mY naKed Thoughts

Whenever I see new uploaded pictures of friends grinning stupidly, showing off their best angles while posing gaily with their other friends, I always find myself in question of, where are my good friends?

I seem to have never spent time with friends in real life except with my best friend Rose. A sole picture of me and Rose is posted in my album. I met her 4 years ago when I was working in Al khobar. She was my partner in crime, my accomplice. My boss who was a Sheik was surrounded with crabby employees. That’s why I needed an allegiance. She’s the boss’s personal assistant and I was the private nurse. We worked together listening to the follies of a very rich man, our boss. The friendship evolved strong when it was tested by caustic baloney made-up stories of envious co-workers because were closer to the elephant, the boss. Those stories which we didn’t buy made us more trustful to each other. Rose and I are like fire and water. I’m fiery, her passiveness pacifies me. I went home with an unfinished contract because I can’t bear the competition in the work place. Which is, who is the best brown noser? I’m now Rose’s daughter loise’s godmother.

In College, I had a peer group we named D’JC Jammers. Don’t be fooled by the jammer tag. We’re not actually the sporty, active kind of people. In fact, we’re the dull ones carrying heavy volumes of MedSur books, errr except me.

D’JC Jammers was an acronym of our names. Although I belonged to the group, I seldom spent time with them. I had my community work and was busy performing insanity in my relationship. In retrospect, I had caring and concerned friends. They’re the ones worrying my failing subjects. They even negotiated a plea to my professor for a greater tolerance of me so I could take my Economics removal exam. I’m poor in numbers, it’s just good that i know how to count my blessings. Sadly, I was loafing in college and worst, because I wasn’t aware I was loafing. My friends and I each grew and parted ways. They worked out for their dreams while I fancied mine.

When our roads crossed again thru this social networking site. I was very happy and in despair. Think, how these two words coined together? It’s because I’m happy for their success in life and I’m in despair over mine. The desperation was the impetus that I decided to take my board exam when my contract here finishes. Needlessly say, my friends are  happy over my resolution. Until now, they’re still backing me up.

Last vacation, I had my birthday. I was born in the 28th of december. It’s Innocence day in Philippines. A day when people are allowed to play pranks innocuously. I didn’t know to whom I send invites since I’m an introvert person, not a social butterfly. My fingers are more in numbers than my real close friends. I reckoned presence of them, or even just acquaintances in the city, Unfortunately I had not found one. Fate has thrown the D’JC Jammers in different parts of the world and those acquaintances were scared I was just playing a trick and so no one believed it’s actually my birthday. I ended up spending the party with the usual attendees all through my 32 years, my family.

Time and distance may fetter me in spending time physically with my friends. Absence wanes communication yet to have realised the deep meaning of friendship surmounted it all. People may separate and grow apart but heart and soul bounded together hoping for happiness in each other’s life is what friendship all about. 

I’ve wolfed 2 bars of prince chocolates, large sized Doritos chips, a pack of Oreo biscuits and downed a can of large coke. Yet the idea of what topic to blog about still didn’t kick on my dead brain. I’ve been blog/news trotting to and fro still nothing has gotten my interest. Instead, I worry if I still could be in a deep slumber after all the gastric contents I shoved with glut in this 30minutes hour before sleep.

What has actually bugging me all day is the lavish shopping I did. Having spent half month of my salary for clothes, shoes and bags brought an acid feel on my stomach. The sudden change of reading interest from self help articles to fashion and style updates is alarming. I’m not having fun anymore looking at what I bought, I’m having a headache instead. I’m not a materialistic person, well, that’s if I’ll be compared to others I knew of.

The guilt feeling caused by my impulsive shopping secondary to longingness hits a nerve thus a punitive action was self-rendered, the over eating took place. Aren’t I entitled to enjoy what I earned? If Yes, then why do I feel I’m about to sell all the dresses I just bought? Why I can’t seem to see to some independent women like me, the regret of buying a Wallis little black dress that looks like just a freakin cortege dress? Am I normal to feel this way?  Or am I just an ordinary person looking for extra-ordinary things seen not in the shopping window?

I must admit, material things sometimes validate our self worth. It’s an investment that promotes pride. However, in this time of global recession wherein some people die in hunger, could you dare to buy a Louboutin shoes without the usual tugging feeling of your conscience?  or wouldn’t you inch your thinking a little open then?

If the moon takes it’s place tonight, It will be the first day of Ramadan. I’m not much into religious activities but what really amazes me is when good muslims share their blessings to the needy. In the family I worked with here in Saudi, we have at least twenty boxes of (used and unused) dresses and groceries and sacks of rice to be given away. I salute them for that.

In Philippines, people are raising hell because the President professed it’s undignified to eat in a fastfood chain when the party was in US thus veering them to Le Cirque restaurant and paid a staggering $20,000 for a single dinner. I don’t know how the President defines “dignity”  and how does the word relate to restaurant preference. Obama however ate in a fastfood resto while our Pres.GMA went to US bringing a bowl of loan application and we had the nerve to pay exorbitant price for a dinner?huh! Thus i’m casting an askance look for that.

In my own affair, I figure the reason I feel guilty  is because I know that overseas workers’ works are not for lifetime. The need to save money is the primary goal and not on the indulgence on material things because every moment we’re away from home, we paid big time. Our absence when kids are growing can’t be compensated by anything. Thus, we have to make the most of what we earned. There’s no such happiness to be with family again. Nor any signature brands can pacify the longingness one feels.

