinsically similar with their conviction
that theirs is the more superior race.

I enter a room with my eyes cast down because I don’t want to meet anyone’s gaze. Or worse, I don’t want to see people deliberately looking down in the futile attempt to not stare. I always manage to get to class really early so that I get first dibs on the front seat because, well, my eyes are especially bad under fluorescent lights, and so that I won’t have to see everyone staring at me.

That’s Grand Rapids racism for you. Polite, Dutch, and so underhanded that it sinks under your skin until you virtually wallow in their politeness. And oh how they seem to gloat and bask under the foolish notion that by being polite they are being diverse. So Polite. "Oh, I knew a Filipino once. Isn’t that funny?" Hahaha. LOL. ROTFL. ROTFI’mfrikkinL. So bloody polite.

Discussions are worse. There are so many things I would like to say, but I can’t say it. I find my classmates are surprised that I can say so much, so they are rendered silent. Or my "unaccented" English (read: I pronounce the words according to what is written in the dictionary - oh totally mea culpa…*poop*) makes it difficult for them to understand what I’m saying, so they are rendered silent. Or, oddly enough, my having taught in a third world country for three years with resources that pales in comparison to theirs, has actually given me richer experiences, so I am rendered silent. I am rendered silent because I am in a room full of teachers who keep complaining about the system or work load or whatnot - and I am rendered silent because these people have no clue how lucky they are.

I am tearing up as I write this and I don’t know why. No, I do know why. Can you imagine what the Philippines can accomplish if only we were given access to the same kind of resources? It is unfair and I want to childishly stomp my foot at all the powers that be that make it difficult and impossible for our children to gain access to quality education.

I am also soooo frustrated with my classmates! They complain and complain and complain - and yet they have so much already! They feel as if the school administration, the government, the WORLD owes them so much because they are citizens of the strongest nation of the world. They should use their strength to champion the cause of the weak.

I thought that was why we became teachers in the first place.

I am so disheartened.

Yes, tomorrow I shall probably be better. I’ll use this to motivate me to work harder to somehow put all of this to use so that I could make things better back home. But right now, I just want to be really, really, really frustrated.

My dad and I were watching the Today Show this morning and they did a
feature on this 18-year old kid who bought farmland with the help of
his family and neighbors in a small farming town in Massachusetts.

One
of his neighbors wanted to retire from farming, but didn’t want to sell
it to some corporation that would only transform his farmland into
houses and whatnot. So he sold it to the kid that helped him out every
summer. He was offered millions by those big corporations. He sold it
to the kid for only $32,000.

Now the kid is selling produce from
his farm and his neighbors help him out by buying from him. He’s
keeping his town real, upholding their identity and celebrating its
bounties.

He didn’t go to college anymore. Some people might not
dig that, but he’s too busy digging into his own plot of land to care.
This is what he believes in and he’s sticking to it. It might not be
glamorous nor convenient, but he’s sticking to it.

***

An
uncle and an aunt recently became bona fide American citizens. My dad
and I were talking about it this morning and, like me, he doesn’t want
to be an American citizen - especially because it means that by doing
so, you have to denounce your
original citizenship. (Of course, you can always apply for dual
citizenship, but that comes later on, I believe.) That is something
neither my dad nor I would like to do.

I had a conversation with someone back in the Philippines and he was telling me about the beauty of
America, the land of opportunity, and how, since I’ll be living here
for a while, I should be taking advantage of that to the fullest
extent. (Now there’s something
I haven’t heard before. Ooh.) I was trying to explain that my intention
was to study, maybe work a while, but Chaddy and I wouldn’t want to
settle here for good. We don’t want to raise our children here
entirely. Canada, maybe, but not here.

He said I should stay long enough to be a citizen. (Again, how novel! Where do
people come up with such capital ideas???) And I said, no, thank you, I
don’t want to be a citizen. And then he gave me this look. Mind you, we
had just met, and he gave me a
look like, "You must be one of those crazy, flaming, liberals…" Well,
yes, I probably am, but no matter. He gave me a look. And we had just met.

And then he said, "Well, Bush won’t be president forever. Your views might change."

And I said, "No, not really."

And he said, "But maybe when you have kids, it’ll be different."

And I said, "We specifically do not want to raise our kids there."

And he said, "Maybe your parents will petition you."

And I said, "They would, but then I’ve already told them I didn’t want to be a citizen, so they’ve let go of that."

And he said, "Think of all the conveniences! For one, you can get to travel anywhere and not need a visa!"

And I said, "Why do something just for the convenience? If something is too convenient, why would it be worth doing?"

And he did: Blink-blink. Naubusan ata.

"It’s a principle thing," I said.

