Firefly In July

Betchabygollywow!!!! It’s almost a month since my last entry here… I almost forgot I had a blog!

I traded my it for Facebook.  Eversince I got hooked in this social networking site, it has occuppied most of my computer time and writing anything has become a forgotten chore.  But can you blame me?  I thought its just a replica of Friendster, only under different name, but I was wrong.  Its far more amusing, more interactive, and more amusing.  So  amusing that I shifted from a blogger to a farmer.

It’s still small.  I ran out of money after buying that farm house, with doors even smaller than my avatar’s head, and not much left for expansion.  So now, Im back to planting corn, sunflower, wheat, and holding myself back from splurging on those lovely flowers.

Alright, that settles my nagging Firefly conscience…. I have to go check my crops if they’re ready to harvest.

The other day, I did something unintentional that alienated me from one that had been a silent observer of my domestic life for almost a decade.  The loss did not sink in instantly… it was later in the day, when it was becoming obviously uncomfortable that I began to feel the burden of the absence.  It was tough.  I could not sleep, even when I had something better to take its place, it was not the more practical choice.

It all started when I noticed its dreadful state early in the morning.  I had been willingly surrendering to languidity over the past few weeks, ignoring the slightest urge to give it just a bit of attention.   I’m guilty of being lazy.  That fateful day, it was hard to turn a blind eye any longer and so I decided, it was time to stretch these muscles and give our electric fan some tender loving care.  I swear, my intentions were good.  I was making up for all the times that I allowed it to waste away in dirt.  But then, the pampering turned out to be damaging…. all those years of prolonged inconsideration had made me unfamiliar of its weaknesses and in one  resounding snap , one of the blades cracked, broke, and detached from the rest of the big part.  I destroyed it!  My immediate thought was to put it back together with a strong adhesive, but the realization that its a useless attempt dawned when Mark explained I cant fix a fast spinning blade that way.  The broken piece may still fly off and hit me in the face.  Good point.  So, its gone.

I will miss our old electric fan, its low humming that lulled me to sleep, its uncomplaining labor even when forced to function the entire day.  It never failed to keep me company and comfortable amidst the tropic heat.

I know, this is absurd.  Holding a connection with a home appliance.  But 10 yrs is 10 yrs.  It may just be a thing, but when I look at its broken blade, I cant help but remember, it was here when Mark and I were just starting our lives together.  No, I wont be building a pedestal or a scupture, but definitely it will stay a bit longer even in its unfunctioning state.

This past Sunday, I participated in a Fun Run sponsored by the company for the benefit of World Vision.   The day started a bit gloomy, it was raining the night before and it looked like it will not ease up before the early morning’s run.  Fortunately it did, with just a slight drizzle when we got to the Rizal Stadium where the event was to be held.  There were not too many runners in sight, blame that from the ever unpredictable weather that, at the very last minute, decided to tease and mess with the event. After an hour of waiting, the sun finally showed its face and vanquished the dark clouds,  temporarily cooperating with the still sleepy runners .

We started out with a few minutes of warm up stretches, simple dance steps to add a twist, then we were off to the starting line.  For a long time, sitting in front of the computer, typing and browing for hours had been my most reliable form of exercise.  So, the first lap went by like eternity.  Midway, I was already feeling a stinging sensation in my ankles.  I would have dropped out if not for the constant urging of my race buddy.  I silently wondered, what got into me to get myself into this.  The seventh round was a struggle and not wanting to collapse on my face if I’d push myself any harder, I just walked all the way to the finish line.  It’s the cool down, my buddy murmurred consolingly.

I knew I’d be hurting for a few days after the run, and true enough, I’m still nursing my sore legs and walking in a weird way until now.  I wont be doing it again.. no, not for a very long time.  But I’m glad I did it, anyway.  The run was for a good cause and I have the certificate and the colored strings awarded at the end of each lap to show off to my friends.  That’s good enough for me. 

It’s incredibly hot!  A few weeks back, the rain started pouring like there’s no tomorrow, low pressure and storms one after another flooded the streets and the weather forecast had everyone convinced that summer was over.  But lo and behold,  summer returned with a vengeance.

