Graduation

I went to my eldest son’s school today.  It was the deadline for paying the grade 6 graduation fees which included toga rental, venue fees, etc…

Miss Love told me “Ma’am, naa na unya kay high school” (“Madam, you will have a son in high school soon”). Tears fell. They were of joy and disbelief at the same time.

Insoy had always been heavy growing up. He has a kindred heart. When kids tease him for being fat, I would over-react and he would say “It is alright”. He loves to play the guitar. Math is a challenge for him. He aims for “passing”.  He is Mr. Sociable in school.

Sometimes I feel I push him too hard because I want to gain gold stars for being a mother. I dream of  academic medals, sports trophies, science wizard award — always. I will not give up on my dream so it seems.

He dreams to have art exhibits, being a chef,  and being a rock star. He has a friendster account that has pictures tagged as “Emo” (whatever that means). Emo for emotional, I guess.  And he never gives up on his dreams too.

He is  turning 13 this year.  He kisses me goodnight with lips that don’t touch my cheeks. He hurriedly leaves the room with a disguised affection. I let him be. I was a teenager once and I know how it feels to be “feeling” grown up at 12.

Must he be in high school too soon? I want to pinch his cheeks. He is our Insoy. Lorenzo Mikel is such a grown up name.

I will always be proud of him.  I love all 165 lbs of him. I love being selfish of his attention. I love it when he plays big boss in the house. He checks that all windows and doors are locked when Dad is not around. He checks where we are when we have to go out to party late. I enjoy the way he mimics the school principal’s monday morning speeches.

Insoy, I may not be there physically (when you go up on stage to get your diploma) but I will be praying hard to summon angels to be with you on March 29.  They will carry all the love that I will be sending your way. I will be the proudest mother in the whole world on March 29. That is my guarantee.

this is insoy’s year book photo. hmm, wala ko kauyon sa ilong ha, taas biya ni ilong si insoy. =)

The Sardine Chronicle (part 3)

I had second thoughts on whether to write the final episode of my sardine stories. My soul will now be stripped naked but I want to write it down nonetheless since this is the only gift (?) I can afford to give Roland this year.

Our relationship had major bumps and nurturing. It rocked and mellowed of imaginary and real secret affairs. We had a balanced share of ups and downs. We withstood distance apart from each other and distance even in tight proximity to each other. We tried a lot of things together and not all of them was a success. But we continue to try.
He calls me Gang (a term of endearment coined from pinangga). I call him Yang (the way I would call his real name if I still had a lisp). He is a social butterfly while I am always in a cocoon . He used to be a soccer football and basketball varsity while I was never into sports. He cooks, I eat. He explodes and then comes regret and apology. I retreat and then comes retaliation and punishment. He nags, I listen. He forgives wrong, I never forget wrong. He wishes for grand birthdays, I wish for simple birthday dinners. He is erratic impulsive, I am immutable and practical in comparison. He snores wildly, I sleep soundly. He is never serious, I am super serious. He wants the details, I want the summary. He likes cold, I like warm weather. He remembers faces, I remember names. He loves burgers and dried fish, I love sardines.

He is a major challenge to live with. He snores in bed, he is impatient, he shops more than I do, he is picky with his food, he nags, he does not follow our plan for the day, he confuses the house help with his orders, he brings friends over to the house with their annoying karaoke singing, he forgets a lot, he loses things a lot, he brings extra shirts and changes outfits at work (so vain indeed), he snores even while driving, he drives with wreckless abandon, he does not understand the real meaning behind the letters I send him (makes me cry after all the effort to make him understand), he doesn’t go to the doctor, he has false pride, he spoil the kids and insensitive most of the time. I could go on with this list but it would be too unfair because this is my blog.

In our 21 years as a couple, I have mouthed a frugal “I love you” that is limited to a digit I can count with the fingers on my hand. But he loves me nonetheless. Despite my queer, always calculated moves, he understands me. He gives me my space. He religiously prays with me. He laughs at my jokes even if it is not as good as how he would have delivered it. He gladly accepted a role as ” ina-tay” (mother-dad) when I was sent on long trips to the US for work. He posed as a hand model when I did photography assignments at Multiply. He shopped pots with me when I got turned on to gardening. He knows when to cook sardines.

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for covering my shoulders with a blanket when my knees fold to a shiver and I’m too sleepy to get up. I know you watch me when I sleep. I lied when I told you that I did not notice your gentle kiss when you come home late.

Thank you for giving me a chance to try my wings in New Zealand. Please follow ASAP and bring lots of sardines. =)

Happy Valentines Day, Yang!

The Sardine Chronicle (part 2)

I was a queer then (still is actually). 99 lbs, always with a short hair 2 inches from the scalp and a gold streak at the sides, converse high-cut sneakers, plain black or white t-shirt, faded jeans with knee tattered. Pretended to be a fine art student carrying bags that went down from hips to knee, huge bangles, exotic shell earrings, a skipping kind of walk and a bored look. (and I always carried a charcoal pencil, too)

I was an engineering student but squatted at the architecture and fine arts floor. That was how Roland found me. He waited until our Manila tour to find courage to introduce himself. We both had gay friends. He hates math which I helped him with and I loved to paint the background colors of his artworks, which he didn’t have the patience to complete. Opposites!

