God Bless Ye Merry Auld Acquaintance

How’s that for mixing titles.  I’m beginning to notice a trend as far as Christmases go: less get-togethers, less people. 

Mother’s inaanaks, however, defy said trend and have managed to produce even more Christmas beneficiaries.  Does ninanghood really extend to progeny?  It’s ridiculous; my mother isn’t even (baptism) godmother to many of them, and I’ve always thought married couples are the ones who ought to give gifts to their sponsors, not the other way around.  Put that in, less cash all around, I guess.  God bless our country.

Things still manage to be as hearty as ever, but not as fun as things used to be — old friends passed away, the next generation in their families weren’t as keen on keeping in touch.  Many friends are not in the country — Mr. Shuli, Dr.Tom, Ellie Punk’s Master, Amazing Cross-stitcher, they’re still out there.  Hope you guys have a merry year-ender. 

We have the surprises, of course.  I especially like the story of an American, a Pinoy, and a Chinese who were shipwrecked on an island. The American took charge: “I’ll build our shelter out of this ruined boat, and you guys find supplies.”  An hour later, the Pinoy came back with firewood, edible fruits, and some game.  Evening came and still no sign of the Chinese.  “I’ve finished our shelter, let’s go find him,” said the American.  “I think he went that way,” replied the Pinoy, pointing to a pathway heading to a woody area.  They took the small road and headed deeper into the thickness of the wilderness, when they came to a dead end.  The two companions heard a howl from a distance.  “I hope nothing bad happened to him,” said the Pinoy.  Suddenly, there was a rustling behind them.  Neither man had weapons, and the American, apprehensive, drew out his heavy-duty flashlight to use as a club if necessary.  Out of the shrubs jumped the Chinese, who yelled, “Supplies!”

Where were we?  Oh, surprises.  Surprises abound!  T2jim, however, hands down biggest surprise of the year.  All the best… and use the Force.

And back to the missing theme, this year’s noche buena features just the fab four… the little spud celebrates his first Christmas with Mama, Ahma, and Diko.  DSTS goes back to work (cue maudlin Martin Nievera Christmas songs).

Little Liempo wishes Papa a happy birthday come midnight and he misses their kagat pwet ritual very much. :.( 

Cold, Red Incense, And Blur

Many Western cultures, including countries that once were under Western rule, celebrate Christmas to honor peace and goodwill to humankind. 

Originally, though, these nations were among the cultures who practiced polytheistic religions that more or less resembled and sprung from the Indo-European culture, which pervaded in Mesopotamia, Assyria, India, and all the way to Norway, Gaul, Greece, Rome, and other European countries in antiquity.  This explains why the gods in mythology sometimes resembled one another in function (i.e. Odin, Zeus, and Jupiter; Venus, Cybele, and Freya; Isis, Kali, and Kwannon).  Egyptian gods are also similar except for roles of some male and female deities that were reversed compared to those in most other cultures, earning ancient Egyptians a reputation that they did everything backwards.

It has been said from the great deserts sprang forth three great monotheistic religions: Islam, Judaism, and Christianity.  Islam and Judaism pray to one God only; Islam may have the prophet Mohammed, but he is not one Moslems pray to or worship.  In contrast, Roman Catholic faithfuls practice praying to patron saints in addition to the one true God.  Given it was originally transited from a polytheistic religion, and minor deities evolved to names of minor ‘saints’ to aid ‘conversion’ while retaining the deitic identities for the originally pagan races.

There are other Christian groups who do not observe the worship of saints.  However, they also recognize the belief in the Holy Trinity — Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, which is a comparatively more complex attempt to understand the one true God, and an essential component to Christian worship, including Roman Catholicism.  It is why I think, technically, and if you prefer to take things literally, the genuinely monotheistic religions today are only two: Islam and Judaism.

