Pick A School

One of the more serious things DSTS and I recently discussed was choosing schools for the kids.  Yes, it’s probably counting chickens and all but that’s what it’s like being married to someone like DSTS!  On the other hand, this can balance me out when I can’t get past convolutions.

The parents prefer we continue the tradition of Chinese language and math courses in addition to the standard Philippine curriculum.  I was lobbying for Chiang Kai Shek College.  I think it’s good enough, Chinese courses are comparable to, if not better than, say, Philippine Cultural, Hope, Tiong Se, UNO, Manila Patriotic, or Sakya.  Facilities are OK and improving.  We’re also CKSC alumni, we have a background on its rules and regulations, and the alumni association’s quite active with the schools’ development (and politics) and things like giving students incentives and future benefits when they do well with schoolwork (and politics).  

My mother-in-law is advocating, for one, UNO High School, because she remembers DSTS’s “better days” with the terror principal in charge, and the written exams that test your logic.  I objected, because first, the terror principal — he’s probably retired, but I’m not updated on UNO stuff so I don’t know how things are done there now — reportedly did a Big Brother, having a million cameras in the campus and monitors set up in his office, and did things like cutting people’s bangs when they refused to get a haircut.  He was also probably the reason why young students were scared of going to the bathroom; I approve of discipline, but traumatizing small kids who may develop low sphincter muscle control and urinary tract infection is just… wrong.  They also had the written exams that “fortified logic”, the one DSTS aced while many students failed.  A sample instruction: “Put a line around the correct answer.”  Majority was stumped.  I was like… m’kay, clever way of telling ‘em to encircle your answers… but when I teach my kids what a line is, I’d like the line to stay a line.  Is that OK?

My mother-in-law’s second choice is St. Jude’s Catholic School, if we could afford it; she hears Mass every Sunday and had fond memories attending Immaculate Conception of Manila for English and Filipino classes when she was younger.  She attended CKSC Chinese classes in the afternoons, but “Tiong Ching e yingbun kho tsin bue ti dit!”.  She still isn’t impressed with CKSC’s curriculum today.  According to her, DSTS and his sisters stopped becoming as academically competitive as she’d like the minute they transferred from UNO to CKSC.  However, I know they maintained good grades throughout their CKSC years, in fact DSTS and Jay, his younger sister, belonged to the so-called “nerd section” of the class.  DSTS said Mama’s standards may be subject to perspective.  :)

DSTS thinks UNO doesn’t have much weight but is considering St. Jude’s.  He laid out his case: St. Jude’s standings on English and Chinese education are way better than CKSC’s.  One of the godfathers at our wedding was also a CKSC alumnus.  While acknowledging St. Jude’s standards also went down compared to when he was still attending CKSC grade school and high school, he also opted to send all four kids to St. Jude’s because of higher standards (however, no objection from his wife, who herself went to St. Jude’s).  

My mother’s classmate married late and her daughter went to St. Jude’s; she maintained an above 85% average all throughout.  She didn’t do this to compete in honors (but she was fifth in overall standing as a result); the alternative getting below 85% is to transfer schools.  Because of those standards, plus probably because of the conditioning included, more St. Jude’s students go on to study in better universities (De La Salle University, Ateneo University and the University of the Philippines; DLSU and Ateneo are Roman Catholic universities, UP’s liberal and the state U).  Godfather’s eldest is at Ateneo.  My mother’s classmate’s St. Jude kid is also at the Ateneo, many of her classmates went to Ateneo as well.  

Brief segue: La Salle was probably a French guy who contributed something to philosophy, education or studies the way Thomas Aquinas did, right?  However, I’m wondering why the Jesuit school’s called Ateneo — alumni are called Ateneans.  I really don’t know, only they make me think of Athens and Athenians, who were named after the classical Greek goddess Athena, which are nowhere near making me think of anything Catholic.  I’m welcoming enlightenment; right now it’s making sense like naming your kid Martin because you believed the Gregorian calendar dictated that your kid’s birth month coincided with the feast of one of the St. Martins, so of course you should name the kid in its honor as per acceptable Catholic tradition.  And yet etymologically, the name Martin means “dedicated to [the Roman god of war] Mars.”

