find a's blog

My Pancit!

find_pageturner — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 11:01:19 UT

more often than not, on any occasion and wherever, gather around the restaurant table, or call for made to order food to be brought to a BYOP school activity, the "pancit" is on the list.

the noodle/ or the pasta come in different shapes, and we still call them, "pancit", a one-dish fool proof meal for every pinoy.

so what's your pancit like? deep fried with toppings? guisado with seafoods? with seasons veggies? let me think...let me think

i just took a picture of my version today. i used veggie meat,and fresh greens from the garden ( kangkong and alugbati)

yummy

Breakfast, anyone ?

find_pageturner — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 08:34:54 UT

Nothing beats a healthy, yummy breakfast, you'd skip snacking!

Look at my plate! I have rice, friend tofu,corn&egg omelete and hot & spicy sauteed bean sprouts

Mangaun Ta!

My Vegetarian Experience

find_pageturner — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 11:45:12 UT

It's been months and months that I haven't updated my account, and i could count many reasons why, and decided to pop up today:

Been on vacation, travel, got sick, busy at work, internet line cut-off, oh you can add more!!! what I'm excited to at least start exploring is my vegetarian experience for sometime now.

Hmmmm...am I writing again???

http://findheartworks.blogspot.com/

Happy New Year To All, who hopped in, dropped a note, read some notes, greeted me on my birthday, wished me wonderful holidays, and left with warmth.

Remembering Mama

find_pageturner — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 04:28:07 UT

Sixteen years ago, I lost my mom to a vehicular accident. From Butuan City she was airlifted to Cebu City and confined at the hospital where she had comma for 11 days. Her physical body did not last to endure the head fracture and on the 12th day, we witnessed the removal of all the attached wires and tubes from her petite figure.

I could remember that her final breath was a relief for all of us around. We were crying as her body turned colder and colder. And that was it. For the next hours and days we kept reminding ourselves how our mom would like us to be when she's gone...more so, start from the basics, how she wants her burial to be.

Yes! that's our worry, we were so conscious how our mom likes things to be in proper order, in other words, she was so "maarte!", and we love her for that!

Why were we so worried instead,of the most absurd things to think of in the midst of so called "lonely" moments of the family? Its because, we knew that at anytime,our mom was ready to go.

-------
thanks to friend Sheri (sfharper) who inspired me to write about The Voice.http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/429107/the_voice.html?cat=34 A story about second chances.

-------

Dayuday

find_pageturner — Thu, 29 May 2008 07:14:00 UT

Dayuday is the tribal version of the violin. Its a Binukid term ( the dialect spoken by the Bukidnon tribe) in Dalwangan, Bukidnon, Philippines.

The tribe is ably led by Bae Inatlawan, a symbol of composure amid pressure of the outside world. So much words were written about her. A glimpse to their daily activities, the accomplishment they've gone in the Ancestral Domain Claim are telling how she's made as a leader. Actually, not nearly enough.

This SPEEDvideo for her leadership is likened to the Dayuday...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2EMaoZlCGw

an instrument that makes melody, the melody that creates music...the music that brings people together...

The scene happened at 5:30 in the morning of April 20, 2008. So early? But the kids are already up, waiting for breakfast prepared by the youth. The venue is the "Tulugan" or the daraghuyan Cultural & Heritage Center. Take a look at the candid smiles of the kids. While i shot the pics and took the video clips, the kids were not camera conscious...for the reason that, they're used to it, their community is already receiving guests from all over.

I've been with them for sometime, and have witnessed how kids are honed, the Daraghuyan way.

I hope you'll enjoy watching as i enjoyed stitching the memories back!

I met my first love, the second time around

find_pageturner — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 07:47:16 UT

On February 14, I met my first love. Again. Meaning, the second time around.

A friend told me that she was in this meeting with a ballet teacher, and his studio is just around the corner. And mind you, he accepts adults! Hmmmm… Ive been looking for a studio who accepts adults in their ballet routine. Maybe now is the time.

So I checked it out. True enough, a little introduction, recital stories, the accident I had in high school which made me stop dancing, and the 20-year break....and I'm in! Hehheheh

my previous blog on that ballet shoes goes...
http://en.netlog.com/find_pageturner/blog/blogi...