Anyhow, your affair isn’t mine. I don’t wanna be a kibitzer as of the moment. Though the lesson I got from this examining is to make the most of what we have. Whether it be financial, physical, emotional resources,don’t wear it out. Let it be productive as always and/or save it for future better uses.

Since young I’ve always wanted to stare at the sky. Be illuminated by the glitters of the moon and stars and be basked in the sun rays of summer days. It brings delight and warmth on my senses even by just imagining it. My mother used to reprimand me how weird I am to sleep in the roof of our store. Now, here I am again in my fave abode where my solace is, brooding.

In our life, It’s a choice if we want to reside in a place of desperation and anger or we can literally give ourselves a space to breathe, to feel alive, to pause for while and wipe off the destructive emotions that overwhelmed us. To mull over the choices of to be strong or to be miserable. When in the end, the effort exerted following both these choices is still the same.

I believe what shatters a person to it’s core is when no one values her/his presence. Indeed an ego should be fed. We all wanted to be heard, to be acknowledged how good we are but be over ruled by ego is like driving in a car with a gigantic, puffy bag in front. We can’t see anything. We can’t see around us or under us. It’s just the bag that blocked our vision. The bag is ourselves.

Ourselves that’s filled with anger, pride and unforgiving spirit. It burdens us. It consumes us. It endangers the real us. It lets us forget who we really are. Being taken over by anger is exhausting. Why not drop it anyway?  Nurturing all those bullshits is similar to a dog licking in an empty can, we hurt ourselves. We deserve more than that.

A loved one told me, she can’t bury the hatchet, her sufferings will never end. Indulging to anger as my bro said, is just showing how weak we are. For me, anger is just pride.  Both obscure the pristine views ahead of us. It snaps off the lamp of our intelligence. We can’t think good, all we know is to express it in whatever way we can. Yes, we can’t control our anger, our emotions but we have a total control over our reactions. Why torture yourself? Why choose to be miserable when we can be happy?

Let’s navigate ourselves on the right track. Take a breath, pause, have a clear view of things and drop the whole ego thing, will you? Besides, casualty of anger is always ourselves, Why not concede defeat if that makes you a winner essentially? No one gets fat swallowing an ego anyway. Slurp it all and just fart it out. Yeah, do it! that’s better.

One of the most difficult things to think about in life is one’s regrets. Something will happen to you and you will do the wrong thing or nothing had happened and then you do something wrong, and for a moment afterward you will wish you done something different.

For instance, You didn’t actually plan of sleeping with him, did you? But the alcohol you drunk made you do the contrary. Adding insult to injury, you’re not sure if it’s your fertile glory days. So the nervous-giddy sort of feelings after the indulgent on stupidity are seem like, you wanna pee but you can’t and your spine is shivering and temple breaks in cold sweat then you’re filled with overwhelming regrets, you wanna hit you own head and say, damn! I should haven’t done it! 

For sometime I regretted some amiss behaviours I did. No, not the one written above though. I regretted nevertheless those things that I didn’t do in my life. Precisely, those words that were unsaid and deeds undone. So, I take time to be mushy now not to end this day too regretful to bear.

My brother wrote on his post, “We are a family of denial.” For me, it’s a misnomer, the denial wasn’t the inability to face unpleasant realities but we deny showing our love to each other. It’s not that we lack love, it’s just that we are not so soft-spoken to say “I love you” to each other. The only thing that merits in us is, when time gets rough, we have each other. My Ma & Pa, I know they’re hands off me already because as they said, I can never be driven by anyone but me. Yet, I still miss being pinched when I prattle too much. My siblings, my austere critics, I know it’s hard to follow what I say and ignore what I’d done. but hey! I’m not totally useless, you know. I can still serve as a bad example. My family, I love you and I actually want to hug and kiss you all. (yaiks! aren’t I too melodramatic?)

Second, I regret not being able to read bedtime stories to my kids. I know they’re music lovers. I hear all the music videos they forwarded. Im touch to know that they’re swayed by sentiments revealed visibly in the lyrics of their fave songs. I sing melodies with them in spite of my being tone deaf. However, I can’t figure a way of reading stories to them before sleep because of time zone differences. That made me feel helpless. sigh!

Third, I regret that I don’t know how to swim. I finished my Disaster Nursing course courtesy of a classmate who pulled my hair up so I will not drown myself and be the lifesaver not the patient. I hardly remember who that classmate was. Anyhow, she saved me. Thanks!

Fourth, I apologize all the caustic remarks I made obliviously or consciously. I just realized, i’m always defining my mediocrity whenever I stoop on something that I don’t agree about. Besides, isn’t it a useless effort to argue with someone who’s ideas you don’t even respect? 

Lastly, It saddens me thinking that I only get to know great people online and not being able to see them personally. Friends who found time reading my nonsensical posts. With people’s smart mind’s view around me, thanks for expanding my vision. 

Indeed, I have regrets. The list is long, short attention span reader maybe bored so I named few. Though, it’s not the end of the road  yet, I’m taking my time acknowledging them now. Who knows, I won’t be having regrets anymore instead I’ll have something to be grateful about.

We tag him as the Big Bro. Bellowing anyone just with his height and weight. He is a man to reckon with specially when the situation spells trouble. He looks tough and acts as one. However, I cried a river when I feel the out pouring of his meekness when I read his blog.