DSTS wryly notes our batch only had one UP alumnus, and only about a couple or so went to Ateneo.  A very small handful studied abroad (no big-name universities, though).  A majority who were acknowledged as ‘haves’ opted for De La Salle and St. Benhilde, while the rest, including both of us (University of Santo Tomas), spread out in the U belt from UST, PUP and FEU to CEU, Mapua Tech, St. Scholastica.  Of course there’s the loyal chunk who stayed in good ol’ CKSC, which, while not so bad, relied more on connections rather than academic achievements and capabilities.  Take a look at Class of ’99; not one accountancy major passed the board.  However, all students, according to the recruitment program, were assured of jobs upon graduation.  Here I countered that while the St. Jude students are academically good that they got into the top universities, I’m also supposing the fact that their families could afford sending them to St. Jude’s for their elementary and secondary educations probably increased the chances that they could afford Ateneo and DLSU tuitions, right?

My objections to St. Jude’s are mainly because of religion, which, for me, makes the controlled environment you want to put your kid into even smaller.  Take my not being Roman Catholic out of it or what I don’t think is consistent with its own versions of things that happened and dogma; what I would like is to have my children ask me and their father questions about life, hear what we think we know about it, see their world for themselves and learn, then make up their own minds on which paths to follow.  This is what I had with my parents, who had their beliefs, and CKSC, a neutral zone without the incense burnings and hail Marys and ohm-mani-padme-ohms.  I was exposed to different things and opinions, there was no enforcement of just one thing during the impressionable years; I saw, and I followed what I thought was right for me when I was able to understand enough.

Well, spirituality doesn’t exactly hold much these times when it comes to practical domestic discussions.  I do agree with DSTS that we want the best for the kids, and we’re talking about the best available education.  And because we’re neither from well-off families nor do we have much advantages to offer, if we could afford it, we would like to shoot for the best.   Talking about alternative schools: St. Stephen’s, Grace Christian, Hope Christian, Jubilee… these would’ve been fine, if only the friends I’ve met from these schools didn’t tell me that they’ve kind of forgotten even the basics by the time they hit the universities.   Conversational stuff, compositions (English, Chinese, Filipino), general knowledge… even theology, sometimes?  Not much better than what I know.  And they thought CKSC stuff were more difficult.  So I think I’ll pass.  

In some cases of these friends from St. Stephen, Grace Christian, Hope Christian and Jubilee, it’s their parents who are Roman Catholic or Buddhist, but enrolled them in their schools for one of the reasons: convenience in location, Chinese lessons, a more affordable tuition fee.  Then the kids embraced the school’s teachings and went home to tell their parents about why it’s not good to revere graven images and paying respects to minor saints or dieties or ancestors in addition to the one true God (okay, sometimes they made a concession for the Trinity).  The parents were flummoxed how to explain things.  This is what happens when you throw in religion to something that could be uncomplicated, and it’s the flummoxing I’d like to avoid in the early stages.  

A few also admitted that the discipline in some the Christian schools were near to non-existent.  This is because those schools’ teachers usually go with subdued encouragement, gentle prodding and world peace compared to the Catholic school’s signature tough love during a child’s formative years. It’s those crazy Sunday school kids and the turn-the-other-cheek Sunday school teachers all over again! And this has confused me even then… isn’t it written somewhere in Proverbs when you spare the rod, you spoil the child? There’s a reason the Old Testament is included in the Bible. To illustrate, one pal once said St. Stephen’s High School had some students smoking inside the campus.  I asked what the principal did.  

“Sabi niya, ‘Please stop that; it’s bad for you.  Not to mention it’s against the rules.’”