I ran some errands this morning and at nine, I expected the heat to be tolerable… it was, I thought, the perfect time to go out.  A few minutes outside and I was already sweating my face powder off… I should have never underestimated the power of the heavenly ball of fire.  Being on nightshift for the longest time, the sweaty situation coupled with the early morning traffic had become a distant reality.  Finding myself, once again, in the middle of it all  left me reeling and breathless and wondered how all these people walking along the long stretch of the avenue can still appear unaffected.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to parade outside all morning and the building that was my destination provided temporary relief from the scourge.  Had I stayed longer outside, my hair could have caught fire and dried up what remained of my boiling brain.

Times have changed definitely.   Summer heat and monsoon rains alternating like a revolving door.  I wonder what will come next.. the entire metropolis transforming into a barren desert or submerged under a murky lagoon.  I dont know if I’ll ever be prepared.

I saw Wilson’s photo taken  a month ago, and I am reminded how quickly time flies, even if… or I guess, even more, if you don’t pay attention.  It’s all in his hair.  His white shiny hair that now so nicely frames his face, got me thinking of the last time I paid attention or complained of my dog’s short short hair.

Wilson, has allowed time to take its natural course and bring back that wasted cuteness when he was pushed under the razor, scared but without a single sound of protest.

As the summer heat wanes, Wilson, with the natural patience bestowed upon a dog, is slowly restored to his glorious beauty.   Not anymore is he mistaken as a poor impostor or a poodle… his true breed is again evident with his growing white mane.   Patient and meek, the little dog gains back what he lost, unknowingly and without a fight.

I wanted to write about something else… like the recent victory of Pacquiao, and the dogs that Wilson met and befriended yesterday in MOA… until I read the tragic and disturbing story of Tengteng, the UP kitten. I was so enraged that nothing can get it off my mind, and off my keyboard.

Tengteng was a stray cat who lived in the university campus and survived through the kindness of faculty and students who cared for it and gave it food.  And that is in past tense… the fact is, Tengteng was brutally killed by one deranged student who claimed to have an extreme hatred for cats.  What’s even more infuriating was how the devil bragged about it in his blog then arrogantly branded himself , the Cat Serial Killer.  Apparently, Tengteng was not his first victim. He called it “The Accidental Crime” but obviously, there’s nothing accidental about it, by the way he recounted how he squashed his poor defenseless victim, then hurled it by the tail as far as his might can take.  I searched the internet for more information on this incident and it looks like the story has spread and had animal advocates springing to action. There is a law prohibiting animal cruelty and, even if the self proclaimed serial killer has deleted his blog, people had not turned a blind eye on his documented crime. His entry was copied, reproduced, circulated even more, then landed in the hands of P.A.W.S.

The killer is sick in the head, a pathetic moron who is more an animal than the cats he has killed.  Bragging of mercilessly jumping on a harmless animal is anything but barbaric.  I hope that his so called accidental crime will haunt him for the rest of his life.

(picture – Ming, our house cat.   His mom was a stray cat that we took in and cared for until she grew gray and old.)

It wasn’t a flashy celebration.  In fact, he didn’t have a cake or ice cream, or balloons, or even a special guest… not that he minds, really.   He was  oblivious of the special day.  He wasn’t expecting any gifts… all he asked for was a small piece of my already half eaten apple, a walk outside, and just quality time of  togetherness.

It’s been a year, but its as if time had not touched him.  He’s still that playful, unsuspecting little creature that he is.   There are a few noticeable changes though, like his transformation from a stranger to a master of the house slowly adapting to the routine and learning how to capture our attention.  Sometimes,  he drives us crazy with his willful dominance and disobedience, but more often, makes us laugh with his voice-modulation, probably communicating in that encrypted language that only he and his kind understands.  He has stopped giving his signature  suspicious looks and learned to demand for the simple things that makes him happy, like being perched on the window for a brief view of the solitary tree outside our apartment or a ride in the car and tasting the wind blowing his hair away.   His character has slowly unraveled, sometimes hardheaded, but unselfish and loyal all throughout.

He is not just a dog. Not just a pet.  He is a companion who has unknowingly endeared himself, simply, by being himself.  To our little maltese, WILSON, Happy Birthday! Cheers to more happy and memorable times together!