UNEXPECTED LIFE

They say life is hard but I didn’t  expect it would happen to mine. I have parents who always stand at my side. They never left me. I had bought highschool diploma and entered college while hooked in all vices and troubles you could ever imagine.

It was 2004 when I had a chronic disease that I suffered for two years. I blamed God, I feared I couldn’t live normally anymore. I had so many regrets. But in the end I rose again. My family had always been there supporting me, praying for my wellness. When I’m down they’re there giving me strength. I think God gave me second chance because my family loves me and I loved them too but foremost of all the reasons, is for me to heal not just my body, and my life but also my soul.

During that tumultuous time, I met the woman I want to marry. Our situations almost failed me. I’m an under grad, no work, and problems we’re attached on me. But then, in all sincerity, I prayed and asked the Lord to give this woman I loved to be my partner in life forever and I promised to offer Him my life.

Prayer moves mountains. She became my wife. God blessed us with a very cute darling son named Wade wade. I thank God and my wife for giving me a son I thought I couldn’t have. I never thought I could ever be happy as a father and a husband. I can die for my family but then I have to live also for them. Work is very hard to find in Philippines so I decided to apply abroad.

I am now in Riyadh Saudi Arabia working as truck driver. My work is never been easy. I see accidents frequently. I once sent an injured driver with a totally wrecked face in the hospital. It shudders me thinking if same thing happens to me if I drift my mind off the road when I’m driving. Life is strange in the Kingdom. We experienced a lot of trials, sufferings and pain. This is like living in hell. People can insult us any minute they want. They treated us far differently in my country. They treated us like animals, no brain at all. “Mafe Mook” as they say but I accepted their brutal hospitality because I want to give the best for my family. Whatever they do to me, I thought it as- I earned bread on that kind of treatment. No matter how physically hard the work is, nothing can compare to the loneliness I felt when I’m alone at night. I miss my family. I cried to sleep thinking of horrible things that might happen to our family because of our distance. I’m jealous, I pity my self. They don’t know how I wanted to hug them and to be with them. I want to tell them that the hardest work of an OFW is not the work at all, its living away from home.

Yes, life is very hard but with God and for my family I know I will survive. There’s no doubt I’ll be coming here again if this is the way I could make them comfortable in life. All I wanted is for my family to be respectful, helpful, loving and God-fearing. Those  are just simple words but it’s the hardest thing to do.

We don’t know the meaning of our life but as long as we’re walking in the right path, God will pave the right way.

To my big brother Ricky:

Sometimes we don’t see things coming. However, everything only makes sense when we dig deep within our hearts. Then we’ll see the reasons of every pain, laughters and tears. It will bring out the best in us. Like perfumes from crushed flowers and  wine from pressed grapes. We’ll emerge strong and better people.  Stay a blessing and a positive influence carrying out His work. We love you always!

Sometimes I wonder if living in solitary existence is an anathema or a bliss. To see just a sole compatriot in this far away Kingdom 3x/ week ( the PT) and virtual meeting of friends is a poignant reality that I am indeed literally alone.

I just recently  pored into books. My nearest newly found companion who always talked to me mutely in myriad languages and yes, the mind-blowing Internet. Yet, before I met ‘them’ I usually just sat alone in endless hours talking to myself, thinking. I just now realised it was meditating. Cleansing my cornea’s tinted mirror and change it with rose-colored perception.

Aloneness ferreted me day by day. But then, I found myself. I guess, I can utter now, I’m good being alone. I remember feeling elated on discovering  things I didn’t know I have and be grateful about. I wrote everything passionately  in my journal regardless of how crooked my grammar is. I felt the burning flame of my words, inked clearly what I felt at the precise moment. I rationalised that pausing is giving my heart a rest. It was effective in combating forlornness and wound up effulgent.

Now, I see the odds and ends of the outside world in books and internet. My hunger to correct the errors of my writings, my dealings with my virtual friends and coping with the fast paced-internet. I am grateful of their presence. I’m happy to be  barraged with mails from friends. Time now flies like a spinning hub of the universe. It’s like breathing. It passes without my knowing. 

However,  there’s something I miss so much. The spending of my time in stillness. It had helped me mirror things visibly as clear as in still waters. With it, I heard the deafening silence. I’m emancipated on my inexorable wall. I can soar high, dive deep. Nothing fetters me.

I miss the solitude of self.

I miss the joy it brings.

I was in a total mess the past days. I’ve been roughed up again by one of my negative obsession in which most times I counteract. However, for some reasons I allowed my kindof  insecured being to prevail this time. I guess, this explains why I rely on myself always. I fear rejection, disappointments and failure. These pessimism usually exude when i’m in a relationship.

I’ve been diving in the waters of facebook the past days, out of curiosity and insecurity I searched  my Bf’s best ex-gf. Their relationship took too long that had almost gotten them into the altar then they realised they are not the couple matched in heaven so they separated as friends. Eventhough, a tiny voice shook me inside leaving words to ponder ‘ How does she look like?’

So I typed her name and found her. A De La Salle grad  with a  BS degree of Physical Therapy now working abroad. Wow! she’s stunning. She has brown long wavy hair, almond-shaped eyes, a mestizalooking with some freckles on her pointed well shaped nose. She was wearing a smile accessorized with pearly white teeth and rose-colored lips. A classy chick I’d say. She’s chubby, has the kind of curves one can pose in an Ad that states ’ Fat and Hot’ with wowable cleavage beckoning. So far, those were my impressions on her pictures.

