The Sari-Sari Store Prespective III: And she arrived.

The long wait—at least on my tito’s part—is over. His fiancé arrived yesterday in Manila.

I was sleeping when I heard my tito’s familiar voice. I know that my nap time is almost over because I could already hear him clearly. Just as I opened my eyes, he told me “she” arrived.

I put down my laptop carefully. I originally planned to do some more brainstorming until the late afternoon, but the soft snooze that my little cousin was making was too tempting to be disregarded. I slept sitting down, legs sprawled straight with my laptop on my lap.

I took a peek outside and saw her. She looked every bit like someone who just came from the airport. Lone black canvass bag hanging from one shoulder, comfortable pair of slip-ons, crisp white three-fourths, baby pink spaghetti-strapped blouse and maong shorts. Too typical to be singled out. Except that she was speaking with a slang.

Having been born and raised in Bicol like my tito, she understood Tagalog well. It’s just that her tongue was trained to reply in English. But I guess it did not matter to me. She wasn’t snooty—something that really bothers me about some balikbayans.

From the small window, neighbors tried very hard to conceal not to ogle. But they do. In hordes.

Kamote Mania

I look at the tiny roots growing out of the side of the kamote as I peel the outer skin. I realized it and the rest of its group had been sitting on the old strainer by the stove for days now. If not for a request from my aunt, I would not have cooked them along with a newer batch.

I love eating kamote fries and crisps. I also love cooking them—all because they only need to be fried.
I remember a time when I boastfully volunteered to cooked fried kamote. I was so sure I could do it. My little cousins were coaxing the adults to let me cook. They tasted my previous fried kamotes and they were great. So, the adults let me fry the kamote and waited for the first batch. And I was in the kitchen, never leaving the stove even if the shows on Cartoon Network are inviting.

I went on, letting the oil heat up before putting the slices. I was so sure I could do a magnificent job as the first batch of kamotes were turned. But I forgot about other factors, such as the amount of heat needed vis a vis the time needed to cook both sides of each kamote slice.

The result: half-cooked fried kamote. Of course my little cousins didn’t eat them. Neither did I. Hahahaha!

We just sat idly in front of the television and waited for Phineas and Ferb to make the day less disappointing.

“Nanay and Tatay”

When I was younger, I thought the titles “Nanay & Tatay”, “Mama & Papa” and “Daddy& Mommy” are status symbols.

I thought “Nana and Tatay” belonged to poor families, “Mama and Papa” were how you called your parents if your family can afford more than the basics and “Mommy and Daddy” were parents to spoiled children who had frilly clothes and fat, lazy cats.

My parents wanted me to call them “Nanay and Tatay”. I did so without letting my classmates know. We lived in a nipa house and when a storm would pass by we would hide under the table. Hahaha! When it rained and the path walk to the dirt road was muddy, my father would piggyback ride us three one by one until we reached the highway.

It took me years to reveal this to my classmates: that we were poor and life was as simple as can be. After all, my parents did all they can to send us all to a private Catholic school in town. We were luckier than 90% of the children who lived in our barangay.

As I grew older, I began to see the tenderness that were in “Nanay and Tatay” that most children cannot mimic when they ask for new toys. “Mama and Papa” often clashed with “Nanay and Tatay” such that the former were reserved for one’s nuclear parents and the latter, for the grandparents. “Mommy and Daddy” were the ones used when one is asking for one peso coins to buy Stick-O or homemade pastillas.

As I recounted my piggyback ride and under-the-table-during-the-storm days, I smiled at the status symbols that were never meant to be.

Hello 2012. No signs of being useful yet.

It is the start of 2012 and much as I wanted to feel happy with the rest of the world, my selfish self has confined me to a small corner of our house where only 3 things can be found on my table: laptop, a bottle of water and a pack of delicious muffins.

The muffins? They’re for 20 pesos per pack. Each pack contains 4 palm-sized muffins baked into perfection. For bulk orders, drop by the Iloilo City PUJ Terminal (found in Super) near Robinson’s Mall.

P.S. I heard they taste better than JD’s. XD

I chose to be this miserable. I am not entirely happy. My happiness fluctuates depending on the hour of the day and on my activities lined up for that day.