Ano’ng sabi ng students?

“Wala, tiningnan lang siya.”

I imagined they blew smoke in the principal’s face and the principal merely blinked.  Maybe coughed.  I have watched too many John Hughes films.  In contrast, there’s the standard acknowledgement of exemplary discipline enforced by no-nonsense nuns, even verified by Jessica Zafra (And Tina Fey! Bitch Is The New Black skit, Weekend Update!) herself.  

While at CKSC we didn’t have the nuns, our time was under the reign of this tough lady disciplinarian who whupped the rebellious types’ butts to shape whether they liked it or not.  She had the presence; when she passed by the corridors, I swear it’s like Moses and the Red Sea.  Or that scene featuring the intro of the Axe Gang in Kung Fu Hustle.  It was something.  And unlike the human rights violator-terror principal from UNO, I don’t think she ever needed to resort to actually cutting tufts of hair to successfully compel even the smarmiest resident assholes to get the prescribed haircut!  However, she passed away years ago (rest in peace), and the heir apparent to her post I’ve heard is about as intimidating as a plush donkey.  I don’t know CKSC’s current stat on discipline.

While St. Jude’s is a possibility, I am, however, hoping to draw the line on exclusive schools — say, Xavier, or Immaculate Conception Academy if for a girl — simply for the reason that I think they restrict exposure to and interaction with peers of the opposite sex.  It happens I noted many classmates I’ve met at the university who went to exclusive schools or were restricted by their parents to spend time with the opposite sex placed more emphasis than they should on snagging then maintaining relationships at the expense of achieving their full potential at academics than those who went to coed schools.  The then-objects of their affections weren’t even all that, too.  It’s like they were deprived or something.  Then again, baka nagkataong wala lang talagang that hilig sa school stuff, pwede din.  And there were the few who opted not to have relationships after experiencing difficulties relating to culture/gender differences when they meet new people at universities and at work.  When someone of age chooses to remain single, it’s best to do so because it makes him or her more fulfilled as an individual, and not because he or she couldn’t get past the idea that potential partners have cooties or something… that adjustment should’ve been settled by puberty, but how would they practice dealing if we corral them off to just one kind at the time they’re growing up, observing others, and being supervised on adapting to the basic social rules?

It’s not like I’m pro rushing kids into relationships, but I want things balanced.  Not too much off-limits stuff, but not too much “Go for it!” either.  These are just opinions revolving around personal thoughts, okay… I’m not saying it’s not cool for you to put your kids in schools with religion, or exclusive schools.  If you happen to agree with the religion and the location and tuition fee’s fine… even better, it’s smoother sailing compared to us displaced people.  Whatever works for you; you don’t need people telling you what to do.  Lots of kids and parents we know stand by them and did well in life, actually, as I’ve mentioned.  I may be wrong, and this is just me airing out my ignorance in a copious manner as usual (humor me).

Which is why DSTS asked me to think things over; anyway it’s not an immediate decision.  He did admit that, eventually, should times get worse, we may opt for CKSC after all, which will always be more affordable than St. Jude’s.

How about the convolutions that DSTS was supposed to balance out?  Oh, nothing.  Just that sometimes I’m thinking, what, I’m letting the system beat my ideals out again, simply because they’re not practical?  Do I justify with things like what counts with spirituality is what environment one would provide at home? What about self-righteous acquaintances who’d lecture me that this is a bad testimony and faith is what counts the most, and that I’d failed big time, and that who cares that non-Catholic Christian  schools with Chinese and standard courses in this country offer comparatively sub-par education so long as it’s apparently the “right” thing to do?  