Then I looked at mine, I could pass as beautiful but not pretty. I held my fists high and concluded disappointingly that that’s just how cute my top is. She looked having the best time of her life and I’m stuck in my cell miserably. These realisations ate me inside. The consolations I had were the thoughts that, We could get married  and really reach the altar. Indeed I have kids but I’m legally single and I don’t come with a dowry so I’m cheap and my boys are lovely little monsters sometimes only. I felt the urge of  bombarding my Bf with text messages and my fingers listened on my subconscious commands. I texted him. ‘Do you really love me?’  ‘Have you been faithful to me?’ ‘How long could you hold in our long distance relationship?’  and  comments like… I know men, they can’t live without women’ ….and blah blah!  Naturally, it stirred my bf into anger mode. He had basked in the insecurity rays I emitted. We ended the day without the usual goodnights and i love yous.

I felt like a loser. I have perceived things will end the way it did but still I pushed through. Testing how far my bf’s patience would take us. Why I allowed such situations to make me feel I’m inferior?  Why did I feel that allowing myself to wallow in dejection and insecurity will make me satisfied?  Why did I tolerate insecurities to torment myself? 

Nurturing all the sorryshits I have in my head made me realise that I’m killing myself softly, that I need to get up and clean all the mess I did. Yes, the damage has been done but my apologies made things lighter. So, I promised my Bf that I would never discuss anyone not-so-important to us. That she’s just so lucky that I talked about her. And  I figure, the reason I wrote this is to acknowledge that it’s hard to fight an enemy who has outpost in my head. I need to clean the mess inside my head first then I could see a cleaner, clearer view of things.

It’s not about her cleavage or my Bf’s very tactful nature ( he never brings bad /old /dead  stuffs to life nor says bad words to his exes ) that made me insecured. It’s just all my way of thinking. I think I need to shift gears again.

Anyhow, these pessimism are just great spices of life!

With all the Surrogate Mothers’ advertisements flooding the Internet, there’s no doubt that job vacancies on this field has been filled up already. Thus making me stop traumatising myself mulling on Humanity versus Science matters. I’ll wait till the existence of humanoid husbands then so i’ll fret again. For now, NO Vacancy! 

Instead I’ll better deal with my being human, my personal crisis. This gives me a ticket to be centric and self-indulgent. I’ll tell a story on my next entry but have a little sensitivity on your judgement to me guys! 

Since I professed to abhor my exhausting underrated yet noble job and I can’t stomach the well-paid peddling ass business, I’m now contemplating of applying a job that hits big time yet requires little of me. There’s a growing business in Philippines now. Be hired as a  temporary mother and have your perpetual womb be rented for only 9 months and presto! You will earn a staggering amount of 1.4 million pesos / US $30,000 in a very short span! Wow! How’s that for a work? amazing? or pathetic?

They are called Surrogate Mothers. They’re compassionate, caring and loving people. Well, so far, that’s what I know. I mean,  who cares about who and what they are in real? If they are paid through their bones to act as surrogate mothers, they’re expected to act the aforementioned as well. Besides, nothing to worry because that’s the easy part of the job. The hardest part is, When the method of surrogacy starts. It begins from choosing the type of method the mother will undergo. 

FIRST, is the “traditional” method where the sperm( from a man) was mixed with the surrogate’s own eggs through artificial insemination. SECOND, is the “gestational” method which is harder, riskier and costlier. Here, the surrogate merely acts as the host. Eggs from another woman are mixed with sperm in a laboratory using a process called in vitro fertilization. The resulting embryo – popularly known as a “test tube baby” - is then planted inside the surrogate’s womb.

I feel the word Surrogate Mother is just sugarcoating its bittersweet meaning to make things plausible to the scrutinising public eye. I’m nonplussed as to, Can being a mother expire for 9 mos. as stated in a surrogacy contract?  When a man who’s a stranger donates his sperm, he is only called a donor. This applies to the strange woman donor as well. How can a woman be called “Mother” whatever her reason is, if she sold or gave away her offspring?! How about the other siblings? Did it occur in their atrophying mind that the “brothers or sisters” has the rights to know each other?

My son Paolo had asked me what’s the title of my latest blog. I told him the initial title ” Womb for rent.” He replied, ”Bahay bata for rent?!”  “Yes, the bahay bata or the house of the baby inside the woman’s body is being rented. They will put a seed to the woman’s body and let it grow and when it comes out, the real parents will take the baby.” I explained tersely. He didn’t reply but I saw on his webcam an oh-my-God! eyes from his naturally chinky eye.

I remember my ever businessminded father once wanted our house to be rented. He convinced us robustly but to no avail. We all refused to commercialise the house. Our  home might be not be a swanky condo to live in but our hearts nestled on it. The convenience and serenity it bring amid all the crying babies and the frugality of it’s structure. We loved our house. We don’t want anyone to botch our house. How much more if it’s my own womb?

A fairy tale story of compassion and love might being told to justify these acts. Some very few women might have altruistic approach on these surrogacy with motive of helping incapable couples to have babies of their own. However, fairy tales don’t always end up beautifully. The end doesn’t always justify the means. There are tons of complications and issues entailing on this. The bottom line, It’s still giving away part of ourselves. To concede in a contract that you are allowing somebody to take over your whole biological system, form a life and rip you out of it in due time. How savage that is to yourself! 