Sometimes, much as I want to give our garden plants a drink, I am too rationalized to stay in front of my laptop and do nothing. I can help my mother do the chores but I do not. Oftentimes, when she passes by me watching House Season 4 or any Western movie, I would notice that my expression is so immersed. Like I do not want to be disturbed. Like whatever I am doing is so important than making sure that we have heated viands for lunch.

I am utterly useless when I am at home. That’s why I need a new job. XD

Selfish me.

The people at home are teasing me. They said I’ve become more selfish. Hahaha!

What they said was entirely true. I was and still am selfish. I work too hard. I seldom spend time with them. I am even more stingy.

Father: “Ikaw, kung i-text ka Monday, Friday ka pa ga-reply.” Awts.
Mother: “Abi pagturog don, indi sagay pulaw. Ikaw lang da mamanggaranon eh.”
Brother: “Te, indi mo gid ko pagtaw-an ka dang ginakaon mo?”
Sister: “Binli man ya ayam.”

Translation:

Amay: Text back ASAP, you!
Iloy: Sleep now, pay later.
Utod nga lalaki: Im hungry too, you know.
Utod nga babaye: Arf!

Whew. That was hard. Hahah!
But honestly, yes. I am even more selfish that I’ve lost more weight from too much work. That’s why they are pressuring me to go home for the holidays and fatten up. (Execution date is near, siguro.)

But, as pissed as they are with how delicately I am handling myself, I am so glad to be able to go home. XD

On madmen and mothers

I seldom tell my mother how things are with my life.

Most of the time, she bickers on and on about how the world may swallow me whole if I sleep with both eyes—metaphorically. I think she has the “mean-world syndrome”.

The mean world syndrome simply states that “we perceive the world as a dangerous one, often because of what we see on television”.

When I tell my mom something significant (read: scary), I usually am over it. So her words won’t eat me. See? I am not really unfair. I just do not want her to worry but at the same time, I want her to know how things are in my life. What I do tell her are the good things. But even when I do, she almost always kills the fun.

I usually tell my father first. He is more visionary and less pessimistic. Men are generally calm than women in the face of disaster. Think Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

My mother has “hen instincts”. While my father would prefer that I act on my own (like how he would when he is in my situation), my mother is like a fire extinguisher sign: Safety first.

One time while we were taking our afternoon nap, we woke up to her shouting all over the house. The front door and gate was open. And although our house is almost 15 meters away from the dirt road, she was saying stuff like: What do you do if a madman comes by and plunges a knife in your gut?

We say” Nay, we have 6 dogs.

And she’ll say: Dead, if the madman poisons them.

OK. End of discussion. We left her to bicker her way to the dirty kitchen while we wipe the saliva from the corners of our mouth. So much for an afternoon nap, yay.

Home, and how much it sucks not to be there on Halloween.

I want so badly to go home.
[cue: Home by Michael Buble]

I miss Iloilo. I miss my sister’s unkempt hair. I miss the dirt road in our place. I miss Nong Roger, our family friend who always comes too early in our house but refuses coffee. I miss my father’s vegetable garden. I miss my own plants in my mother’s vegetable garden.

I miss the thought of being there.

I realized I had never been homesick before. Even when I was in college, I would go home twice or thrice a month. Now, I can really relate to my classmates who lived as far as Pagadian City.

I hope some miracle happens and I get to ride a boat home. Even for two days.

.
Pototan, the Rice Granary and Christmas Capital of Western Visayas

(photo taken from photobucket)

My father, his collection of love songs and videoke classics and why he does not patronize Filipino music and movies

Jennie is mocking me (hahaha!) because my music life was nonexistent when I was in elementary. Particularly because I did not know that Eraserheads (among others), the greatest Filipino band of all time (until they disbanded), have songs which I was not familiar with.

I cannot blame her, though. I know I should have been more familiar with OPM. But I guess I was a passive listener.

See, my father wakes up early. Probably at 6 in the morning. Then, in trying to wake us up without being too “motherly”, he would play songs from his Greatest Love Songs Of All Time Collection. Actually, there was no such collection. He just made it up.

Kenny Rogers. The Cars. The Beatles. The Carpenters. Bon Jovi. Eagles. Michael Learns to Rock. Spandau Ballet. Gloria Estefan. Bryan Adams. Eric Clapton. Carlos Santana. All the classics, he has them. In CDs. In a large bottom drawer of our divider.

I do not know why he does not have OPMs. Perhaps it reminded him of his “dark days”. Feel free to give you own connotations. Hehehe. Or perhaps, he just isn’t into them.