Oh no, not for recitals, but just for workout.

Now what do you call that,
did I hear it right, midlife crisis ???? hehehheheheh

crossing the bridge for a change

find_pageturner — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 08:44:34 UT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Hur0I1hh1I

Will you cross the bridge when you get there? I had this line labeled in one of my pics here on netlog.

It’s a common question to ask when you want to explore something unknown…something that’s beyond the usual… something you haven’t tried…

On my birthday, and for a change, I took the leap on deciding to throw a party… not for me, not for my family, but for the kids of the Bukidnon tribe.

I crossed the bridge and the steps took me to a colorful and meaningful event to meet the kids of Daraghuyan Ancestral Domain.

My guide and escort Lorie already informed the youth leader that we are arriving, so she made mention of having lunch together and some parlor games. My friend Chy, who introduced me to the idea of visiting the kids whom their group has assisted through networking for their school needs, was on vacation. So basically its was just me whose a total stranger who arrived at the Daraghuyan Tulugan in Dalwangan, Malaybalay, Bukidnon.

The tulugan was packed when we arrived at 10:30 on the morning. Lorie, proceeded to prepare our lunch while I proceeded to do as instructed according to their custom : to give the “batasan” to the tribal chief Bai Intalawan, and narrate my purpose of the visit.

I was well received, and Bai explained their custom of presenting the “batasan” before any visitor could be entertained to express his/her purpose. As we discussed, everyone was listening intently, and Bai mentioned that every time there’s a visitor, the kids and adults alike are encouraged to gather around and listen to stories and custom, which form part of the activities tribal school.
Presentation of songs and dances followed. The 28 kids present were wearing their costumes. they divided themselves into groups and danced to the beat of the drums and the melody using the pipes. Everybody knows what the other is doing, and they took turns in beating the drums, blowing the pipes and playing the rest of the musical instruments . As dances and songs were performed, Bai explains their meaning.

It was so colorful. So meaningful. I did not have time to cry coz I was busy documenting and talking and listening I wish you were there!

While I was conscious if the candies and give-aways would be enough, the kids and youth were too concerned coz they said, they have other good dancers who are absent!

the bridge that will take us to the other side come in diferrent forms. how easy or hard is the trip, we are sure that something worthwhile is waiting to be discovered. I've made my first trip... I know there is so much to do, and more steps to be taken...to help the Scholars of KIN.

---------------------------------------------------
Many of these bright children who are talented dancers, musicians, clay artists face a premature end to their education.

For more info, contact KIN at : kitanglad_1995@yahoo.com

Cool blooper

find_pageturner — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 05:17:20 UT

Busy, techy days in Davao… there’s a day that we were freed to go outside the workshop venue and gather materials for a 5-8 minute video documentation. I’m with Marg and Kotoy, and our group chose to do the FRUITS OF DAVAO.

Sunscreen was ready but with the scorching heat and with the task at hand, I cannot paint our funny faces while we took videos and pics along the fruitstands, in the market, and along the sidewalks of select places in the city. While kotoy was taking an angle at crates of fruits being loaded and unloaded the trucks, Marg was calling me from across the street to point me to the fruit vendor who was peeling pineapple.

It was very strategic to keep the pineapple clean, and keep it from falling, the fruit vendor was using a bamboo stick to hold it like a barbeque in one hand, so his other hand is free to maneuver with the knife.

From where I am, I could already see the peeling process, so upon reaching the spot, I immediately clicked on the video… but I was already late. The pineapple is already undressed! Sensing I missed something, the vendor asked me what I wanted to see so he can demonstrate. What a gracious offer!

I told him I am taking videos and shots of the different fruits in Davao, and I was fascinated by what he does by peeling the pineapple. So he simply said, “ Utrohon nako maam” –(“ I will do it again, maam!”)

You know what he did? On split seconds, he just got a pineapple peeling from among the pile on the basket, propped it on the pineapple, and mimicked a slice! Whooala!!!

Cool blooper…

That’s one thing our teacher didn’t see on final report, or so we hoped
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pO-EYGh6HU

but what’s with cut and paste if not done at the right timing? Whew! editing that only the people behind the scene are privileged to know, completes the package of learning.

practice, practice practice

12/12/07 find

HOW I MET A BEST FRIEND

find_pageturner — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 15:42:53 UT

Of different times, of different circumstances, of different labels, we meet the persons that leave the marks of how we are today.