To some people, having no love or lust involved, only the meeting of sperms is a good news. For me, ironically it’s a bad news. I would rather have a baby out of love or lust than have it out of money. However, one who’s body ruled by money, we should expect that emotions are absent as well. Let them be cold as stone walls. Damn the hiding on ” for good cause” reasons coz I don’t buy it. On the contrary, You might say “Nothing personal, just work.” if that’s your motto, then you’re just  a damned freakin machine. A soul less life factory.

Post script: Related topics will follow.

I didn’t realize how beautiful the name is ’till an arab woman was awed in amusement when she knew how we call our grandmothers in Philippines. ”I could  name my daughter LOLA! ” she said. In Saudi, anything that has an ‘O’ in the name sounds dear to them like Soha, Noha, Soli, Sosoo, Baso etc. The more I think of it, the more I seem to agree. It rings compassion and care. Especially when  I associate the name to the person who bears it in our family. It’s indeed such a beautiful name.

We called her LOLA. She was not the typical grandmother full of advices at hand. She didn’t speak too much. Her face didn’t express gamut of emotions. All I could remember plastered on her face always was her refreshing smile. And since I was always searching, plowing greener fields away from home, when I arrived home and did mano to  her she usually asked me, ” Rowena, is that you?!” shouting my precious name thinking I also had impaired hearing..I answered her back, ‘It’s me! your most sexiest grand daughter!” and she just smiled. I didn’t know if her smile was an assent or because she’s tired arguing with me on the bloody title I tagged on myself but then, I love her smile, it radiated through her eyes, raveling the beauty of  her soul.

In retrospect, she taught me the best way of armpit hygiene (blush*) and it works! She was an epitome of altruism, truly a self effacing person, always a stand-by reinforcement to anyone. Any problem the family stumbled upon, she was there.  I always remember her when my mother ran out of money ( which is a usual scenario), she just fished her purse out underneath that flowered pink blouse, the fave of her’s with no questions ask. She treaded regally even with her umbrella cane, refusing the properly made cane for her walking, not a hint of doddering. The lastime I said goodbye to her leaving my lola again for work I said to myself if I’ll take care of her the way I took care of my patient here in the Kingdom, God will surely open His arms wide to let me in on His Kingdom for all my devotions at work. I told her, I feel terrible for taking care of other people instead of her and the family and she just smiled again.

It’s  lovely to marvel at her face. It’s sad that I can never do it anymore. On her bed now with a glass mirrored window, how I wish to see her face again for the lastime. However, distance and time failed me. I don’t want to lament more on her passing away because I know this is what she had wanted. To finally rested after living almost a centennial year of a colorful life.  Up there, I believe, right now, as always, she’s smiling.. 

Post script:

Lola, you will forever be embedded and remembered in our heart and soul. We love you and we miss you so much.. Goodbye lola..

   last wacky X’mas with Lola! Smile , it always gives life!

While the Philippine Congress ponders the distinction of AND & OR , and debating against the Catholic Church which stands firm despite their diffences against UN and WHO’s definition of Reproductive Health and Reproductive Health Care , mothers around the country are agonizing, dying.

The average number of Filipino women who die yearly due to childbirth and pregnancy complications has doubled in the last four years. This is very alarming! This has happened because the help from the related health sectors of the  government were opposed to be rendered for some political reasons. Can church and government be finally united for their people’s sake?

When Katrina Halili was inlove to Hayden Kho, She dismissed the idea of abstinence taught by the church. Perhaps she used contraceptive pills (not the ‘E’ reported on news) which is absolutely a prudent act approved by the dept. of health but considered an abortifacient act by the church.

Good news is, Ms. Halili lusty and nutty did not forget to take care of herself  to not to bear an amiss child. Bad news is, when the Careless whisper video scandal exploded- - it’s not actually bad because there’s news, she’s an actress anyway! So we’ll just leave her on her publicity stunt.

My point is, “Wake up woman!” gone are the days of  SUTTEE  or the widow-burning.  Wives are no longer owned and burned together with deceased husbands. We are not in the life to be a liability of anyone. Be not depend upon the protection of a man, instead be taught to protect ownself.

Church and World Constitutions may forever clash and you have yourself  gawking at the world that crumbles at your face and your doing nothing but waiting for a magic spoon to hit you on head so you will be awakened. Don’t you feel your strength eroded by your dozen kids lined up tagging the fringes of your hair, shirt and skirt with stomach cringing for food? Is your hope that bad days will get over still burning or flickering in the dark lonely night? Do you feel the metastasising of AIDS and other STD’s because of your unawareness of self-precautions when indulging on sex?  Or are you dying of pregnancy complications unaided?

Woman, don’t you feel yourself curled small like a ball, an airhead hearing all the talks and debates on what to do with your health? Or on what to do with you?

Reproductive health Bill maybe approved or not it doesn’t matter anyway. Let’s take in charge, step out of the backseat. ’Tis is our life.

For starters, I once hated my nose! huh! keep on reading and don’t stare at my nose on my photo albums! Secondly, I hated my siblings for having their pointed, aquiline nose, the total opposite of mine. It occurred to me that I might be an adopted daughter because of the way our noses looked differently. I’m the eldest, perhaps there was no licence for the making of me yet and so I was made hastily thus I wasn’t being formed precisely as my sis and bro faces. My siblings knew their edge. I can argue with them about anything till my face goes blue and still I’ll never put my case down not unless they shout out my face a name against my nose. They would say it and I’m tamed. Anyway, I know those were just petty squabbles.