I’m also imagining I’m gonna be made to go to PTA meetings or called by the teacher who’d ask me if I can ask my kids to participate reciting the rosary more, maybe I can coach them at home.  There may be no such things, but… Aargh.  I’m gonna be invited to my kids’ confirmations or whatever standard traditional rituals and the teachers and parents will smile, turn to me and say, “Well, you know what to do!” and… Aargh.  What if the deluded proponents of democracy in the Philippines feel that the government is inept yet again and inspire another band of military poseurs to attempt another coup on a school day and St. Jude’s near the Malacanang palace and… Aaargh.  Of course I’m also gonna have to help the children memorize hail glorious Mary stuff and I’ll be clueless or hesitant and they’ll ask me why and I’m gonna need to ‘fess up and they’ll be confused why I sent them to that school in the first place when I don’t believe in supernatural Mary stuff and I’ll have to show them the Bible and how Mary was never prayed to in Jewish tradition and guess what, so was Jesus, and yes, we’re not Jewish though we believe in their God but as to why, it’s… faith, and Mary worship got into the Catholic faith because when the missionaries traveled West they wanted pagans to transition from goddess worship to the faith better, and the kids will get even more confused and disillusioned and I’ll just mess up their faith in God and… Aaargh.  Then they’ll ask me why Amah is staunchly Catholic but she goes to a Taoist-Buddhist temple as well, and is this allowed by the St. Jude nuns or the Pope, the Taoist priests and the Dalai Lama and wasn’t Buddha Indian, so how come the Dalai Lama’s been Tibetan for the last fourteen reincarnations and… Aaaargh.

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.

I Did.

Yes, I’m afraid I’ve gone and done it, wore something old, new, borrowed, and blue, had a big fear of tripping a big somersault kind of trip on the aisle and almost did but didn’t, got hitched, and now it’s over and done with.  Surprisingly, no one lost a shoe or got hit by lightning.

And now some of life’s lessons revisited, like…

Polite conversation.  It gives one… encouraging words, such as, “Why’d you pick that for your motif?” or “You must be excited” or “Can’t wait for the big day, hum?”  We smile, we nod, but I am not fooled! No matter how joyous or even colossally unbelievable to select members of the honorable families (at least some of them, anyway), there shall surely be hitches and those are hardly something to be excited about.  So yep, this will be about the days leading to October 15.  Lotsa snark material here.  Otherwise, RUN! Run from the mad monologues of a newly married geek.

We have the motif.  Motif is Old French for “motive”, and conveys theme or idea, a recurring design or sequence.  So if we’re talking about motif in its literal sense, well… DSTS and I were semiformal to casual bordering on a walk in the park or a ride on the stone carabaos.  ‘Xactly sounds like what the barong and the sundressy gown felt like.  We’d have gone with either a Mohawk, Timawan, Justice League, or maybe Appalachian motif in its stead, but supplies and funding were scarce.

Back home, though, when speaking of motif, most people tend to mean just the color and not the whole theme in general.  Rarely will someone include details such as, “Oh, butterflies!  Butterflies on my gown, on the silverware, and the candles, and 2,000 cocoons that will metamorphose and flutter about by the time we forcefeed people at the wedding banquet!”  Or, “Ooh, whee, ooh, I look just like Buddy Holly.  Oh, oh, and you’re Mary Tyler Moore.”  Whaddaya mean if I’m sure?  I’m sure.  I dunno, maybe that’s the way it is nowadays.  But the idea really sunk into me when I was there facing Lulu The Wonder Woman and he asked me what my motif was. 

“Wild color combos are so in, babe.  What’ll it be?  Fink and turquoise?  Furple and yellow?”  Orange and lemons?  Deciding to nix the previously considered motif-motifs, I said, “Copper.” 

“Coffer?  Is that, like, farang fink?”

“Hindi, like a nice, rust color.”

“Anoh?“ 

“Um.  Bronze?” 

“ANOOOHHHH?!!“ 

“Red na ma-brown na ma-orange na metallic.  Kalawang na shiny!”