After the concept of Christianity was integrated into the existing Indo-European, polytheistic cultures as imposed gradually by leader of the vast empire, Constantine the Great.  The Christmas day we know was picked by the Roman Catholic Church.  In addition to the fact that Romans used transposition for their saints and feast days, the Jewish people also use an entirely different system for their calendar.  Therefore it is not likely December 25 is the exact commemorative date for the birth of the man we know as the Christ.  Christmas was originally a holiday celebrated in the West to honor Tammuz, the Indo-European deity identified with cyclical regeneration (he dies!  He lives again!), whose ‘mythic’ life integrates a love story with romantically suicidal self-castration!  If you check medieval holidays, there are other days with pagan origins most of which, like Christmas, evolved into Christian celebrations such as The Summer Solstice, Carnivale, Easter, Halloween, Martinmas, the Advent, Michaelmas, and Candlemas.

Islam does not celebrate Christmas, or even honor Christ as the deliverer of the People as Christ is descended from family patriarchs that, technically, cheated Ishmael from his birthright to Abraham’s clan, and Moslems believe Mohammed is the prophet who showed the people the Way.

The Jews, however, also don’t celebrate Christmas.  For one, they have not determined that Jesus is the Messiah.  The Jews were expecting the Messiah as a King as glorious as David, not someone who died, and then had the death interpreted as someone who ‘died for the sins’ of all, including Gentiles.  Secondly, if you check the books, most accounts of Jesus have not been actually detailed by Jesus himself, but by people who witnessed Jesus and his works. 

The most notable deviation from the traditional Jewish faith is the way life should be lived according to the records and letters written by the apostle Paul.  His philosophy talked of salvation for all — not only people of the faith, but including Gentiles, or the traditional heathens who did not observe customs dictated by God and recorded in the Torah.  It is also interesting that Paul and Jesus Christ never met; the apostle said he was inspired by the Holy Ghost to eventually convert from a consistent Christian persecutor to a Christian champion.  Perhaps these are reasons that contribute to doubts regarding Jesus as the true Messiah in Jewish tradition.

A slice of history that partially explains some of the great divides that we can never fully understand… but December 25 serves well to call many nations to remember peace and love and family and friends, at least once a year.  Merry Christmas to all.

                                                                           *****

DSTS, recovering from a fever, is still sniffling, and yet there he is with a mug of ice cream.  Great, man.  We headed off his day with an earlier visit to a church, a temple and mad rush visits to elders to pay respects to before they head off to their holidays with family and friends.  It’s like the Amazing Race, only we have no allowance from Phil and it’s hell to commute now.  Next week I’ll be lining up for government paperwork.  Hopefully some offices are still functional?  And I just realized I’ve been home for a week!  With a new SIM card!  And I haven’t received a phone call from the Bat Phone!

Okay… should I be thankful, or expect a dark cloud of foreboding looming over my head?

PS — Three cheers for the Liempo, now older and infinitely wiser.

Annotations In Long Hand

June’s probably not the best of months, but mid-June saw the birthday of T2jim. He reportedly had a lot of cakes, too, a couple of them courtesy of Elder Aunt, Tactical Genius, who had an excess supply from Red Ribbon that time. Gaad, Red Ribbon cakes! I miss Red Ribbon cakes! Of course there was the standard family dinner with the favorites on the menu. I’m guessing at least there should be spaghetti, gambas (a repeat request, but I don’t care, they’re great!), some beef, a chicken dish or a bucket from the Colonel (T2jim may live happily were he allowed to ingest poultry for all time), and Coke!  As always, I munched along, vicariously. Happy birthday.

End of June was definitely no picnic for almost everyone in a certain Poor, Poor Village commune floated as if lost in an M. Night Shyamalan story, all the while mindlessly yelling, “Aliens!” brought about by the larger, melanin deficient species. In a nutshell, we waited. And waited. And waited. And, wai-TED. And… zzzzzzzzz…

Wha…? I’m still here.  Anyway, there was this rolling snowball, and then, phoom. A weird development left a great, green-blue mushroom cloud in its wake. In our little world, Curly, unfortunately, was the chump, the Achilles heel, the weakest link, the one who couldn’t ingeniously harpoon fish with toothpicks in the shallows or hunt wild piglets or choose the right songs or possess a wrinkle-free rack to compensate for all those.  We’ll be seeing you with proletarian nachos sometimes, Curly; we give thanks for all the chores you left behind. And then there were four.

