Facebook

I do so depise the trends of this world. All these "cool" people walking around talking the same way, wearing the same clothes, doing the same thing: robots, I tell you. Robots.
Ah, well, there's a lovely little saying that goes: Use it, don't abuse it...or...don't let it use you.
So, use it I shall. --Facebook that is.
Before I take off, galavanting across the world, to visit family and relatives that I've never seen before, I buckled under and made me a Facebook.
Dedicated to Jo, I said, because I find it completely unfair that as her bestfriend my contact with her is almost nil, and other people post all these things on her Facebook as if they know her but much. Well, I say they don't but much at all.
In passing, while someone else was logged on - when I still refused to join all those Faces, I saw a Maria Santayana. --Still haven't stumbled across her yet since I've got me a Face. I'd like to find Paul, Dunaldo, even Jec. Roisin or Vince, anyone?
Oh well...all in good time.
Now, please! Let me stop getting flooded by those darned Facebook messages in my email!

sam

So we're having a mid-day snooze (a rare treat these busy days, and even more exceptional when it's "we" and not just "I"...anyhoo...) and as I'm barely waking outta my snooze, Sam (also barely waking outta his snooze) says, "Are you awake?"
I'm not sure of my exact answer, I think it was something to the extent of, "Kinda. Why?"
And then he kisses me.
"That's why," he says. Then he closes his eyes to catch another minute or two of sleep before the alarm officially wakes us up.

Tiny little acts like these, burst with so much love.

I can't, and won't, claim to have the perfect relationship. But I do have a wonderful one, and the best that I could've asked for...that is, I would've asked for it if I had known better. --But I didn't. And I didn't initially look on the beginnings of this relationship with the most endearing of thoughts. And marriage definitely wasn't on the list as being an option or even a possibility. But I'm glad there's Someone who knows me better than I'd like to think I know myself.

So, for all those girls out there who have their "standards" and "preferences" and "types" and all those high and mighty ideals of who you will or will not [whatever] with. LOSE them. Or you may just lose out on something greater than you could've ever dreamed up in your own limited scope of "you".

And, for Sam: I love you. Happy Birthday, my love! You know I love you more than I could ever say or show. So, I won't waste time trying. I love you.

(I would've posted a picture of Sam, but since I have no photos on this computer...nor is there photoshop...a cupcake will suffice. It is a birthday post after all.)

here's to gibby

For Gibby's birthday I will recount a little story:

Once upon a time at the farm, we decided to take a ride out on Gibby's bicycle with a sidecar. We took turns riding and driving. Of course I rode more than drove...weighing up the given facts, of course.
We rode/drove past muddy dogs running through the rice paddies on either side, and we even passed a cow tethered to some form of anchorage along the side of road so it could eat freely without running away.
And then when we felt our eyes had feasted on enough rice paddies (the ONLY thing in sight, aside from the distant mountains and the blue sky and an occasional bahay kubo out in the middle of the paddy), and we'd had enough riding and driving, we decided to head back. This time the cow was sorta in the middle of the road, and we hemmed and hawed about how to get around it. Thankfully, some how, we managed and kept on going happily down the road ... for about two seconds.
All of sudden from behind us we hear the pounding of hooves on the dirt road. This tethered cow's almost-full-grown calf (forgive me if an almost-full-grown calf actually has a name...I'm not cow-savvy) is charging at us at full-speed. We're not really sure why, but we're really very sure it can't be a good thing. With no time to think, we both get behind the bike and push it, running for our very, very dear lives. I don't think anyone has EVER since Gabe run so fast. After awhile the almost-full-grown calf gets distracted by the tall grasses that line the sides of this rice-paddy road, and stops chasing us. Gabe and I, panting for breath (forget the sigh of relief), break out laughing our heads off, in a completely we-feel-like-completely-stupid-children way.
I think we were 17 and 18 at the time.

Now, as of yesterday, Gibby is 27. So, Happy Birthday GabeGuy!

