Memory lapse

For the record, I have to blog this one right in; else it'll slip off my head again.

I couldn't put the blame on my mefenamic acid intake, but since the week began, I've been running around headless. Well, I sure have a colorful history of forgetfulness to boot, but this week was proving itself to be quite a cut above the rest. And to be frank, I'm alarmed!

Monday:

I forgot the keys to my room. My cousin asked me to buy CFL lamps and a socket for the kitchen...I arrived home from school all alone. Where have all the lamps gone? They're still at the store.


Tuesday:

After waking up, I placed my cell phone at a strategic corner of our bedroom to keep it visible for me to snatch it up just before setting off for work. Aware of that daunting habit of absentmindedness, I begged my cousin to remind me of my CFL errand. As I checked on my bag for my phone an hour later, ta-dah! No phone. Still stuck on that strategic corner, I presumed. The whole day, I had to stubbornly hark back where I placed my pen, what I had to get from my office desk, etc. At times, I would forget who I was supposed to call up the moment I reached for the phone's receiver. Somehow, minute information chips off my head along the way at a 10-second step interval between our communal PCs to the phones...Oh, and yes, no CFLs yet again.


Wednesday:

Though still high from my pain killer intake (for throat infection I suffered from the night before; Self-medication. Please don't try that at home), I still had it in my head that I had two appointments to attend to in the morning. This time around, my cell phone’s tucked in my bag, but for goodness sake, I forgot my room keys again! I went to listen to a friend's lecture/presentation at my college. I knew I was running late for one committee meeting, so I scrambled out of the lecture room a while later. As I pulled up the glass doors and announced my presence at the meeting place, it was only then that I realized that I was one day early from that appointment. There, there, today's Wednesday not Thursday...And the CFLs? I dated all my correspondences one day late and apparitioned to a meeting a day early, and you ask me about the CFLs?! Why am I not surprised?


I hope I'm not getting any worse all throughout the remainder of the week.

Serenading the Rivers

I've been talking quite a lot about motherhood in my last two posts. And so while we're on the subject of parenting, I might as well delve into fatherhood to complete the picture.

I've personally witnessed people turning away from their filthy habits to good for whatever reasons (i.e., spiritual or tragic experiences), but the miracle of having a child of your own still never fails to blow me away.

I celebrate with a good friend who has recently been introduced into the blissful realms of fatherhood. I've never been this proud at how much he has matured as a person, and I could attest that I've never seen him this happy since we first met. He wrote this song as a tribute to his Rivers of life. I imagine him making more music (to the tune of daddy-ing) in the days to come.

TAKE ME AWAY

Take me away
My river of hope,
Get me through despair.
I'm hopelessly stuck
In stagnant misery.
So take me away
My river of hope.

Take me away
My river of love,
Get me through this grief.
I'm lonelier than
A drifted dry leaf.
So take me away
My river of love.

Take me while running through your course,
and drift me away from it all.

Take me away,
Carry me on,
Drift me away,
Get me through this life.
Take me away,
Carry me on,
Drift me away
My river.

Kaloy

I mentioned in one of my previous posts about my nephew Kaloy and how he has been giving me a sneak peek into that complex yet joyful universe called motherhood a lot lately. And for that, I decided to spare a while and write something about this toddler.

His mom and I go a long way back, us being first cousins and that we practically grew up together here in UP. Being the only son (as of yet), Kaloy is an extremely pampered child, as with most solong anak (only child) we have around. But what's so surprising about this kid is that he enjoys simple pleasures. Mababaw ang kaligayahan. He'd rather have your time saved up for play with him than your neatly-wrapped presents. I'd tell his mom, "You're fortunate that he's a cheap kid! At least he's not a brat." If there's fried chicken and tortang talong (eggplant omelet) served before him on the table, he'd quickly go for the talong! He prefers those 30-peso toy cars over the matchbox cars. My cousin told me that most recently, when they took him to a toy store for him to splurge as an advance Christmas treat, he picked up one of those fragile cheap remote-controlled cars (Php100 each), while his father bargained, "Are you sure you really want that?! Don't you like one of these nice (a bit expensive) race trucks instead?" But no, he wouldn't let go of his precious 100-peso car. He proudly showed it off to me when I got home from work that night.

One time, I asked him to tag along with me to a convenience store. After getting all the stuffs I need in the basket, I asked him what he wanted for himself, "Do you like ice cream cups?" He only shrugged off his shoulders and playfully shook his head in reply to my offer. I smiled at him and recalled on the side my childhood grocery trips with my mom. How I felt my world crumbling down at age 8, whenever I'd take my chances at asking her if she can get for me a tetra pack of chocolait (milk-choco drink).