I say, God can blame us when He comes back and see that we still feel and look as ugly as we were when He left us. I am not saying it because of the presence of cosmetic surgeons swarming the world today and  that you can utilise them now to change your nose or your face to ready yourself on His coming. That will be a futile attempt of understanding what beauty is. Cosmetic surgeons though can never beautify our brains. They can never enhance the way our minds work. Indeed it it feels good to be outwardly beautiful. It makes our confidence soar for a moment however we know that people are insatiable beings. Everything is infinite till where our greediness will take us, only God knows.

There’s no litmus test on identifying what beauty is. There is no boundary set for it. It’s all within us, in our perception on things. No one can define us as ugly if we see ourselves  beautiful. Yes, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder but I won’t allow anyone to define me. In United States, thin is a standard  when it comes to beauty but not in African country Mauritania,  which is being plump defines it. Beauty can be revered depends on your basis of it.

My basis of it in a woman is the ability to be authentic, to be passionate and true to what she values even her words raise hell by the disagreements of some people. To raise her voice loud to be heard and soften her heart to listen. To be real in her strength and vulnerability. How beautiful a woman that is.

Kind words and gallant acts. Rigid principles and gentle maneuvers. All those attributed a male to be called a “Man”  much as a beautiful man.

The fact is, God has made everything beautiful from ants to flowers to my nose. I’m saying again He will be disappointed when He comes back and see that we still feel ugly because with all the time He had left us in this world, We should realised by now that beauty is only a reflection of ourselves. The world is doomed when we are in anguished and it’s promising when we are delighted. We are beautiful only if we like it.

Let’s savor every inch of our beauty!. My nose is just awesome!

        ” Mama! Mama!”  with sonorous sounds that will cause tinnitus on ears, one may think it’s a battle cry. But, nope! It’s just my kids voice calling me like they have no other person they can call onto. Indeed, they only have me. Me and them and the world. I have always prided myself with my independence and equanimity. Haughty, you may say but I believed I owe this to myself. Reiterating my words again about single moms is due to the blog I’ve stumbled a while ago. 

I read a lot of single mom’s rantings about their laboring alone for their kids. Deprived by their husband’s child supports. Their wrathful candidness towards their old flames are visible, it snapped my synapses, it affects me. Every word I sensed their seething resentment to the person whom once they shared their bed with.

It’s hypocrisy if I’ll write mirthful words about the father of my kids and It’s unfair as well to broadcast his atrocity.  Everything takes two to tango. We can’t point our fingers to them and save our asses. Bottomline is, we had issues and the relationship didn’t work out. Let’s not make the kids as the casualty of our own personal war. If we have regrets of the past, it’s should only be the time that we wasted.

It always cost me a limb fighting against my family, keeping their mouth shut about what they feel about my kids’ father just so my kids won’t be hurt hearing negative words about their father and hopefully it will pay off soon. When we set aside our personal issues and help our children deal theirs they will soon realise that their mother has acted grace and decency inspite of inner turmoil she’s experiencing and is trying to make every thing easy to them.

Other than the fact that fathers should be supporting their kids, I am also aware that it’s fighting for child’s rights to get what the’yre entitled to when a mother ask for a child’s support. However, call it pride. Yes I guess it is. I didn’t ask anything from their father or help from anyone because I acknowledge the downside of asking it-  it’s dependence.

When you rely on your own and recognizes that the only help you could find is at the end of your other arm, empowering feeling will emerge. No more drama of blaming and whining and complaining. Less expectations, lesser disappoinments.  We only have ourselves to motivate, to push through our limits, to blame and be sorry when things get wrong.

If fathers are not having their share of labor rearing their kids, It’s not your problem at all. It’s their failure. No matter what we do, we can’t force our exes to be involved if they don’t want to. We are just making our kids feel rejected by their fathers if we insist on things. Your responsibility is yourself. Whether  your a single mom or not, part of developing one self is making our back strong to anything heavy laden on our shoulders.

Like the greek titan Atlas, we all carry our own burden. A world to conquer and our children encompass it.

If you’re a Woman, imagine that your bestfriend discovers her self starred on a youTube video exchanging body fluids with a man. What will be your advice to her? Will you fix her DORA rat poison drink while helping her dig her own grave? or assist her in the assassination of the following : #1. the partner on the randy act  #2. the man who took the video and disseminate it ( that could possibly be the partner as well) #3. the person who watches the video (that could be me?! ! or you! )

Now, imagine that “bestfriend” whom you saw on the disgusting video reciting vowels A. E. I. O. U. with long, moaning deep sounds while shivering in hot sweat is Yourself. Will you follow thesame advice you’ve given? or will you stop in cold still and say, You’ve been in convent for how long God knows and so there’s no chance that you’re the one on the video?

If you’re a Man, imagine that you’ve found out that your bestfriend is filming his encounters with his girlfriend. Will you ask for a copy of it, reproduce and broadcast it in the internet?

Now, imagine that your buddy’s “girlfriend”  is your sister. Will you condemn such voyeurism instead?

For some reasons in our lives, we made bad choices. We can be the person either way in the situations. We all have dirty laundries or skeletons in our closets. However, those bad decisions will never be ironed out till we don’t shift our gears.

Changing gears meaning, choose the people you talk with and the topic as well. Changing the taste of your reading, viewing materials. Cut-off toxic people out of your life and keep on learning from own mistakes and of other’s as well.