Cathy and Franc finally tied the knot. Thanks to the chaos, I couldn’t get to see them do it. I’m really happy for these two; Cathy happens to be also known as the Ang Silaw-Silaw Dragon of the coolest chicks ever to hit CAFA who belong to the strange sect of The Extraordinary League of Midnight Snackers. Her super powers include extreme neatness using tech pens on vellum paper during those blasted drafting classes, self defense using a tripod, and brain cell optimization (of the four of us, she’s the only one with a built-in disk defragmenter). She also possesses the best logic and sanity. 

Cathy and Franc were together for like, forever — they’ve been steadily dating since high school and have been tested through times both good and bad; I speak for the rest of us that we’ve been looking forward to what we only thought was inevitable!  It’s about time, and best wishes to you guys. 

I felt bad about not being able to attend for a number of reasons, but most especially because in addition to being one of the best pals anyone can ever have, Cathy gave me my verbal invite back in October 2005, and I even postponed a leave of absence set for May just to see them take the hot seat for a change.

There were two main reasons that led to this situation, first of which was back in May, Big Daddy required me to attend a trade show happening on August. So I had to apply for a business visa. Those ever accommodating people at the consulate, however, picked June 30th, the day I was supposed to be in Manila already to make the wedding the next day. When I got the interview date, I debated calling up Cathy to let her know… then I thought I still had this 50-50 percent chance if I get denied. I might still shoot for chance passenger. Then a week before the week, the Cloud of Supposed Foreboding loomed over Poor, Poor Village and the Ancient Ones announced a Ritual Disassimilation. On June 30th! I held a mug of tea when Big Daddy announced what D-Day was and he thought I lost my marbles when in response I looked up and muttered, “Is this, like, a sign?!”

June 30th, the Men manned the surprise chopping board while I wasted the whole morning at the consulate in charge of the southern provinces. Most of the interview time was spent lining up with the herd and listening to the Americans’ fluent but appallingly toned Mandarin. 

I was denied a visa on account of I “don’t have strong enough ties.”  The consulate officer snapped he couldn’t process my papers right after I answered a negative to “Any kids?” You know, before this, I didn’t know not having kids yet would be detrimental to one’s pseudo-career. I was kinda frustrated on the matter, too, because not only was the application an example of extreme highway robbery, I also hated queuing up for hours only to be told that my intentions did not seem like non-immigrant-like. Dude, I could not be more non-immigrant-like than I am.  Short of sounding sour-grapey, though as much as American pop culture will always entertain me, living with that culture itself is a different thing altogether, and not every Philippine national wants to live there. I don’t speak for everybody, ‘kay, but at least for me, I don’t.  I’m too set in my ways!  In fact, DSTS had to try every trick in the book to convince me that Poor, Poor Village is not that different from my routine then.  And for this trip, I could not pack my husband in my cabin luggage and I have to hang out with people who are five times my size!  The horror… what if we were fish? 

When I got back to the office, no one seemed to be depressed or anything, until Twink tells me Curly and some other people at the office were herded into a room and they all came out dazed and a bit sad they need to go away but nevertheless feeling like they won a lottery or something.  Curly and I had the final talk in which he says he accepted everything and there are no hard feelings.  Um, Curl?  You’re a nice kid.  But from Spoiled Brat, Gladys Chomper, Twink and myself to Jean-Luc Picard and Big Daddy, the consensus was you kinda suck with the job.  But we’ll miss him; he was to our team as Kirk was to Stars Hollow.

Big Daddy suggested I go home to try applying for a visa there, maybe I’ll have better luck.  Having seen the very long lines that form somewhere in the Manila Bay area on week days, I’d say my visa would be ready by the time I had we established my twelfth strong tie to the Philippines.  Mid-July, I crossed the border and managed to secure the stupid visa there because the local consulate picked August 24th for the next available interview… the show would be half over by then!  Good thing there’s an office in Kowloon Bay; technically, a business visa application there is still legit. There’s also less people applying for visas in Hong Kong, the better for my share of enclosed space.  It happened the consular officer I had to contend with was friendlier, too. 