We were in Grade Five then, and I could recall we were at the lobby waiting for our turn. It was the time to screen for contestants to represent the school during the Home Economics Convention. The line was long, everyone was anxious to be called since the price to be chosen come in a bunch: a chance to see other schools, a time to meet new friends, a skip from the class, and as for me, a chance to see my crush!

the girl behind me shared her nachos, so, I poured for her half my lemon juice using the container cover, while I drank the rest. We chatted, sat on the pavement, ate our snacks and forgot we’re on for the screening.

But oh so, so,so were selected, which meant we have to compete with each other first, and who wins will represent the school. Huhuhu, tough ! ( do you know for what event it was ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh it was for stitching the Straight, Diagonal and L-Tear !!!

A question came to me for a while. Was it a coincidence that we were chosen? Or was it because, both our moms were Home Economics teachers? Whew! Interesting! But I knew, we did our best at it. The question came only later.

To cut the story short, both of us reached the Division Level, and on that level, she placed First, and me, Second.

I could only smile and dig more happy escapades every time i replay the exchange of words in my head, I just cannot recall who said what first. These were the lines…

Naa nakay “best fiend”? ( have you already got a best friend
Wala pa…(none as yet…)
Ikaw? ( how about you
Wala pa pud… ( none either)
Sige, “best friend” nata ha!? ( So, let’s be best friends!
Sige, “best friend” na ta! (Ok, we’re now best friends!)

From then on, we were inseparable. So much good times to enumerate, and a number of misunderstandings settled. At one time, we were in tears, and literally shouting at each other while both of us holding the umbrella coz it was raining so hard!

Now , a question just came. Why so? We were so young then, and yet we tried to stick together. Isn’t that a wonder?

We stick to what we thought we were during our first meeting. ...we declared, we were best friends!

Im 20% blogger, 30% visitor and 50% spectator only

find_pageturner — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 03:32:08 UT

Sad to note that I cannot pay a visit all the time, rarely do PM, and so am not able to reach out to all my “friends” on the list…so its true, a “hi” to some this week, “hello” to some the next event….sign the guestbooks ( and when I sense its been a while, I sign again).makes me think, ‘am I a friend?’ oh, this thing on the net…

Im 20% blogger, 30% visitor and 50% spectator only.
that’s being detached, I know,(an absentee friend but how can I be present today, when im nowhere to be sensed for the next couple of weeks or so? So I make it a point not to delete the page ive started. Anytime and anywhere I am, I maybe visiting my site and the others.

the others, who are not even on my list, the others whom I have denied to accept, the others whom have deleted me, the others who have made comments and encouraged me to express myself ( but im afraid to invite In the light of being absentee again)…

Whatever the status is, listed or not, have exchanged thoughts or not, when we see each in person…just say your netlog name, and we are friends!

I really admire the exchange of ideas on netlog. This community has a certain culture that bind frequent bloggers and spectators alike.

Those who survive here have a lot to share. Im a fan! Keep blogging!

--------------------------------------------------------------
im posting this comment i had with TJ. just to update my little corner....just to let my other friends know im just around

http://en.netlog.com/tinklingjade/blog/blogid=1...

BRUISE ? OR SHAME?

find_pageturner — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 01:08:24 UT

I t was in 4th year college when I had a clumsy motorcycle accident. It was a downhill drive from the commercial center towards the main entrance of the university gym. The witnesses : a throng of students coming out of the gym, just after their respective PE Classes.

i was the driver, and my best friend was behind me, gripping my shoulders and was shouting to the top of her lungs. A stone from nowhere was thrown at our direction which caught my attention and got me out of balance

motorcycle staggered for a moment, and sped forward( or I was gripping both the accelerator and the hand break at the same time). Ouch we were tossed to the ground, and the next minute, we found ourselves at the canal.

I could feel the stunned faces beaming at us. i was in shock, i felt so numb all over. i pitied the broken motorcycle whose tires were still spinning, before i thought of my friend who was with me, I asked if she could walk… what was audible in all she said with the sobs was, “please hail a taxi, its so embarrassing!”