Graduating year, Advertising thesis year, I volunteered to paint his art work backgrounds.  I painted it the perfect black. Deadlines almost nearing and hiding from classmates who were competing for 1st place, we did the art work at his house.

I met his mom. She looked at me (converse, faded jeans and all). She did not have second thoughts of serving me her famous sardines with tomatoes and onions.  Instinctively, she knew me like she did her own daughters. I won her heart and she won mine.  She served me sardines every time I visited and she served it with lots of love.

6 years after, she became my mother in law.

She left us on a bullet train to heaven 4 years ago. She was my mama Corazon. She was all heart.  It would have been their 50th year wedding anniversary with Papa this 20th of February. I’m lucky to have had  a mother in law who can read heart wishes beyond queer outfits. We miss you, Mama Azon.

The Sardine Chronicle (part 1)

Mana Tuling lived with our family ever since I remembered. She is Manang Celing to others, Mama to my brother, Nanay to my sister and I was the only one who called her that. I christened her that name because I talked with a lisp when I started mouthing words. Until today, I call her that while everyone else calls her Nanay.

I grew up with my grandparents in Sikatuna and moved to my parents house in Banilad, where the rest of my siblings stayed, on weekends. I am so used to packing because I had to pack on Friday nights to go to Banilad and pack my stuff again on Sunday to go back to Sikatuna. This I did until I was old enough for high school. My sister and I went to the same school but we lived in a different house. For some time, I believed “nakit-an ra ko sa basura” (found in the garbage) which was the reason for the arrangement but later I decided it was better to believe I was so lovable — I had to be shared by 2 families. =)

My mother was and is until today a corporate slave. She left the tending of the house and my siblings to Mana Tuling. I detested her. I hated her so much and the feeling was mutual. My siblings treated her like a mother. They would hide her luggage and run after the tricycle on unusual days where she had to go home to her hometown for a day. When my mom goes out of town for weeks of travel, none of my siblings did the clingy over-reacting they do for Mana Tuling.

Mana Tuling was adored no end by my siblings while I grew to detest her even more. At one time, I hated her so much that I even threatened to kill her with a kitchen knife unless she gets off my back. I was a super hormonal & moody kind of teenager then.

Through the years, our relationship grew from “i hate that i am a stranger in Banilad” kind to “she is so nosy, she is a spy” kind to “i will just have to accept that she is part of the family as long as she stays by a 10 foot pole away from me” kind to “oh, i wish i could find someone who is as loyal as her” kind, and to finally the less complex “i am thankful she was there in my life to challenge me” kind.

Mana Tuling introduced me to sardines on weekends, her specialty would be to cook it with eggs.

While now we have left Banilad to pursue our own lives, Mana Tuling is still with my parents. I am glad that she is there to take care of my mom and challenge my dad from time to time with her spying. She is loyal & passionate and I envy that she has this kind of “abandon her dreams” attitude just to spend her whole life to care for our family. She never got married.

Sardines remind me of her.

It took years until I realized how Mana Tuling is of value to us and it made me realize that hatred is too much of a burden to bear, it injures the hater more than the hated.

Thank you Mana Tuling. =) I can’t mouth I love you but you definitely have all my respect and gratitude.

555

I so love eating sardines out of the can. It is my comfort food.

Yesterday, my officemate & neighbor Sharon cooked me sardines for our Friday breakfast at the office. It brought back so much happy memories.

My mother in law cooks it with tomatoes. yummy. Mana Tuling likes to cook it with eggs. The hub opens a can for peace offerings.

Funny how this food brings so much more happy memories to fill my heart with the comfort of home. Thank you Sharon.

Obscure facts

4 years ago, we had a team building activity where we had this “obscure dreams” game. Each one of us would write down what they truly dream of (no matter how funny it would be). The objective of the game was to get to know each one in a deeper level. Out of each dream, each one was supposed to guess who wrote what. No one ever guessed me. The VJ stint somehow was something everyone thought was so not me being so shy and all. Or maybe no one really knows me that well. I sort of went through my old emails today and I found the obscure dream I was talking about, here goes:

I want to travel to all the countries (join the amazing race perhaps). First trip would be Jerusalem, Greece and then off to Paris, then Thailand, etc…

Then retire on an old rustic house (burag vigan style house) with big windows overlooking the sea and wooden floors, antique lamps, kitchen as big as the living room, old furniture. My bed would have a canopy like royalty with white embroidered linen. My days will be filled with doing paintings, doing pottery, mosaic and anything creative. (this is how i will spend my retirement). I will study books on palmistry and then collect seashells. Enjoy the sunset while reading more books. I will learn to eat more vegetables. I will walk barefoot. In the evenings, I will have somebody give me a massage and I will be watching Gone with the Wind, Casablanca, old movies all over. Do charity work or serve through an NGO/foundation. Be active in church. Then teach children how to do creative things. Spoil my grandchildren.

One more thing i like to do is “fish” on weekends (during my retirement). I need all the de-stressing. hehehe.

But before that I would loose weight and be the oldest video jock on Asia’s MTV. or Host a Talk Show and if nothing else write a book or have a newspaper column that will talk about living life to the fullest without going overboard.

Funny how photography or New Zealand was never a part of it. Dreams do change just like people do but I still look forward to walking barefoot in a house of wood with a kitchen as big as the living room with windows that open to the sea. Some day. Soon…

“Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do.”