Caustic Thoughts

In Barney’s Belly

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 01:21:00 +0000

After years of whining, my long suffering husband finally decided to give in and rent a place for us to nest on. Our recent transfer explains my long absence from the blogosphere.

For once, it felt great to be severed from my online haunts. Finally, I am the mistress of my own kingdom although the color of this kingdom gives me the crossed feeling of experiencing Dora’s vibrant Latin roots and being inside Barney’s belly in the middle of an indigestion. The mustard walls seem both uplifting and maddening. No vomit inducing technique however will ever force me to exit Barney’s belly. I’ll stay here for as long as it takes to get my own place with the right colors.

I’m supposed to be flipping with glee and giving Barney an even more severe tummy ache but as with everything else, there’s always a price to pay. Aside from the numerous multi-legged pests that show up with little warning in the middle of the night with the seeming intent of killing me by surprise, I find myself missing part of the reason I left my home of six years.

I had thought that what I wanted was to be away from the boomithng noise and perpetual happiness that exemplify THE Filipino, but seeing my toddler in the earliest case of inconsolable depression I had ever seen and my husband nearly in tears broke my heart to little bits. The worst part is that whatever they have seems contagious. When once I was happiest on my own, I find myself missing the endless pork feasts, drink fests, chatter sprees and karaoke marathons not to mention the mountains of plates that have to be washed afterwards. After six years, I am finally becoming Filipino, I think.

I wonder if moving into Barney’s belly has been for the best.

Like Soft Drink Cans in a Row

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 08:48:00 +0000

To the utter disbelief of some of my friends, I wrote a post here somewhere lauding the work ethics of some government employees. Some people I know still don’t believe that there are some public servants who aren’t made to make life for the public difficult. There are some good bananas among them. I swear.

Recently though, the other side of government employees which my friends are all too familiar with, clouded my eye like a mass of eye boogers (muta for the uninitiated and rheum for the language police). Yes, the picture here is a picture of government employees watching a.) stars fall down from the sky; b.) a basketball game or c.) their reflections on a puddle of water during office hours. To give them the benefit of the doubt, let’s just say they’re having a legitimate break. Wow, so many people on a break all at once, huh? If I’m not mistaken there are three or four floors to this building and they all have people on a “break.” It’s as if there isn’t enough work to go around but taxpayers still have to pay their salaries anyway.

I once thought they looked like birds on an electric wire, preferably a live electric wire, but they also look like soft drink cans all lined in a row. The kind of cans my brother once used for… um… target practice.

I Don’t Want to be Darth Vader

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 08:51:00 +0000

I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. I hate having to write for a living. It feels like having ethyl alcohol for breakfast (yes, I’ve tasted it) or having nosebleeds upside down. But I share the fate of Anakin Skywalker. The sequels of my life must have been written way before the prequels and I am doomed to take the form of the looming shadow behind me. Anywhere I go, I am taken seriously only when I parade an esoteric array of words that never cease to impress those who struggle to use cat and dog in the same sentence.

I find commercial writing the hardest to do. When I was still in school, I had a feeling that my papers got As because my teachers involuntarily rolled over and performed dog tricks every time they read words like “traverse,” “tribulation,” and “incontinence.” Business clients are not so easily tricked into parting with their juicy bones. Because their major interest is to sell, they prefer words that even real dogs can understand. When a composition is stripped of its gilded trappings there’s nothing left but either a really understandable paragraph or a naked fool of a sales pitch.

Somehow it helps to be Filipino. I suspect that my husband would rather dance the Can-can than sweat under the midday sun and my mom would rather join a Japanese game show than squeeze some sign of life out of students who are less enlightened than dead fish. But because we are Filipinos, we do what we have to do and just bite the bullet. So Luke, I really am your father.