DSTS was thinking I probably didn’t insist enough during the first interview. After three queues for five hours in those shoes?  Believe me, I sure as hell have.  The second consular officer gave me a “howdy-do” after which he grills me with info on what my husband does, how long he’s been here and which one got here first, him or me — the only thing I appreciated here is all questions on this round proved that DSTS was their lame excuse on my first try. 

Several answers more and Consular Dude resorted to trick questions to check if my answers were consistent. Then after further mind messing, he said they’ll process my visa, but I’ll be given the standard three month single entry after which he promises I won’t get a hard time the next time I apply.  Nuh? Don’t do me any favors, <insert icicles here> pal <here, too>.  I had to stay there for a couple of working days until the passport was done and sent by courier back to me during which I had to trek several times to meet with a Big Head for more design layouts and text proofing. 

And still a few days later, the third floor’s Mommyjet said goodbye as Daddymel needed to depart from Poor, Poor Village to seek the Great Buffalo where many men have gone before. We had a farewell dinner and Daddymel received tiny shoes. Take care you guys, we wish you all the best.

On the 28th, despite heavy downpour and a paranoid and totally unethical travel agent, DSTS heads for home yet again to fix certain matters that need fixing. I’ll be all by my lonesome most of the time.  I’ll probably have to talk to myself more often.  Or maybe a dog named Sam will keep me company.  Anyway, most friends know DSTS is like an Osterizer when it comes to chewing his food with precision efficiency.  I’m not.  But for some reason, he eats pasta more slowly than I do.  As it happens, I can consume a ton of pasta in one sitting as long so long that it’s not served with cream sauce. So while he’s gone, in the interest of convenience, I’ll be eating out during rush lunch breaks, preparing salads (no heated oil) and long term adobos (no onions) for slower days, and alternate those with pasta dishes (no cream sauces) on better days and the evenings. It’s kind of like camping. And Lock & Seal is my best friend.

PS — A happy baptismal to Jinkz’s third kid, Jinkz Nigel, and a happy birthday to his happy mama, Mrs. Jinkz.

Full

It’s not that nothing happened in February, okay.  On the contrary, February was chuck-loaded.

The first week was kicked off by our baby sister’s birthday (I wasn’t there, of course… and my share of gambas went to somebody else).  Then then natives of the Middle Kingdom came back into Poor, Poor Village with some hangover from partying the week away.  Disneyland Hong Kong was reportedly very congested. 

Middle of the month there were budget thingies, dreaded typos, and some assholes over there bandang Atlantic who attempted to take advantage of the typos.  Then there was a literal landslide, an announcement, a farewell, a meeting with a long lost friend, and an appointment with a contemplative baby. 

Big Daddy won’t be back until maybe in the middle of the year.  Probably the jet-laggiest person we know.  He isn’t too keen on what hasn’t been done, though, and expects better.  Hey, BD.  How come them thar toner pushers don’t come with a big To Do checklist with strings attached like the one we’re saddled with here in Poor, Poor Village every three months?

I haven’t finished a decent letter for this month. My blog sucks.

Absolutely No Place Like It

One cold day in December, DSTS harrumphed and proclaimed, “By George, Jillybean, dark sister of Dune, forsooth thine and mine non-refundable ticket left for this moon.  Shouldst we tarry and hie ourselves home?”  It’s the end of the year and we’re behind quota but what the heck, most everyone else were going away, anyway.  Insanity must be catching.  So I agreed… we shouldst.

Alas, the flight home did not end with me going home directly to my toasty nooks in the Tobacco House of lupang tinubuan, the better to take care of leftover work.  Going home went about several days later, and after those several days we still needed to check in between for stuff and more stuff.  Manila’s not the best option but there we were.  It’s noisy, it’s loaded with annoying strangers who may mug you, but it’s been like a second home since I was three years old.  And until I leave for Poor, Poor Village again, I am happy.  In my own way.  Really. 

Work cleaved to us for the first for days — there were these assessments, and e-mail, and visa, and catalog, and style guide, and durnit, can’t I just leave these and not worry about getting sacked in January.  There went the teeniest chance to see the Goblet Of Fire film in which they removed Winky, Dobby, and Rita Skeeter in a jar.