And
he let go of it either because (a) he had to go, (b) he knew he was
going to be in for quite an earful if he asked further, or (c) I would
have to get physical with him, even in the teensiest way, be it hurling
a few spittle his way from my angry, frothing, liberal mouth.

See,
this is what I don’t understand. I get why others would like to be
citizens. Totally get it. But I don’t want to be a citizen. I don’t
force other people to subscribe to my liberal beliefs (hee-haw said the
Democratic donkey…) We can engage in healthy debate, yes, but at the
end of the day, I don’t want to force people to have the same beliefs
and dreams. I don’t see why someone else has to force his dream on me.

My
dream is to teach kids how to read and write well. My dream is to have
kids who are articulate, compassionate, open minded, God-fearing, and
(eek) liberal. My dream is to grow old with Chaddy, laughing and crying
all the way. While location may not be that important - here, there,
Canada, Tegucigalpa, Seychelles - I do not want to get rid of my
citizenship. When I die, I will die a Filipino.

I am a Filipino by birth and deed and heart. I might not have chosen to be a Filipino, but I choose to remain a Filipino.

I am not a Filipino because of convenience; if it is too convenient, then why would it be worth doing?

From Kaia

In the interest of handling my jet lag responsibly…

1. Have you ever been asked out?
Yup.

2. Where was your headshot taken?
Sarah’s - that small sari-sari store cum isawan cum tambayan near U.P. on C.P. Garcia.

3. What’s your name?
Katrina Rachel N. Navarrete

4. Your current relationship status?
Newlywed.

5. Does your crush like you back?
Most of them don’t know I exist! Haha.

6. What is your current mood?
Sleepy and hungry.

7. What color is your room?
Some kind of brown. But we’ll be painting over it soon.

8. What color shirt are you wearing?
Olive green.

9. Honestly, if someone were to tell you how they felt, would you listen?
Of course, why, you wouldn’t?

10. If you could go back in time and change something, what would you change?
I’d break up with someone far sooner than I did.

11. If you must be an animal for one day, what would you be?
Our dog, Sushi.

12. Ever had a near death experience?
Yup!

13. Something you do a lot?
Read and write.

14. The song stuck in your head?
Knowing There Is Only Now, Cynthia Alexander. I literally woke up with that song in my head.

15. Who did you copy and paste this from?
Kaia Aguas. (Tenkyu!)

16. Name someone with the same birthday as you?
I don’t know…I know someone whose birthday is before and after mine…I know that Gregorio Del Pilar died on my birthday…

17. When was the last time you cried?
Last Sunday.

18. Have you ever sang in front of a large audience?
Yeah.

19. If you could have one super power what would it be?
Stop time.

20. What’s the first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
Hands and feet, or shoes, if they’re wearing shoes.

21. What do you usually order from Starbucks?
Soy latte.

22. What’s your biggest secret?
Hah.

23. Favorite colors?
Dark pink and light pink.

24. Have you realized anything in the last few days?
Definitely. (You didn’t ask naman what. Tsss. Dapat may follow up.)

25.  What are you eating..drinking right now?
Nothing.

26. Miss someone?
Terribly.

27. Do you speak any otherlanguage?
- Filipino, English, a bit of Spanish, kabalo ng Bisaya, dili makasabot. (??? I’ve never had to spell that before…)

28. What’s your favorite smell???
New baby yawn. Chaddy’s bagong ligo smell.

29. Describe your life in one word what it be?
One word? Just one word? Clearly, I will not be able to answer that in just one word!

30. Have you ever kissed in the rain?
Haha, my first kiss was in the rain!

32. What are you thinking about right now?
What to cook for breakfast.

33. What should you be doing?
Sleeping some more.

34. Who was the last person that made you upset/angry?
I’d rather not say.

35. How often do you pray?
Every day.

36. Do you like working in the yard?
If it means just watering the plants, yeah.

37. If you could be with anyone in the world who would it be?
Chaddy.

38. Do you act differently around the person you like?
No.

39.  What is your natural hair color?
Some kind of dark brown.

40. Who was the last person to make you cry?
My brother, when I had to leave him in the Philippines.

From Third who got it from Kaia…

Let others know a little more about yourself, repost "_______OLOGY"

Q: What is your salad dressing of choice?
A. Blue Cheese

Q: What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
A. Hmmm. They’re all the same to me.

Q: What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
A. Cibo. Chicken Bacolod. Pancake House (funnily, for their spaghetti, not their pancakes.)

Q: On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
A. It’s directly proportional to the service and the displayed IQ of the waiter.

Q: What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of it?
A: Sinigang na anything, man.

Q: What are your pizza toppings of choice?
A. Cheese, anchovies, shrimp…just no pineapples please.

Q: What do you like to put on your toast?
A. Buttered sugar or sugared butter.