By the Power of the Bump

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 06:55:00 +0000

I’d forgotten how powerful a baby bump can be. It seems the bigger my baby grows the more I can strut with reckless abandon and expect everyone to clear the way. They really do. All of a sudden I never have to stand in line and people immediately vacate the donut stand when they see me coming. My baby plays his part to a tee. His limbs move every which was as if to say, “Move over.”

This only really happens though when I am in a standing position. Although I am due next month, my belly is small and when I sit, I just look like I have a huge beer belly and people have to look twice to confirm my condition and my gender.

I can feel it my bones though. My boy is going to be a little Napoleon of sorts--- all that huffing and puffing in such a small package.

Mar and Noynoy

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 14:47:00 +0000

Politicians who kiss babies (or drive them in sidecars), use the elderly as props and demonstrate the leakiness of their childhood residences leave a bad taste in my mouth. Clearly, even poverty itself is being exploited. Because majority of our people can comprehend little else than daily bread, the bid to demonstrate who can relate the most to the underfed has replaced substantive speeches and debates.

Since most of the candidates parade shamelessly in borrowed rags, I thought I would have to skip voting yet again rather than risk vomiting on those shiny new million peso counting machines. Recently though, the sidecar driver caught my attention and might just change my mind.

After spending an inordinate amount of cash that defies my ability to count on infomercials, shedding pounds of perfumed sweat driving two scrawny kids in a sidecar and soiling expensive soles on a wet market, Mar Roxas has declared his intention to withdraw from the presidential race in favor of Noynoy Aquino.

He doesn’t care that he is more qualified. He doesn’t care that Korina Sanchez will lose the chance to be first lady. If purging our country of thieves in high places means stepping down for a more popular, less experienced man, Roxas is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice even if it means having wasted campaign money and a weeping Korina.

It’s obvious. No one would have thought of pushing a reluctant Aquino into the forefront if Cory, his mother, had not died and if an emaciated nation had not been thrown into remembering the moving rhetoric of his martyred father. If not for the turn of events, Roxas would still have had a shot driving those kids all the way to the presidential living room. But I suppose Roxas is right. He does not matter. This country does.

I know what I do not want. I do not want a president who had a 2001 net worth of P67 million that ballooned like a gangrened foot to a 2008 net worth of P144 million. I do not want a presidential son who was worth P5 million in 2002 and is now worth more than P99 million. I do not want public officials with unexplained wealth even if they technically cannot be called thieves yet. No one wants even just the suspicion of thievery hanging in the air, not the hungry, not the silenced, not the oppressed. Getting what we want may mean shoving the reigns of leadership into the hands of a lesser but more honest man. Noynoy will not dare shame the ghosts of his parents or he’ll asphyxiate to death in a sea of yellow ribbons.

The question is whether Noynoy will step up and do justice to Mar’s sacrifice. We’ll find out in a day or two. It will take several years though to find out if we’ve been had by yet another unraveling circus side show.

Facebook Yourself

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 09:35:00 +0000

I once had the misfortune of having had to open a Friendster account for work purposes. If you think, “Well that was fun,” the nonconformist in me was not so amused. Now that the main reason for the account is no longer pressuring me to be falsely amiable and to have a pleasing personality implant, the account has retained the appeal of spit on a wad of tissue. Now I am thankfully back to brooding and plotting the sabotage of primetime telenovelas.

Then I saw him once while I was surfing the net in pathetically continuous waves of boredom and disillusionment. That smooth, pale skin; the outdated glasses and the half a coconut husk haircut diplomatically parted at the side as a compromise were unmistakably his. The air of friendly geekiness gave him away even more.

I would never admit to having a crush because I am a candidate for the yet to be established nonconformist award but he was probably the closest I could get to having one. Strangely, I married someone who is the exact opposite, one who seems more like an over grilled minion of Hades on rehabilitation than ideal husband material.