I was imagining a broken bone, my wrist was bruised and the blood now started to come out, my jaw and cheeks are numb. I couldn’t move! So I told my friend, “I cannot even stand! How I wish we could just disappear from around here!”

What a shame!

What a bruise!

So funny and yet revealing to recall that we were conscious on how we looked. We could have broken our limbs, or it even cost us our lives! What could have our parents felt! How could have our mothers coped?

All these boil down to make one realize how different it is to fill ones shoes.

find/10/17/07

A MOTHER'S PRAYER

find_pageturner — Mon, 15 Oct 2007 02:42:19 UT

Lord God Almighty,
who knows His sons and daughters by name,

Continue to mold my child through us,
his parents and teachers.

Let us all be reminded
that our deeds are good works in the sight of every child;

Sustain us, not to let a day pass
without a rub, a hug, and,
a reminder that calling on You always will make things right.

Today is another day for my beloved,
his life is under Your greatest and loving care.

Amen.

----------------------------
for my only palagudo! 1/30/2003

PROUD TO BE PINOY

find_pageturner — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 14:23:02 UT

Anthem= a song as of praise, devotion or patriotism. A piece of sacred vocal music, usually with words taken from the Scriptures.
----------------------

Recording artist, Kyla, did her job well in singing the Philippine National Anthem before the crowd awaiting the boxing bout of Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao, against the People’s Champ of Mexico, Marco Antonio Barrera. for the WBC title in Las Vegas , Nevada,USA.

While everyone was excited for the first bell ring, and restless for the opening rites to be over, my attention was glued on hearing the Lupang Hinirang to be sung.

It was last week that I knew that Kyla was chosen to perform in front of the international audience. I do not know her, nor familiar with her voice, but at the back of my mind, I was thinking, if she has to represent my country, she must be good. Otherwise, I have a bias on some artists whom I have actually heard, singing the national anthem.

Everyone was glued to the live telecast at 11 o'clock this morning. I waited in silence. My heart pounded equally for the rendition of the song as well as the result of the fight. I clenched my fingers like witnessing the first stage performances by my brothers when they were in grade 1.

I recognized a girl wearing a white mestiza dress early on, even if the shoot was taken from afar, a top view of the boxing arena of Mandalay Bay. It was only when the Philippines’ turn was called, when the artist was focused by the camera.

Why am I excited? Because there have been a lot of engagements werein the rendition of the national anthem was not as good, in fact, too bad the singer would prematurely stop at the second to the last stanza, or sing it twice, a twitch of the voice, or go out of tune.

Well, accidents do happen, and these imperfections do not exempt other countries anyway, but the distraction can surely make something amiss. We celebrate the victory, but there is this, ‘could have been better if the national anthem was sung well!’ ….

Whew! Its like awaiting for the final touchdown of the aircraft on the runway. We hold our breath, so that in case the touch is bumpy, we are able to brace ourselves and hold on to the seat.

The patriotic song ended “… Ang mamatay ng dahil sa iyo…” Kyla delivered it well

The long wait is over, the cable networks have earned much, small carenderias who put up television sets just for the purpose are counting their occasional big sales, the deserted streets during the 12-round bout became busy again.

The ‘Pambansang Kamao”, as Manny ‘Pacman’ Pacquiao is dubbed, won the fight. One way or the other, this gives a message to every Pinoy to check on what he does, and continue to do it better.

It may come as an assumed character to be proud of ones roots. But can I live with that? Is that enough? Just how far do I have to go, to tell myself that I’m proud to be Pinoy?

Feeling my hair standing on ends everytime the Lupang Hinirang is sung, makes me tell myself, I am !

Telling it, doing it, and living it, there are more ways than one on which I can give back.

find/10/7/07

the BALLET SHOES

find_pageturner — Wed, 03 Oct 2007 10:10:55 UT

Summer of 1984, my friend Trisha and I were brought by our mothers to Manila for some exposure at what we do. Trish at the PETA, and me to experience a 3-week long workshop at the CCP. That was hard work, a series of “first times” meeting new people and learning new techniques. Coming from a far province, a trip to the capital just to have a summer workshop meant a lot. We were overwhelmed.

A year later, and with some serious intention of doing ballet while in college, an accident paved a way and signaled that I go slow. I have a structural defect in my lumbar area that will go worse if I push through the strenuous routines. The doctor says : No, No, No !