I had fond childhood memories of the Holy Week.    What I remember  clearly were the afternoon  church services with my grandma and cousins.   There were also a few weird rules that we had to follow:  in those days, gloomy attires were the fad and noise of any kind were strictly prohibited… we talked in whispers and never at the earshot of my grandma, lest we’d be called “hudyo”.  Bathing on Good Friday was regarded a mortal offense when the entire Christian community was believed to be under the saviour’s blood.  But Easter Sunday was a major celebration!  We prepared lots of suman and cooked  different dishes fit for a wedding party.  But those were the good old days…

Now that I’m all grown up and working in the big city, it is hard to observe those traditions.  In fact,  the holy week is not officially recognized as a non-working holiday for US based companies so we are stuck in the office doing our normal stuff.  So when my friends from the Cash group suggested a Visita Iglesia, I didnt think twice of joining.

We left at around 9 in the morning, right after our graveyard shift.   The sun was up and already expanding its scathing heat over the land, sketching the perfect backdrop for a Good Friday penitence!

First stop was the Sacred Heart Church.  It was just a short distance from the office and the five of us – Me, Kiko, Phen, Hazel, Ryan – walked under the blazing heat,  made it to the church all sweaty and panting, but undeterred.  We said our prayers on two stations of the cross and since our next church   is  much father away, we decided to take the cab this time.

We stopped at Manila Cathedral then San Agustin.  These ancient churches both situated in Intramuros,  had the effect of taking you back to the Spanish colonial era.  The only reminder of the present time were the vendors lining the walkways and, of course, we did not pass the opportunity of sampling the sumptuous local delicacies – kakanin of different kinds, squid balls, pancit, and grilled corn – and silenced the nagging hunger that we’ve been suppressing all morning.

We proceeded to Quiapo church, but the thick crowd made it impossible to even get near it.   We did not insist on even trying… the scene is pretty dangerous for nightshifters fighting off sleep and, at that point, thirst and sweat.

Kiko lead us out of the throng along with what seemed like secret passages and before we knew it, we were standing next to the one and only all-steel basilica in Asia – The San Sebastian Church.  I used to come here often when I was starting off as a young professional and some of my most fervent prayers then were said here. I am thankful for the reunion, no matter how brief.

Next was San Beda Church.  The instant I walked it, my jaw dropped.  How can I not have visited this church before?  It is not as big as the cathedral but the beautifully painted murals just took my breath away.  I wish I can come back here soon and tag along Mark with me.

(sorry for the blurry photo, it does not do the church any justice)

The last stop was the Archdiocese of St.  Jude.  Again, one of the churches that brings back nostalgic memories.  I used to attend the Thursday novena here, but since moving to Makati, I had not made it back until this visita.

For posterity’s sake, we took pictures in each church that we visitied.  Our small share of sacrifice overshadowed the call of thirst, exhaustion, and sleep.  Our observance of the holy week did not embrace the old rules of gloomy clothes, all-day silence, or non-bathing but it was one that left a mark and inspired us to do it all again next year.

Before I settled with the defunct savanna theme, I tried a dozen on my blog, straining my own and other people’s eyes with the frequent change.   Well,  I’m back to that theme-itching and fiddling with my page’s background… downloading..  uploading…  and soon discarding after only a few minutes of trial.   It’s a tiring undertaking, that earned me two afternoons of backache and dark eyebags.

Savanna was a good theme but I got tired of the dark background.  I wanted something light with just two columns, easily readable default fonts, and  one that wont distort my photo entry alignment.  Vidiyal,, which in Tamil means “the dawn of a new day”, had these primary considerations.    It’s the best I can come up with after hours of searching and experimenting  (well, at least the theme’s name is promising).  But here’s a feature that  I really like  – customizing the header photo is effortless.   For a technically challenged individual like me,  it’s actually what drew the final convincing.  Anyway, I think I did a poor job at cropping the photo and I am compelled to show the original shot taken, of course, from my ever  weekend park  Esplanade:

It wont be a wonder if, every so often, I will change the theme again.. until I give up and settle back to my original choice.    The present theme gives a little inspiration for my budding interest for photography… and maybe, I’ll stick with it a bit longer.