He also does not patronize Filipino movies. He told me once that he does not like the cheesiness and quality of Filipino films. Most of them lack taste. The stars who bag the role are not deserving and they cannot and do not know how to act. And so on…

I tried loading Mano Po 3 on the DVD player once and happily announced that I am watching it to see if it will make me cry. My father–perhaps out of curiousity–went to watch for less than 30 seconds, scoffed, and went away to tend his vegetable garden.

An hour later, he woke me up. XD

bakasyon na naman

My brother, who is taking up Marine Engineering, recently packed his belongings and rode the boat for Manila with some of his classmates. After staying there for three to four hours, they will be leaving again for Subic, where they will complete a three-month training program—paid of course by the company which took them as scholars.

My sister, however, left for Manila as well. See, our only remaining grandmother’s health is failing and she demanded to see all the family members very soon. My grandmother has long dropped hints of wanting to see us all again, way back since 2008. We thought that this was the right time, since my uncle is also getting married next month and it will also be my mother’s town’s fiesta. Whew! I smell a lot of cholesterol. Hehehe! Since I still had a few matters to attend to at school—alongside marching—I was left here with my mother, uncle and a cousin.

Being left home sibling-less has its perks. For one, I get to have the TV set, DVD players and the refrigerator (and its contents) all to myself. I can watch movies anytime, sing ten times as loud anytime and kick the cat when it misbehaves, anytime. I’m sorry, I am not a feline lover.

However, I also get to shoulder all the responsibilities, all the time. When they left, I realized that our house never looked bigger. Hahaha! That’s the bad news: a big house means BIG maintenance. I get to sweep the floor, feed the dogs, wash the dishes, wash our clothes and water the plants (thankfully, it rains more than four times a week) all by myself.

I would joke around with my mother: How come there are only three of us? You could have added two more so when two leave, there will be three more to help out with the chores. She gave me a blank stare.

Mother: Who’s going to send them to school, you?

My uncle and cousin laughed. OK, enough of that. I’ll just watch movies for all eternity after cleaning the house.

our backyard, after mother and I have finished with the general cleaning

my mother with my epal dog, Lyla

on TV series and being glued

I had wanted to view this for soooo long. But due to laziness, I did not get a copy of the different cycles until last Thursday.

America’s Next Top Model would have had me going crazy if I were in high school or if I have seen the first episode of the first cycle. I would have cried, thrown things around and starved myself to save money and fly to the USA to be one of them. Thankfully, I did not.

And now that I have seen other American and Japanese TV series like Satorare, FRINGE, Gossip Girl, Modern Family, Absolute Boyfriend and Lie To Me, I think that ANTM got lost somewhere between. I know I should not and must never compare them because they are of different genres and are targeting different audiences, but as a viewer, I cannot help it.

I cannot stop myself from feeling hyper and nauseous every time I watch FRINGE. I do not really find the characters good-looking nor interesting but I get interesting anecdotes from Absolute Boyfriend. Gossip Girl’s enigmatic ways and witty lines make up for the bitchiness and bitterness of its lead cast. Modern Family is a must-see TV series for every American Family (and being Filipino, I still can relate to it) I find most Japanese story lines and themes weird like Satorare and I like Tim Roth’s cockiness and brains after being glued to Lie To Me.

FRINGE. I love everything about Fringe.

Modern Family I love Gloria’s character

Lie To Me. Now, I have suddenly become conscious about lying. XD

Zettai Kareshi, Absolute Boyfriend. Got me dehydrated.

Gossip Girl Funny how they seem to practice ‘inter-breeding’

Satorare means “Transparent”. Literally, the lead character’s thoughts can be heard within 20 meters.

TV series are for those who are insatiable. It is for those who are up to the challenge of knowing their limits versus sleepiness and boredom. It is for those like my friend, Jennie who is every movie director’s dream audience (cries at the right time, smacks the nearest person when something funny happens, etc.).

I love it that I was able to contain my hunger for TV series until this week (no more thesis, yeah!). I ma happy that I can prove their existence and purpose. Most of all, I am happy to be able to find the perfect reason to lose myself. Now, I can choose not to sleep..

P.S. My favorite is Naima, before I was informed/ spoiled by my friend that she emerged as Cycle 4 winner.

Naima, ANTM Cycle 4 winner