Personally, recognizing the responsibility of the risks of the actions I did had given me second thoughts and realize that : ” i know i’m hot, but that’s not enough reason to post pictures for public consumption. “  or yeah I’m becoming dull to converse with nowadays because I’m no longer a sex enthusiast but don’t you think I’m talking with sense now? ” It doesn’t rankle me anymore whenever a blocked URL popped out on my window because I was searching  Liteorica  stories. I think, I need not wait my sex video with Hayden Kho to be released just so I’ll stop filming our encounters! hehe! just kidding

It’s never too late to wash our dirty laundries and bury all the skeletons we have in our closet. Do you think so?

In this ultra-conservative, extremely religious country where I am into, I am totally convinced that this is NOT a safe country to live in. Every woman’s life is in peril. It shivers me thinking the latest gang rape happened. Rapists flavor of the week, is a Filipina again. I couldn’t believe the abduction was happened in the mall where people are swarming around and yet no one tried to stop it. Sexual harassment is all over the kingdom. May it be blatantly offered- an indecent proposal or they will just grab your neck and hack you. I personally say I haven’t found a man here who didn’t show malice to me. This is not a haughty statement. Let me tell you the reasons why they see me as a walking meat.

First, because of the fact that I am a woman or they would settle to a female camel instead if there’s no woman present. Camels will do the trick. :-0

Check out the link and you’ll see how hungry these men are. I thought they’re are just dogs. You know, when you throw meat or bone to a dog, it automatically gnaws on the bone. But then, I’m dead wrong. These men even there’s no meat or bone or a skin shown, they will still wolf you!

http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=b7000259ab

Second, because  I am a Christian and / or I am a Filipino. Ergo, their prejudice would be- I am liberal minded on sex and / or I am groveling for money.

Third, I am alone away from home and I am lonely. With their idiocy, they concluded that having them is one thing that I should be grateful of because they’re doing me a favor. This will be my debt of gratitude to these shameless pigs!

Lastly, I am just a dot to easily be deleted. A minutiae of persona. Words from a pygmy against of the giant with a turban. To whom will they believe?  Indeed I’m the perfect target for abuse.

I’ve been in Saudi for four years. Needlessly say, I’ve encountered a lot. All I could utter to myself now is to always be precautious. Though there is no safe place on earth, it still make a difference to be alert and aware of what is happening in your surroundings. Be careful to people and be careful to yourself as well. Temptations are lingering everywhere.

This really disturbs me. How I just so wish I am in Philippines.

Since five days ago I’ve been receiving everyday greetings ” Happy Mother’s Day” from my boys that made me wonder when the hell is actually the mother’s day? Finally It’s today.

I can’t help but chuckle reminiscing how my unruly boys warm my heart. There were laughters and tears. I remember, one of the alibi I used when I try to ask their permission that I’d like to tie the knot (hypothetical marriage only, cause everyday I dread the presence of few grey hairs near my temple and my shiny headed beau, they seemed glaring at me with words “we need to get married because we’re now antiques!” ) because I’d like to have a daughter to take care of me when I aged. Paolo, my eldest answered me back ” Kami diay dili namo na kaya?”  How about us, aren’t we capable of doing that? somehow I think he inherited my convincing powers I had pushing drugs to doctors when I was still a medical representative.

My first try unnerved them. I utilized another technique which I’d mulled carefully. I recall explaining the logic of Woman needs Man business. Family in general and couple in particular that there should be a wife and a husband. My wise-ass paolo again snapped me off saying ” Mama, can I be your husband? ” I laughed my heart out that I can’t stop broadcasting it to their tita’s and tito.  He was ashamed and did not  talk to me that whole afternoon.

Sometimes the simplicity and sincerity of their words hit me with a twinge of guilt. When Joshua my youngest son told me ,” Mama, dili ka malooy nako mularga naka wala pa ko naayo chicken pox?” Mama, don’t you pity me, You’re leaving, I still have chicken pox?” I felt I was losing my strength. I hugged josh crushing him in my arms deforming the chicken pox crusts on his skin.

When I started serving my two year contract/sentence again in my cell here in Saudi, they kept on sending SMS to my roaming ordering me to cancel my remittance so I can save money and that I can be with them the soonest time possible and so we can kiss and hug all the time (that’s according to them ). They even threatened me that if I’ll be stubborn enough not to follow their order, they will not text me anymore.

In my past posts, I always said I wasted almost a decade performing insanity in my old world. The only compliment I got are my kids. They’re my trophies in all my failures. Though I still have little regrets on myself, I thank God for giving them to me. Paolo and Joshua gave me my self back. They taught me that to be a Mother I should be a Woman first and to be a woman essentially I should require myself more to have love and be treated with respect. Besides how can I love them if I don’t love myself? How can I give something I don’t have?

Let’s celebrate motherhood.

Happy Mother’s day to all Moms!

It’s like I stepped a landmine. Whether I’ll remove my foot or not, reality of the past of not-so-nice-matter to- tackle with will explode on my face soon or sooner than I expected. It pays off of not revealing YET all my vulnerability. Though I believed, to not screw up your future we have to be open and friendly with our past. I found it hard to abide. I’ve been running exhausted away from my past since ages but friendster made things too easy that if profiles have hands, I’ve been slapped by reality left and right. In a second, I was taken aback, fight or flight response? undecided to face it or not. But I wound up thinking, what the heck! lay all your cards on the table lady, come out clean and get on with your life!

I saw the profiles of the stepsiblings of my boys viewing mine. My profile that spoke honesty in my blog posts about myself and reveals pictures of my beau. Needlessly say, their father saw it as well and maybe reading this now with seething emotion or disdain or ironically maybe happy that I’ve found a human companion now. Anyhow, I don’t care what he thinks. Maybe this can be a medium of our communication, hopefully a sober one.