It’s been more than five years of fantastic culturally rebellious living with my buff, gruff, brown husband. Seeing the geek however has made me think for a fraction of a second of connecting with the other side. After all, they say Facebook is to basil and thyme as Friendster is to Maggi Magic Sarap. The supposedly sophisticated, some of whom have varying sizes of artificial implants, are all in Facebook. Of course, there are also genuine gems I might have the pleasure of meeting there.

I’m not sure. I’ve been getting invitations to open a Facebook account for months and every time I get one, an internal switch makes me blurt, “Facebook yourself.” The geek may not be worth the aggravation.

More Instant Math Help from Guaranteach

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 01:18:00 +0000

I want my daughter to be an engineer just like her dad. I’m not going to deny that my main motivation for pushing her in this direction is the economically challenging times. I don’t want her to suffer the same way I’m suffering because of my competence in English and my obvious lack of the same thing in math.

Sadly, my kid seems to be more inclined towards letters than numbers. I can tell from a mile away that she’ll need more than the average kind of algebra help when she hits the teen years. Thankfully she is a child of the digital age. These days she can get math help from sites like Guaranteach.

Guaranteach is an online tutoring site that features short videos on thousands of math topics. Videos are approved by professional teachers. Video access for $9.95 a month seems worth the cost if it means giving my kid the right edge.

Football Shopping Online

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 08:42:00 +0000

Because sports culture in this country is more American than local, football here will always be soccer. But my husband is a soccer player and an avid fan of Manchester United so to me, soccer will always be football to the utter consternation of my former English teachers.

Incidentally, my husband hasn’t had a lot of opportunities to play football in recent years. My countrymen are so hooked on basketball that football isn’t just a backseat passenger but trunk luggage. I still plan to let my kids play the sport though.

Because the sport isn’t so popular here, my husband used to have problems looking for football merchandise and equipment. Luckily, my kids live in the virtual age so by the time they grow big enough to play the sport, they just have to look for football shinguards and cleats on sites like Shop Wiki. Like other wikis, this one has guides and links to external stores. That beats having to buy second hand in online auctions or having to move heaven and earth for the right gear.

And the Meaning of Life Is…

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 09:32:00 +0000

A thought came to me on a warm and unholy night as I was listening to the self-confessed miseries of an intoxicated 57 year old man. Just what do you live for when all your kids are grown up and you are all alone? What do you do when you are old and weary and you have no kids?

I know of others. At least three of them are approaching the twilight years single and unattached, having spent the duration of their lives caring and providing for their biological families. Whether their status is by design or out of necessity, I can never tell.

I am uncertain too if living mainly for others is a fact of Filipino life. I am nowhere close to unraveling the meaning of life and I suspect I would not come close even if I were also to intoxicate the very tips of my toes. But it seems a pity when one cannot live for oneself.

The spiritual are most fortunate because when the self is insufficient, there is at least a higher being.

I have nothing, nothing, nothinggggg eeeef I don’t haaave youuuuuwooo…

When Numbers Fail Me

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 03:45:00 +0000

“Whoever said money can't buy happiness simply didn't know where to go shopping.”

---Bo Derek

To the utter dismay of my husband, words never failed me, but numbers always did, which allows my husband to get back at me for not failing at words by relying on my inability to compute his exact monetary worth. I wish I could use words to earn tons of cash but in the Philippines, the kind of words I excel in can only earn either impoverished fame or the ire of the politicians with the big guns.

According to CNNMoney.com, the highest paying jobs all have something to do with math skills. I hope my daughter takes after her father and finishes a course that can actually pay the monthly bills. They say money isn’t the answer to everything but it sure helps to have some.

Can People of Other Races Get Mesothelioma?

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 03:40:00 +0000

One of the most popular terms in the internet today is mesothelioma. This is a rare but deadly form of cancer that affects either the lining of the lungs or the abdomen and is apparently caused by prolonged, unprotected exposure to asbestos. Pleural mesothelioma which affects the lung lining is more common than the peritoneal type and may develop if asbestos is inhaled.