For a year my toe shoes hung in my closet, and the next year when the ballet school held its summer costume-hand-me-down party, I gave it away. I gave it with love and without regret.

Until today, ballet is close to my heart. The sight of little girls in their tutus going for the recitals always bring a warm smile, and a thought, I’ve been there.

Ballet corrected my poise. Giving up the ballet shoes taught me about surrender. It is a choice.

find/ 10/2/07

BODY POLITICS

find_pageturner — Sun, 30 Sep 2007 03:16:09 UT

as for a man, a look at his mother-in-law gives him a hint as to how many inches his bride has to go. As for a woman, knowing her father-in-law’s state of health and lifestyle gives her a peep, not at the finish line, but at the starting line of the race.

Ouch ! let’s talk about body politics.

do you think that make-up, piercing, tattooing, dieting and body building make you beautiful? Sexy? Are looking beautiful and sexy the same thing?

We read articles about dieting
or ways to make him/her find you sexy again…
we read about vertical lines, coordinating colors…
Glutathione or metathione ?
pill or the injectable?

the list is endless…

what makes you feel good about your body? about yourself? are they different?

let’s explore about body concerns of others that are different from our own.

and more importantly, let’s learn how we can truly be rooted to become better persons

find/9/30/07

HELP WANTED

find_pageturner — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 02:39:02 UT

I remember my best friend in college, called me one morning at around 6:00 o’clock, for some cooking directions. Her boyfriend is having breakfast in her place after his morning jog, and any minute from when she called, she’s expecting him right at the doorstep…and she hasn’t prepared viand yet

She would have wanted to impress him, but pride took her to the 24-hour grocery section of mercury drug store the previous night, picked a can of corned beef, 5 pcs of onion bulbs, a loaf of bread, a tray of pigeon eggs and a pack of dried mangos. She told herself, I can be anything more but today, this is what I am, this is what I have. The corned beef recipe is all I can deal with. ( I got the whole story when she finally decided to marry her guy of two years, when we had a girl talk over coffee last week).

The call was short, quick, direct to the point. As I lifted the receiver, she was sure that it was me who answered the phone, and she said , “Hi, good morning, my new boyfriend is coming, you do not know him, we will talk about that later, he’s coming over for breakfast, I bought last night a can of corned beef, I have 5 onion bulbs, vegetable oil is ready, I have the pan ready at the stove now. There’s a loaf of bread but I forgot to buy some spread. What do I do?” She sounded terrible, at the same time giggling.

The voice at the other end of the line was in panic, but I knew she’s happy. Here’s a girl who has something up front, needing to be pushed, coz her mind refuses to think anymore. We really had a good laugh when we had the rewind of that incident.
And I remembered my response to that, I was surprised myself to be panic stricken also when I started to open my mouth. I had to take a deep breath before I could give that simple instruction. I said “ Ok, don’t be too excited, you might hurt yourself there. Slice the onions, all of it, preheat the oil, sautee the sliced onions, followed by the corned beef. Pour half a cup of water, then sprinkle salt and pepper to your taste. After 2 minutes, you’re done. Then toast the ….bread.”

“That simple? Ok, pray for me, bye now!” I heard her blurt it out, before I could finish my last word. What more can I say?
When we had that rewind portion, I asked her, what happened to the corned beef ? She said, “Oh it was well appreciated, but I wasn’t able to serve the bread coz it was cold, you forgot to remind me to have that toasted… but luckily, there’s that Pandesal boy who made a detour since he could not pass by his usual route, so I was able to fix the table right on time!”

Now I see, she didn’t hear me say – toast the bread !?!? Hehehe, I’m just glad I’ve completed the instruction for the corned beef recipe!

Call that selective memory? You remember what you have willed yourself to remember. All through the night she was telling herself, no other viand, no pretentions, no trying-hard menus, just this corned beef recipe. So there, she was sure of getting the instruction. From me. And she got it.

The next time somebody calls for help, I pray that selective memory will keep me in just a safe margin.

find 9/25/07

Ponder on SELF-CONTROL

find_pageturner — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 01:05:04 UT

Here's some points that struck me about self-control.