TECHNOLOGY

Q: What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A. Snoopy on a typewriter on top of his dog house. Get it? He’s on a typewriter, I’m on the computer…

Q: How many televisions are in your house?
A. 3

BIOLOGY

Q: Are you right-handed or left-handed?
A. Right

Q: Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A. Yes. Teeth count, right?

Q: What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A. My luggage from the Philippines.

Q: Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
A. I’m not sure…

BULLCRAPOLOGY

Q: If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A. No way.

Q: If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
A. I happen to like my name, so I’d probably make it Rachel Katrina. Hah.

Q: What color do you think looks best on you?
A: White. But since that’s technically not a color, pale pink.

Q: Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
A. By mistake? No.

Q: Have you ever saved someone’s life?
A. I don’t think so.

Q: Has someone ever saved yours?
A.
Yeah, my brother and I almost drowned when we were young. The local
kids, the kids that do the fancy-schmancy diving to get pearls, those
were the ones that saved our namby-pamby behinds.

DAREOLOGY

Q: Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
A. Sure.

Q: Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000
A. No. I like getting manicures. :-p

Q: Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A. Nah. I have waaay too much to say. I’d stop if Oprah ceases to be rich. Because after that, what else is there to talk about?

Q: Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
A. Haha, sure. Trouble is, nobody would buy the magazine except for my husband!

Q: Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
A. I may have already done it for free. Dang.

Q: Would you, without fear of punishment, take a humans life for $1,000,000?
A. It’s not the punishment that stops me. It’s the whole, oh-you-know, God thing. Sigh…

DUMBOLOGY

Q: What is in your left pocket?
A. Lint.

Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
A. Yessssssssss.

Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A. Both.

Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A. I stand and sometimes crouch.

Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
A. Uh…my husband might see this…so I’m gonna say…3…on rotation…

Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A. A few days ago. But I went up to him to ask for directions.

Q: What do you want to be when you grow up?
A. Happy.

Q: Who is number 1 on your top 8?
A. Chaddy

LASTOLOGY

Q: Friend you talked to?
A. Phone: Sara. YM: Basha.

Q: Last person who called you?
A. My mom.

Q: Person you hugged?
A. Jeromey.

Q: Person you kissed?
A. My dad, when he picked me up from the airport. Chaddy’s not here with me yet.

FAVORITOLOGY

Q: Number?
A. 14

Q: Season?
A: Autumn.

CURRENTOLOGY

Q: Missing someone?
A. Chaddy, my other brother, my ghels, Sushi.

Q: Mood?
A. Jet lag-ish sleepy.

Q: Listening to?
A: Spider Pig. (I
recorded the sound clip from the Internet onto my phone. Think movie
pirate inside a movie house with a camera. Hehe. That’s how J my new
ringtone is now. Haha!)

Q: Watching?
A. TV’s off.

Q: Worrying about?
A: Honestly? Lindsay Lohan. Poor girl talaga.

RANDOMOLOGY

Q: First place you went this morning?
A. Kitchen to wash the dishes.

Q: What can you not wait to do?
A. Pick Chaddy up from the airport.

Q: What’s the last movie you saw?
A. The Simpsons!

Q: Do you smile often?
A. Oo naman. May sound effects pa.

Q: Are you a friendly person?
A. Most of the time…but it generally depends on mood, wind chill factor, aesthetic quotient, and phase in ovulation.   

I just got a message from someone about my recently concluded wedding.
No, not, "Congratulations." Not, "Tell us all about it." Not, "Who’s
the guy?"

"What????
You got married and you didn’t even tell us? You didn’t invite us?" (Us
meaning old friends from the place where I used to work, like, 10
million years ago.)

I was supposed to respond, but I didn’t trust myself to be polite. But here, I’ll respond here. Tutal that what-rhymes-with-witch can enjoy relative anonymity here.

AT SINO KA BA SA BUHAY KO???
Where were you when my world was falling to pieces? Where were you when
my world suddenly made sense? Where were you when I made magnificent,
life-altering decisions? As I recall, you weren’t even particularly
nice to me when we were working together. We were supposed to be
friends but you had this massive undercurrent of meanness that would
suck the life out of everyone around you. WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS BUSY LIVING THE REST OF MY LIFE??? How dare
you have an opinion on anything in my life! I have friends with whom I
am much closer that we were not able to invite because (a) we didn’t have enough money for a big wedding and, (b) we did  not want a big wedding. Besides, if we were otherwise inclined and did have a big wedding, you would still not be invited.

Sorry.
There. That’s it. I’ve let it out of my system. I’m still jet lagged so
I’m not in my right mind. This is all completely reactionary and I
didn’t bother to count to 10. Hence. She’s not worth my time, but I’ve
just had so many veiled comments since the wedding and it’s really
driving me nuts.

Sigh. The price I pay for being a social butterfly. Nyaha.