Patients in the U.S. are only now discovering that many employers and companies may have known of the dangers of asbestos but chose not to say anything about it. Which is why even if a patient is at an advance stage, they may choose to find legal recourse for their families with the help of mesothelioma lawyers.

Mesothelioma prognosis is poor simply because it can take decades after exposure for the condition to be detected and once it is detected, it is often already at an advanced stage. But yes, it is possible to survive from this condition even when doctors say you can't. Survivors can attest to this.

My husband works with asbestos and the knowledge of this deadly disease has put me at the edge of my seat. Can people other than Americans get mesothelioma? The answer seems all too obvious. As they say though, knowledge is often a good defense.

Aquino Dies at 76

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 03:39:00 +0000

Former president and Philippine icon of democracy Corazon “Cory” C. Aquino passed away today at 3:18 a.m. at the age of 76. She died of colon cancer.

May the nation’s mother rest in peace and may democracy live forever.

State of the President’s Emoticons

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 03:19:00 +0000

You know you’ve grown old if you can listen to the president’s State of the Nation Address without fidgeting, yawning or thinking that there are worse things than death. You know you are older still if you can sit through the entire SONA and end up criticizing every line and facial twitch.

I discovered I’m not very old. I managed to sit through only a few snippets, those parts where she turned the other cheek and still managed to send acidic spittle via satellite towards her critics. It was like watching an ugly parade of emoticons on the president’s sleeves. Wouldn’t it be horrible to be remembered for that speech?

Then there was the usual display of colorful feathers. I suppose running a country takes more than just average gray matter and she must have done a good job making sure that those esoteric economic figures behave. I know I would not have done a better job. But sadly, the noodle eaters of Tondo cannot relate to the numbers that denote her success because they can only comprehend the presence or absence of food, their only measurement of a politician’s success.

This is why the new batch of presidential aspirants have made it a point to stress that they grew up in the slums feeding pigs, that they can give pedicab rides to the sons of vendors and that they can relate, with matching tearful looks, to the plight of the poor.

Consulting Online Shops for Maternity Fashion

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 09:28:00 +0000

My belly has just passed the seven month mark and has forcefully eliminated my preferred line of fashion. Even as I approach the twilight of young adulthood, I have always been a fashion rebel. I have successfully shunned traditional mature office clothing without looking like a trying hard grandmother in denial. My husband however, now thinks sweat pants and shirts are in bad taste in my swollen state.

Fortunately, my last defense has not completely gone down. Last week, I was able to get a few items at the plus sized clothing for women section. There were at least a couple of pieces there that did not come in pink or have ruffles, ribbons or flowers that pretty much characterize most selections of maternity clothes in the city. I’d have a real problem though in one to two months when even plus sizes would look horrendous.

Perhaps I should consult ShopWiki again. As I mentioned in a previous post, this isn’t an online store. It’s much more like a website that contains links and references to a vast number of shopping sites, making the search for products and items more comprehensive. They now have a section for special sizes for women’s clothing including maternity clothing. I hope I can find a few items that aren’t too flowery.

Memories of Yore: In the Days of Mailmen

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 07:42:00 +0000

Before money transfer services and courier companies, there was only the government owned post office. I remember the days when relatives abroad used to write on folded and glued papers or greeting cards in between which were a few pieces of green paper with the faces of American presidents on them. After the “how are yous” and “happy birthdays” they’d write in convoluted, cryptic codes detailing the whereabouts of the hidden stash. Somehow, SOMEONE always found it first and we’d get mail with lots of scotch tape as if SOMOENE fed it accidentally to a pet Chihuahua with issues.

The post office always got blamed. I wonder if they really were to blame or the relatives never really sent Franklins and McKinleys.

Those Pretty Little Things They Call Wine Glass Racks

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 07:40:00 +0000

My doctor says the cream colored protrusion underneath my eye is a cholesterol deposit. I wonder if this can be an excuse to finally learn how to drink red wine. I’ve never been crazy for alcohol of any sort but well, you know, I’ve got lots of bad cholesterol.

