I don’t have the patience of a saint. But, considering the turn of events since last February, I do have lots of spare time in my hands. Which got me to thinking that maybe I’d do something useful for a change. So, a few days ago, after a marathon re-reading of several Robert Ludlum pulp, I wandered around the house for things to tinker with. There were several options:
- Beads and wire for accessories
- paraffin and wick and essential oils for candle making
- pen and paper for sketches
- pet dogs to pester
- fish in the pond waiting for feeding time
- scraps of cloth for a bored somebody with Continue reading
They’re not things, per se. Meet some of my neighbors and housemates in my tropical jungle home.
As best as I’m aware of, the first two are butterflies. The one at the bottom is a moth perched on my bag.
“What is that, Mama My?” Faith’s worried voice floated out from the bathroom where I’ve sent her to wash her hands before coming to the dinner table.
I stuck my head in the bathroom. “What’s what?”
“There,” Faith’s gaze was fixed on the wall near the door, her forehead was furrowed with undefined fear. I followed her gaze and nearly gave a yelp. Crawling on six obscene hairy legs, its long antennae contaminating the path it aimed to follow, was a cockroach. A dark, smelly, scary, aberration of Creation cockroach.
Kill it, kill it before it Continue reading
Note: I was supposed to submit this for some magazine or another, one of those impulsive decisions I get every once in a while, which often lead nowhere. This “article” was supposed to be my first attempt at sending – through the traditional avenues of submitting a legit manuscript – something to big publishers and agonizing for a month or so, crossing my fingers often, all the while unceasingly wondering if the editors will publish it or not. Through events not under my control, the submission came back to me unopened. Scrawled across the big envelope were the words “RECIPIENT MOVED; NO FORWARDING ADDRESS AVAILABLE”. I should really stop reading back issues of magazines. Everything’s so… obsolete. Anyway, for what it’s worth and for lack of energy to write anything far more engaging, I present today’s special:
I’ve been bitten by a wayward spring-cleaning bug today, and my arms are still aching after my rampage through months-old dust and clutter in my mother’s cottage.
You might want to grab a chair and a mug of brew if you’re going to read this. Go on, make yourself comfortable. I feel like a long-winded story today.
So, there I was, bored nearly out of my wits. It’s been more than a month since my last experience of routine, and I guess I was having withdrawal symptoms. This freedom thing suddenly seemed so cold and lonely… Visions of Bundy clocks and high heels and well-pressed clothes and daily schedules that begin and end predictably danced before my eyes. I was desperate to go back to the corporate world… Luckily, the portion of my brain that does my sanity check kicked in just then. Whew. I almost went over the edge there.
I shook my head to clear thoughts of how Continue reading
Odd summer. I woke up to leaden skies and a chill in the air. Ominous signs of rains later. This is going to be a slow day.
I found out we ran out of instant coffee when, bleary eyed, I went to the kitchen to fix myself a cup. The coffee canister sat empty and quiet, with only a smudge of the aromatic powder stuck on its side. We’re running low on sugar, too. Ah, the joys of being unemployed. Being broke is like a constant refrain of an old cheesy song. Leave job, no food in fridge, bills go unpaid, and eventually, loved ones leave.
I hope this mendicancy is just temporary. I won’t be going to Manila until after the Holy Week. Planning on spending Easter roasting fish and getting sloshed on five-year-old rum with the people I love in my tropical jungle refuge.
I took sidelines again, hoping that what I’d earn from them will help tide us over the lean days. Might also read palms again. Dumagute-based for now, but then again, maybe not. Reading palms constantly drains me. Or maybe I should start a business. Scratch that out. I don’t even have a couple of hundreds to my name; how would I finance any business ventures? Maybe I’d take a look around geese farms. One of those feathered critters might just have golden eggs.
Ah, another joy of being unemployed. It affords me to hallucinate for free.
Death made a visit again…
This time, the loss was most felt by the Philippine Music Industry.
Francis Durango Magalona passed away yesterday at age 44. Big loss.
He was known by several names over the years: The Man from Manila, Kiko, the Master Rapper [a title bestowed to him by Philippine media], The Mouth, and Francis M to name a few of the handles.
The morning of yesterday, I was humming his song “Mga Kababayan” and was wondering vaguely if he’s still active in the music scene. It took a few hours for the news to travel, and by Continue reading
Aaaaand…. she’s back!
That’s just me dragging out my own welcome wagon.
Did anybody miss me at all? I was gone for a spell — visiting kith and kin [but more of the kin variety] in sunny Cagayan de Oro, part of Northern Mindanao that is the biggest island of this floating landmass called Pilipinas. That short vacation was what I needed for the final stage of my decompression mode.
My family has a cottage in one of the hills that are part of the mountain ranges near the city airport, past the Macahambus Cave and canopy walk. The place where my family’s cottage is comfortably ensconced is quite a secluded area, which was formerly home to some ex-members of the New People’s Army group. Ideal place for Continue reading