And now here is Kaloy, with his aunt trying to spoil him just for 5 minutes, not clawing in!

Kids like Kaloy are not hard to please. He's very appreciative. He also happens to be my inaanak (godson), so this Christmas, I think my purse wouldn't be sore if he'd retain his "cheapness". But even far more than that, I'd go on hoarding 30 minutes of my time every single day and play cars with him. Those tender minutes with him have become a training ground for my patience, integrity (a promise is a promise) and creativity (imagine having to hold the same cars and pretend the same play everyday!).

Sometimes I wish he'd stay as a child. But since that's a hopeless wish, I just hope that he'd never forget our minutes spent together as he grows up. I had lots to thank him for.

Journals never lie

Long before weblogging came into being (I think Doogie Howser with his trusted WordStar-loaded XT PC started all this *wink wink*), I was into personal journals/diaries dating to as far back into grade school. Little did I know that manifestations of my lifetime affliction of OCD could be traced back to as early as my first decade on the face of the planet.

For starters, I was just fascinated at scribbling down non-chalantly, my day-to-day activities onto a special notebook, without really meaning to reserve them neither for occasional recollections nor for mere posterity. Wala lang. Somehow, I've found serenity in those notebooks I've accumulated over the years. They have become my sanctuary.

Journals don't lie. They would never lie, this I know for sure. Buried beneath those words borne down into those pages, no matter how much these have aged over time, are the deep-seated emotions and ingrained convictions one can never deny to have ever felt or acquired. You know for certain that it was no less than you yourself, and no one else, who've had those thoughts conceived at that very moment. It's a genuine testimonial of who you are and what you have become later on.

Having said that, I never saw such chronicling as just another clichéd girly stuff. Personally, it has done absolutely far more greater impact on me. Sentimental is the appropriate adjective; only that it's rooted miles and miles deeper.

Miscellanea

Some random thoughts.

I skipped blogging for a while to make room for a bit of "scholastic writing". The sem ended three weeks ago and as the new one sets right in next week, I need to take serious business of my thesis. If I'm not careful, my thesis might end up sounding like a compilation of blog entries. And that wouldn't seem like graduate school, would it?


--o0o--


One time last week, Vincent and I passed by one slum area on a confined lane on our way out (to main road) and as always, exchanged observations along the way. On days like this, we'd make use of our stock of synonyms in order to steer clear of causing offense to whoever might overhear our small discourse. Vincent's contribution that day was, "When a conflagration breaks out here, they wouldn't appreciate those flashy SUVs they or their neighbors own." "What does conflagration mean?", I queried. "Weren't you into high school journalism?", he gushed. "Tell me about it, I'm no writer.", was my casual reply. "Well in my high school, profound words are often used to transform non-controversial articles into controversial materials...conflagration is just another term for fire." What do you know? A one-syllable word could grow into four syllables overnight. Hehehe. Word play.


--o0o--


An officemate talked me into buying a small bottle of virgin coconut oil. Though the product has no therapeutic claims whatsoever, I still purchased the product anyway, for 2 reasons: (1) additional sale for my vendor; and (2) to test its "nut powers". The bottle stood for days since the first day I brought it home, until at long last I found out that my cousin was actually taking spoonfuls of it for two days now. Last night, I tried spooning one after dinner (the brochure says take one tablespoonful after every meal). Blech!!! Minutes later, I headed for the john.


--o0o--


I couldn’t get over those nice copper-brown loafers I fitted in Mendrez (shoes shop) last weekend. It was a cheap pair and yet I resisted so much not to bag it in, considering I had (read: past tense of have) extra cash to shell out at that time. And now, I’m on my knees, wishing that those were not the last pair on stock. Never mind the “new arrivals” sign posted just above it.

--o0o--


Kaloy's (my 4-year-old nephew) fondness of playing cars with me boosted up into a regular 6 o'clock habit, forcing me to quietly sneak into my room at times, especially when I'm so dead beat from work and couldn't afford to spare some time for play. Lately, this boy's been giving me a peek into motherhood and oh heavens, it's one noble calling indeed. Our little recreation made me contemplate as to what kind of a mother would I be (given that I would become a mother) in the near future, thinking how tough it would be, now that I'm just being an aunt to a nephew. Maybe motherly instincts will apply when I get there.