But I’m afraid to start. My husband is already a regular alcohol connoisseur and if I join in, I bet we’ll have full bar glass racks in no time. We already have a cabinet full of shot glasses. I’m also obsessive compulsive and a stickler for organization so I will most likely be unable to stop myself from buying every kind of wine brand and stemware and setting them up on glass racks.

It’s hard to resist the urge to get pretty stemware racks once I start drinking. Looking at attractive wooden racks is just as exhilarating as a sip of pinot noir.

The Death of a Croc

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 07:30:00 +0000

I hate them and would rather be caught with my pants down than wearing a pair of them. I did make my kid wear a pair once because there was one free white pair and she had small feet. Mine are already large and hideous and a pair of adult, multi colored, butterfly enhanced Crocs will only highlight their Hobbit-like form and my utter lack of fashion sense. Besides, the price of one pair can already buy thirty six large bottles of beer for my husband or pay for one month’s tuition for my daughter. I’d prefer the beer for my heavily insured husband or the education for my girl than crocodile feet.

But I respect your desire and right to wear them. I may not have to suffer long though at the sight of your feet. According to a report from The Washington Post, the company that manufactures Crocs may be going down the financial drain. It seems people are cutting down on expenses or simply don’t need to buy another pair when they already have one very durable pair.

I may not like them but I find this sad news. It’s always a pity when innovative people who have met with some success suddenly find themselves at the bottom of the wheel of life.

When Death Makes Sense

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 03:43:00 +0000

“Death is the only thing left to respect. Everything else can be questioned. But death is truth. In it lies the only nobility for man and beyond it the only hope.”

---James Dean (1934-1955), dead at 21

Chemistry Help- Why Our Kids Don't Have to Burn Their Eyebrows

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 03:24:00 +0000

I often gave out the impression in some of my posts that nothing was worse than Physics and Algebra. There was one other subject though that came dangerously close to breaking my sanity. That was high school chemistry.

I suppose though that it wasn’t so much because my fantasy infested brain was too dull to understand acids and bases. I can honestly say, we had a teacher who seemed so strict and distant that I never dared ask her anything even if I risked burning my eyebrows or blowing everyone else to kingdom come.

Fortunately the new generation of high school students never has to suffer the eternal torment of weeping over a convoluted chemistry definition. A neat site called tutorvista.com offers convenient chemistry help. For about a hundred dollars a month, they offer 24/7 unlimited online chemistry tutoring and homework assistance. Tutors and students work on online whiteboards and in real time chat to figure out the chemical mysteries that sometimes get served as unidentified, indigestible globs in class.

Adults will probably have no use for further knowledge in chemical bonds and molecular structures. But our kids might still be able to put solid, chemistry foundation to good use. With an online resource like this, we can at least make sure they don’t get singed eyebrows or seriously displeased lab mates.

The Boss is Coming- Look Busy

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 03:18:00 +0000

My online romps took me to a site with a header button beside which was printed, “The boss is coming. Look busy.” I clicked on it out of curiosity and lo and behold, it took me to a spreadsheet with a graph and nasty technical gibberish. Imagine what work would be like if every fun site had these buttons.

Diabetes Epidemic in the Philippines

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 09:11:00 +0000

Fellow CDO Blogger Gabby was telling me during the dinner break from Toral’s presentation (see previous post) that I should get a second serving for the baby in my belly that had been gleefully squirming after having ingested a prohibitive dose of carbohydrates and sugar. I told him I couldn’t because a second serving of sugary goodness would push my already high sugar levels into orbit, earning for my endocrinologist an extra Php250.