Thanks for all the mangoes, and guavas, and pomelos, and other market-booty that you always save.

the devil is an earthworm

See, it goes like this:

"The serpent" mucked up on a very large scale, and brought a curse upon his entire house and his seed. The curse is that we will be their enemy, we will try to kill them (specifically by a good ol' whack on their heads), and they, in turn, will try to attack and kill us (specifically by a sneaky bite at our heels). Gen. 3:15
But, the "original serpent" himself, he gets no such privileges. He'd like to think he does, so he keeps us thinking that he's still a "snake"...and at times, tries to protray himself as really cool, as in the case of pet pythons, huge anacondas, kingly king cobra, rattling rattle snakes, and what have you. But truth be told (according to the gospel of Anna), he's just a gross little squirmy earth worm, who loves darkness cuz his deeds were evil. He crawls on his belly and eats dust all the days of his life. Gen. 3:14
Now, see, God really pulled a fast one on ol' Mr. Wormy Squirmy here. The devil's plan was to destroy the beautiful garden and man, but then he got busted. So God demotes him to an earthworm, and curses the rest of his family and relatives and relative's relatives, and so on and so forth. Not only did God demote him to worm status, but made it so that Mr. Snake-turned-Worm's very existence replenishes the earth. So Mr. Wanna-be Earth-Destroyer, now has no choice but to do the earth some great good...it's either that, or his own death, since earth is the ONLY things he eats.
So, ashamed of this, he crawls himself deep into the ground, hoping no one will notice him and his life-long doom. --Especially not some crazy kids looking for fish bait, or worse yet, some worm to throw into a jar with a couple leaves (he only eats dust, remember?) and no poked holes in the jar's lid. Oh, woe is his lot.

Yes, my friends, the devil is an earthworm.

uh...

This is sort of a disclaimer, not really sure how or why...but...
I haven't written in a very long time. My style has always been very straight-forward, and at times, a little (sometimes more than a little) kooky and non-sensical. I don't know what will come of this blog...or my writing. This might just be one of those many things that are meant to go somewhere (not sure where), but then end up getting left on the side of the road and forgotten about.
But we'll see...we'll see.

slightly outside of typical

(Warning: If you are a girly-girl, a squeamish girl, a "posh" girl...don't read this.)

I have come to a solid decision. I want a toilet in my mansion in Heaven.
The reason: because I realized, that to me, the toilet is one of the greatest symbols of love.
Wait! Hear me out just a little while, and let me explain. You may just agree with me in the end, and then Heaven will be full of "toilet orders", they'll have to start rethinking their mansion designs.
Some people think of "love" as a beautiful bouquet of red roses, a glittering diamond ring, a house, a car, china...a dog (now what's with that? "A dog is like having a child..." Yeah, my *).
Now while all these things are nice and good and pretty and fairy-tale-ish and giggly and warm and fuzzy and what-have-you...it's sorta surface love. Scratch it a little, and find out what kinda love it really is. Will it really last? Could it last through nose-picking, burping, farting? What about taking a crap on the toilet, smell and all? Toss out the red roses, the nice clothes and dinner dates, the pretty stuff and the frills. Get down to the nitty gritty.
I know many girls who would scream, use a bunch of typical noises like "Eeewwww", "Ugh"...and in some cases, maybe a full entire word like, "Groooooss!!!" and start hiding away their faces like a no see - no hear - no speak monkey.
The less-than-pretty details can be skipped...but suffice it to say, the surface has been not just scratched, but completely removed, in my case. And while I may not be able to see all the way down to the deep, deep bottom of love's ocean floor, I know as much as to want a toilet in my mansion in Heaven. --A toilet to remind me of just how great a human's capacity for love is, and how it loves everything: the good and the bad, the ugly and beautiful, the sad and the happy, the angering and the endearing, the easy and the frustrating, the tears and the laughs, the smiles and the scowls, the sensual aromas and the naturally less-than-pleasant ones, the cool hobbies and the terribly irritating habits...love conquers all, love loves all.

P.S. Besides, it's a wonderful place to be in when you're past all the "yucky and gross" stuff. Your relationship will be so much more comfortable, relaxed and enjoyable.

(Note to the girly-girls, the squeamish girls, the "posh" girls...I told you so.)