..... A man or woman may be pefectly self-controlled and morally corrupt at the same time. In fact, self-control can allow one to do greater things than he/she would otherwise be capable of, just as it also can allow one to serve the Lord with greater success.....

Self-control, not an end in itself. Interesting, we know it all along, but when put into black and white, give us something to think about.

find 9/26/07

WHEN WORDS FAIL, WHAT DO YOU DO ? (still on Words@Play)

find_pageturner — Mon, 17 Sep 2007 04:31:19 UT

Something moves me to explore how sensitive adults react when one ingredient in communication fails: WORDS.

So what if words can’t express what’s inside? What if the lack of it breaks a heart that only the passing of time heals? Is it worth the wait? What if your words cannot convince the other person to take your side of the coin?

Many of us get back the composure knowing that hugs and kisses come to the rescue when words fail. They blur anger, resentment, ill feelings and bridge the gap, the distance and time missed. But, are they enough?

How about anger? How is it relayed when words fail to express how bad you feel? Is it now the excuse to make cups and saucers fly?

Let’s talk about politics. A friend of mine got a call from a city councilor, trying to convince him to run for the 2007 barangay council elections, in the city councilor’s own barangay. The caller went on to say, that the mayor has scheduled to personally visit him. Why the invitation? He is currently the councilor of his own barangay and is confident to get the 1st councilor’s seat this October? It is a compliment that he is being needed in the other barangay. Otherwise, if he won’t capitalize on that thought, it would be an insult on the loyalty he has to where he belongs. Whew! So, he told the city councilor: “kindly tell mayor that he knows pretty well I cannot say “no” to him. But my answer is No! I’ve already closed my mind.”

Sometimes, hugs and kisses can ride the flying cups and saucers even when one’s mind is closed.

When words fail, what do you do?

find/9/07

ARE YOU OK? (still on Words@Play)

find_pageturner — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 07:41:52 UT

AMANDA
Half past ten in the evening and Amanda came at my doorstep, with three bubbly sons in tow. They were on their way home, probably haven't taken dinner yet. From school, I presume Amanda walked her kids back to her office in order to clean them up and assist them in their assignments. Today she missed her target sales of "polvoron," she badly needed the sum for transportation.
Tomorrow, they are bound to go to a convent where a friend is waiting. He or she had better have something for Amanda and her kids since the scheduled visit took a toll out of my emotion... so I thought What now? I just have a ten peso coin in my pocket, nothing in my bag, but i feel the need to help my friend. So I borrowed from the hard earned savings of my assistant, and gave Amanda a crisp one hundred peso bill.

Amanda has had a life that speaks of violence, anger and hunger. The pretty face whom friends used to know is no longer there. Many times over our meetings as we exchange “how are you?” , “are you ok?” - - the immediate reply would be “ I’m fine, I’m doing ok”. And many of the “ok” reply , I would know, are not A-OK. The pangs of pain is written all over her face the last time we met.

Tonight i saw hope in her eyes. I didn't prolong our meeting purposely because first, its already late in the evening, and second, I'm giving her space not to explain herself again and again.

We prayed together before they left for home. What matters now ... reaching Christ's arms in prayer doesn't need a ten peso coin or a crisp hundred peso bill !

find/5/07

THE BAD AND THE BADDER !?! (still on Words@Play)

find_pageturner — Tue, 11 Sep 2007 02:52:27 UT

Having installed Skype in the office primarily for easy transfer of files to our branch offices, gave us the liberty to chat and “meet” people all over the globe. So there, profile complete with contact numbers, addresses and set to SkypeMe mode. And you know what SkypeMe means, anybody could just pop in and type the most friendly or the most gross thing (in most cases, hoping to practice the “English” language, or even try it out to act differently from what they usually do or are perceived to be doing in public).

Not excused, the days took me on to receiving unsolicited messages saying: wanna have cybersex? cam to cam? Do you have mic?...and etcetera and etcetera. For a number of days and for a number of times a day, its NOPE, NO CAM, NO MIC, SORRY…YOU ARE A BAD MAN!!!! So how do you deal with that and make these people understand you deserve a decent conversation? Whew! Harassment for free, huh!