 My pictures boldly say I’m not sagging the middle of my mouth now but I’m lifting it’s corners. , in short, I am happy. That sole image was not me four years ago since I was using pain as leverage from the pit I was stuck into. I still hate myself sometimes for the precious time I’d wasted, for being self-destructive. I wasn’t aware that human needs brain to function properly and competitively now I realized all life needs are just charm and common sense. I was always acting out of an impetus, on what I feel at that moment.

Just a click, it’s all at the tip of my middle finger. I disclosed my boys stepsisters’ profile linking me to another two more profiles of their stepbrothers and more extended family’s of their father side. It’s like opening a flood gate. River of truth flows.

The truth that our past programs our future yet it depends on our personal rhetoric on how we perceive certain things when it happened in our life. This is what I perceived on mine. I have to know and acknowledge my history so I can walk out of it. An openness of heart, a closure of the past will change all things. For the nextdays that will follow, I’m expecting more friends request.

Truth shall set us free.

Now, I am free.

Gone are the luxuries of free Vitamin Ds. No more basking in the morning sunshine and the warmth of glowing monlit sky of the midnight. No more empowering feeling from scrutinizing people without their knowledge. My fave abode, the rooftop is now closed. It’s locked. Off to the world! How miserable this kingdom is! Ha!

Luckily, the lock up didn’t fetter my imagination. Thus, I’m still free, soaring as the wind! Alive, kicking and laughing till my jaw was in pain when I know the funny story…  well for me it’s funny behind the sudden change of the rooftop policy. 

This is the story.

One humid evening, when air was present only for breathing. A highly reticent soul of a woman was lost in the abyss space of the rooftop. She roamed around, flipping and shoving every thing she sets foot. The weather temperature dropped way low making the environment of the Kingdom too hot. She was restless and feeling hot and sticky and annoyed. She had desired of removing the inconvenience of wearing the long heavy cloak covering her whole body and the piece of cloth on her hair. Her steaming senses  should breath some air. Baring skin was not supposed to be her.. or at least their religion told them so. Nothing should be seen on her except her face and her hands. No one should see her naked. No way! But, no one was there! she thought. Everyone was on their deep slumber. But there could have been cockroaches or perhaps ants. Does it matter? 

She’s tired with the domestic job she performs everyday on this freakin building for a decade long! Fed up of abiding the meticulous policy of their faith. She wants to let go her self. All her inhibitions! all of it! In a flurried movements out of impulse she strips her clothes off like a banana about to be eaten revealing all the nakedness of its fruit.  She took a deep breath and grasp the mobile on her pocket and dialed her beau’s number. ” .. hello! Are you sleeping inside the car? look up! im here!”  Her man was confused! Half asleep thought, “Was it her? “I think it’s her!”, Yet, He needs to confirm. He needs a picture to validate what he saw. Zooming her from the  ground floor to the rooftop. Click! click!  

That was the night. He woke up shouting! How come his mobile was in his co-worker’s hand?! Atini! Atini jawal! meant to say, “Give me my mobile!” but it was late. Way too late. The picture was already bluetoothed by his fellow clod.

That shocked the hell out of the old fashioned family she lived with, had hit rock bottom every single brain working below the rooftop.

tsk! tsk! Rooftop will never be thesame again…

Amid sandstorm I went to my fave loft, rooftop. I was disturbed and sickened with what my Physiotherapist friend has told me a while ago. I need my serenity time to think. I used to envy her. She earns almost six times bigger than my numbers. Imagine? huh! that’s enough to feed a whole lazy community!

I feel every fiber of her being is screaming, with teeth-gritting anger she said she wants to end her life.  She was hurt and beaten by people she treasured. The deliberate lies made to her  by her precious daughter is withering her strength. She felt betrayed. The emotional blackmail made by her husband is eating her soul leaving her paralyzed with guilt. She had worked hard for two decades in the Kingdom. Physiotherapists here need to almost carry their heavy weight arab patients. She endured it all for her family  to savor the luxuries of life has offered which boils to one- Money. Which in a sudden vagaries of life’s tides now becomes invaluable to her. Everything drained like dirt in a toilet bowl.

Is life really a bitch, and we’ll all just die? die in sadness, in desparation or we’ll just  literally swallow bullet so when we woke up, things will end up like we designed in our fantasies?

When I was still young and stupidity was still one of my virtue. I thought too that slashing my wrist will change everything. Indeed I was right. It awakened me on my deep slumber and made me acknowledge the reality that the label of a loser was really suited to me and that I needed change. However one thing good  though that i learned during that tumultuous moment was, pain that won’t kill you will make you stronger. Pain is a great motivator of change. I recall, whenever I was hurt I wrote it on my journal. All the atrocious words and abusive conducts were written in detailed with the purpose of refreshing it vividly on my mind so as not to be forgetten when “fooling” moment comes. 

Life rewards action as the old adage says. With all the insanity I had, no wonder I settled too cheaply now. But we should be aware also that not everything that we did right is the right thing to do because sometimes it just doesn’t work. Bad things can happen to good people too because they allowed it to happen.

Yesterday I sent my friend a message. Hoping it will help her so she won’t end up like journalist Ted Failon’s wife.

             Facing it, always facing it,

                           that’s the way to get through.

                                     face it. 

                                                            -Joseph Conrad.