That Metro Manila Film Festival is a sneaky thing.  You know what happened to ensure I do not ignore it?  They have Mulawin the Movie.  It’s a sequel thingie where Aguiluz and Alwina somehow get separated again.  Now we see a scene with Alwina waking up in… Lireo!  Why, that’s semi-wimpy Amihan!  And Pirena is still EBIL!  GAWD!  Now I have to think about moving with the throng just because my campy favorites have parts in that movie. 

Because of all the work since the episode where Danaya turned into a rat, I missed the rest of Encantadia.  But I am satisfied with the ending helpfully narrated by Dozer_021 in which Pirena returns to take her place with her sisters after getting Imaw’s staff (dirty!) to see the truth behind all the, er… paglilinlangs.  The best part was all those annoying Starstruck characters DIED!  Including Lira!  Mua-ha-ha!  And now Danaya gets to become queen and even Pirena agrees.  So there.

Not to disappoint me for ending may favorite best-dressed objects of snark, we’re now presented with a prequel-sequel called Etheria.  The writers are now mining the He-Man/She-ra compendium.  Etheria revolves around Cassiopeia’s prediction when she was a teen that when the last sanggre is born, a previously defeated, warlike race called Etherians will come back to defeat the peaceful fairies (who propagated the age of Encantadia).  Which is a hoot, because Lira died, she didn’t have a kid at all.  But Cassiopeia must’ve heard about Dolly and took a hair from Lira to clone the last sanggre.  Isn’t that like, cheating, just because you foretold the key was the last sanggre and she died?  And the actor who played the younger Cassiopeia speaks straight Tagalog.  Beats me how she grew up to have Cindy Kurleto’s accent.  Wha-… Cassiopeia is the half sister of Queen Dawn!  And Queen Dawn was half-Etherian!  Queen Dawn’s name is Mine-a!  But Cassiopeia is the rightful Queen!  The first!  And Mine-a will be the Second!  Okay, that makes Amihan just the third and Danaya the fourth.  Empire’s kinda young, and its future might be handed over to a clone from Lira’s hair?  Which is played by that pretty Starstruck kid who plays creepy characters on movies and TV shows.  And there’s a Sex Bomb dancer modeled after the legend of Atlanta!  Just my luck… costumes still look great.  How the heck can I subaybay this series, hum?

My family and DSTS’s mom are fans of Jewel In The Palace.  It’s a TV Koreanovela that was popular in most Asia based on a historical character who was revered as a female physician.  But she started off as a great royal cook.  I watched it and it is interesting… kind of like a cross between MacGyver, Eat Drink Man Woman, Knots Landing, and a chapter of world history.

Speaking of food, I already had relleno, ice cream cake, bibingka, and sisig.  Here’s to getting some more.

Also attended a couple of family gatherings and a wedding of two friends who’ve been together since college graduation.  The traffic was horrible (we didn’t make the ceremony after spending a couple of hours on just two main intersecting avenues), but Bai and Yayis, you guys looked great.  Tata, Em, and Dony… where were you guys? 

Dynamic Noyce introduces a new guy who seems nice.  Hoping for the best, girl, I think he’s okay.  Intrepid Cath’s just as frustrated as I am on the guy-being-dependent-on-the-girl-for-directions-when-they’re-together-and-driving thing.  I hope to try and squeeze in more get togethers with friends if I can, I really miss talking with y’all while I’m stuck over there.  Believe me… only you guys understand that my semi-autism is not such a bad thing.  Sorry, you get no prize.  ‘Cause we’re tight.  Aight?  Getting into the spirit of the holidays, I hope we’re still rocking even when Friendster becomes holographic. 

DSTS is The Punisher on his birthday.  I’m just saying, it’s fine to help other people, but don’t push it, man.  As of today, cruising is off-limits (watched some CSI lately?).

Finally rewrote the blog entry, I Did, which disappeared about two months ago for who knows why.  Not the same as the original, but there you go.  Some Friendster-endorsed blog writers talk of the same thing happening in their blogs.  Anybody osmosising and fixing this yet or do we resort to propagating bulletin chain letters in faux Latin, just lemme know.

I guess in spite of everything I do NOT welcome to be with me on this vacation but do tolerate out of what goodness that’s left in my heart… it’s really great to be home in December.