How do you get a pass out of that, I’m sure you have been creative enough. My finale was when I collected myself before anything could go worse. The lines, I encoded on MSWORD was copy-pasted whenever needed. And it sure turned out really effective. Turned out to be a real turn-off. The gist goes in the most basic staccato English., like: hold it across the door jam and close that door!

The next message read : “You are a badder woman!”

Hehehe…bad!

find/9/07

STORYTELLING (still on Words@Play)

find_pageturner — Wed, 29 Aug 2007 04:35:30 UT

English majors survive their course with nonetheless creditable stock of strategies enabling them to impart the Why’s and How’s of communication. After all, what are they here for?

But what about mothers, having to muster office work with household chores, feeding the children, giving assistance for school assignments – in a crush course ! Not to set aside storytelling, especially when kids refuse going to sleep without hearing them…plus the lullaby!

Between 0 to 2 years old, mom has to battle with her favorite hits. She digs her own favorite lullaby when she was little – which is not enough though. Then she rummages through college files of songbooks, and to top it all, leafing through metallic rock songbooks.

Storytelling with my own kid did also go through stages. When he was 2, butterflies and airplanes flew from one chair to the other; fire trucks and racing cars sped from under the bed towards the other end of the room. At 3 to 4, storybooks were read, re-read, revised and reinvented, events were inserted. Just to make each story, a different story.

Then came the ordeal when he turned 5, when he wanted his own version expounded and incorporated with the characters. One of the seven dwarves had a birthday party; Cinderella’s friends were too many they had to quarrel as to who will mend the dress, until it was torn to pieces; Superman had a baby brother who held on to him wherever he flew; Batman was so fat he couldn’t ride his batmobile anymore. Whew! And, so much more.

Now my kid is 8 ½ years old, storytelling is not much of a burden to me and his father anymore. He has his stories to tell, lots of them.

And when he reads this story, I can imagine that super-extra-ultra-robotic grin in his cheeeks.

06/2002

CHILD ABUSE !??!!?? (still on words@play)

find_pageturner — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 09:35:03 UT

The Bantay Bata 163 television program must have gotten deep into kids hearts ( AND THE WORDS PER SE), way back in 1996. At one time, my 2 year-old son happened to find a hiding place to assemble his gadgets and robocops. It’s in a corner of a room, and were he’s at is partly hidden by piles of big appliance boxes containing old stuff. My husband was throwing pieces of articles to the boxes like shooting in a basketball game. And hit or miss, he occasionally throws rolled papers in the direction of my son. After several throws, he could not have contained it, my son got up and pointed his fingers to his “Tatay”. He shouted, “Child abuse ! child abuse!”

WORDS AT PLAY

find_pageturner — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 17:50:39 UT

Most of us mistake a word for another, and most of us express one way, while we are supposed to mean the other way. What ever it means, it now depends on the person saying it, whether he/she opts to edit his word as it is conveyed when uttered, or the meaning now lies on how the hearer receives the message, of which again depends on his/her emotion at that time. A word, when heard, or overheard may mean so much or nothing at all, depending on the circumstance, the tone and the emotion at hand. Words spoken can make or unmake a person.

Words at play attempts to explore the different medium of communication in the Philippine setting. Other than gesture accompanying a word, tone of the voice, the emotion put into it, a word spoken however it is spelled and pronounced, pile the very essence of how one now is able to communicate.

What about words put into black and white? Books, magazines, newspapers are digested by people who have time to read, who are able to read. Technology advances communication by text messaging and typing on web chat, not to mention how business is propelled by the quick turn-over of the new systems and gadgets, enhancing words with mood environments and emoticons.

Words at play enhances community. Friends try to connect with one another by updating of events of their lives for the past years. Kids update their parents of the lessons during the day, movies seen, nice adventure participated in during camp and just about anything.

In the Philippines where family ties are closely knit, many grandparents find more time to interact with grandchildren than thy used to have with their own children. Although different factors play significant roles in molding our children, we take pride, and indulge in their pampering.

People agree or debate on issues needing much exchange or words. As vocabulary plays a vital role in ones ability to reach out, a stress on a wrong syllable and a slip in pronunciation limits understanding . While patience and loving kindness stretch the ability of people to exchange ideas, the lack of it spark the embers of anger and chaos. And what more can a wrong word do to mean something that’s really not the real thing !

find/8/07