Gabby’s seatmate, Mike, quipped that he met a guy from the Center for Disease Control (CDC) once. Mike opined that it seems that the Philippines is in the middle of a diabetes epidemic and proceeded to ask Mr. CDC what will be done about it. Mr. CDC answered (perhaps jokingly?) that they were going to let Filipino diabetics just die. Anyway, the country does have a population problem.

Gasp!?

The truth is that Mr. CDC’s revelation wasn’t really that shocking. It was amusing to say the least. My mother-in-law died of the complications of diabetes and it wasn’t because the CDC diabolically plotted to push her to her grave. She honestly went the way she wanted to, with a liter of coke in one hand and a platter of steaming pork and rice on the other.

Five years of living with a real Filipino family has taught me that Filipinos love booze and grub more than our impoverished existence. If you have to be in the muck and mire of a difficult reality, why not enjoy it the best way you can? Try to deprive us of simple sugars and all hell will break loose.

Digital Filipino Cagayan de Oro Networking Event

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 09:09:00 +0000

I am not one given to human idol worship. It’s not because of my fear of being stricken dead by a bolt of lightning even if Sr._____ told me it will happen. I can’t bring myself to idolize anyone because I can’t get rid of the notion that all of us humans are equal when we sit on the toilet.

I came close to bowing in semi worship when I finally met Janette Toral last Friday. She was in CDO for a bloggers’ networking event and I skipped an hour of work just to see her.

Toral is who I want to be when I grow up (I expect to grow a few inches with all the nutrients my doctor has been shoving down my hatch). I admire her not just because she is earning legitimately online, is the veritable first lady of Philippine e-commerce and is devouring the sights and gustatory delights of the country in the course of her work. She’s one of those on top of my list because of her sense of ethics and social responsibility.

I wonder how she began her journey. After more than two years of virtual citizenship, I’m nowhere close to idol status.

*Photo by Chiq Montes

Earning Online? LOL…

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 09:02:00 +0000

I’ve met them, the bloggers and NETrepreneurs who earn more than the manicured managers who dominate but turn with the wheels of corporate slavery. These virtual citizens who fan themselves with wads of green paper are around us and no one can tell, not even agent Smith of internal revenue.

But these folks didn’t get where they are overnight. It took most of them months and years of constipation, broken nails and bad breath (for not using their mouths often enough) to succeed online. That’s why it’s laughable when my spam box spills over with offers to teach me how to become an online millionaire in ten seconds for $49.

Fortunately, there are guys like Havi Gold who constantly remind us of reality. Every internet newbie should visit his page, itsjustaparody.com before even thinking in $ signs.

What Drives a Computer?

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 09:00:00 +0000

I’ve had my fair share of hair pulling and head banging. When the computer doesn’t work, I hyperventilate and start throwing a mini tantrum as if the inanimate object before me will all of a sudden quiver and bow to my every whim.

There can be a hundred reasons why all these gadgets I don’t know the names of don’t work the way they should. I’ve been told though that computer drivers may be part of the reason. Apparently, every single piece of hardware needs a driver to work.

Before the dawn of time, cavewomen like me had to manually sift through an infinite number of drivers. Thankfully driveraccess.com has every driver imaginable from motherboard drivers to mouse drivers. For non techies that’s almost like being in a state of nirvana.

Last Minute Down Under

noreply@blogger.com (GraceMags) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 07:25:00 +0000

My brother lives in Australia and he has been around the place. I’m not exactly sure if he is like many of our countrymen who prefer to travel at the last minute. His mother in law boards boats just when the crew is about to remove the gangplank. Just in case he shares the same trait, I’d know just where to point him to. Lastminute.com.au is surprisingly one site I’ve taken a liking to.

This unique site features a full range of last minute options for Australian travelers ranging from last minute flights to last minute accommodation. They have information on major airlines such as Qantas, Singapore Airlines, Jetstar and Virgin Blue. The best part is that the information provided includes cheap flights and cheap last minute hotels.

Now if I can only get him to spend a bit so I can share some of his flights.