There we go.  I’m feeling stupidly wiser all of the sudden, just like all brides are wont to be, so please indulge me: mes hijas, should your turns come?  Remember what elderly Aunt Jill tells you: the basic thesaurus, while helpful, will give you lots of anohs, so it’s best to bring something.  A Pantone booklet.  Or swatches of the cloths you like, which I did, in the form of an old, shiny sleeveless pajama top.  Why it was shiny, I don’t know — maybe it used to be something you wore to the clubs, but it bloated and handed down to me and I used it as a pajama top.  Or maybe it was of Mama’s wunnerfully magical retasos.  Anyway, just bring something.

So a lot of people ask why this color.  Well… I like it, to start with.  It’s metallic… very cool in photos.  It also has this warm, earthy shade that looks good on you whether you’re fair, tanned, or darker.  Gold and silver do not work the same way and, in fact, get kinda washed out in some lighting, whereas copper or bronze look great in natural outdoor light or artificial indoor lighting.  I don’t have anything against bright colors, ‘kay.  Wear those limes and incandescent oranges and pinks if you love ‘em.  I’m just saying that sticking with those colors in a society with a dominant colonial mentality must compel your maidens to really like their tans, or else swear by the power of their favorite peelers or Likas Papaya, that’s all.

I asked Lulu to suggest a lighter color for the ninangs to wear.  Why I’d want to do that, well, all the ninangs were fair complexioned, and for relatively mature women with fair-to-medium skin tones, pastels look great.  Lulu gave me a choice of old rose (pink) or puce (yuck).  So I choose old rose… I don’t exactly like pink, but sure, why not, Lulu.  I can live.  Hum.  Anyway, I just want to say my ninangs all wore pink and they looked fab, bias in favor of my taste notwithstanding.  Hee.

These boots were made for walking.  “Chin up and smile,” hissed the manong of the church through smiling, unmoving teeth, as I attempted my first wobbly step while fearing I might step on the hem.  For the manong was trained to maneuver everyone in the tradition of Patton, and was being tasked to do the exciting job of coordinating the step-nos after no rehearsal was allowed, since a place of solemn worship rightfully demands solemnity, and picture coordinators shouting, “Wan, tu, tree smile!  Glide!  And, glide!…  sinabi nang glide, ang kulet…” when other people are naturally in serious spiritual mode, concentrating on their problems and sins and penitence and stuff.  Not in harmony, right?  But gawd, the spontaniety.  Nearly killed us.

“Dahan da-HAN!”  Manong pulls me from the pensive tangents back to the pre-mating ritual.  “Ayan,” he approves after a few more steps, still with that weird smile.  Gaad.  He’s destined for a life bereft of dating fabulous submariners such as myself, that’s for sure.  Sigh, here we go. Chin up, check.  Smile.  Ste-ep, ste-epp…  whoops.  There goes the hem.

I reach the middle part of the aisle where Mama and Papa were waiting for me so we could proceed together, as was in Manong’s script.  After holding to each parent, I checked if the smile was still on (it was) and we resumed walking, with chin up, while checking the smiles.  Papa was nervous, too… I mean, there were a few people but for non-showbiz people like us, we’re like, all those people lookin’ at us?  Scary.  So he kinda veered slightly away from the red carpet leading to the altar, and I was like, “Papa, I think the heels?  Have left the carpet.  Let’s go back.”  And yay, we made the walk ALIVE.  The feeling through it all was calm, then chaos, then calm again.  Then a sort of dread on what might happen next. 

It’s the harbinger of what married life is.  And the video must suck.

Preciousssessss.  The horrid Monsy, who grilled DSTS and me on cathecism and graded us unfairly even if we answered all questions correctly just because neither of us nor our parents bothered having going through confirmation whatever stuff, officiated the ceremony.  Sorry, DSTS, but I couldn’t let this go.  The other couples who were poor excuses of confirmed people couldn’t even get one answer right… except for that man who was a former seminarian.  What’s the point of passing these people through this test when it’s clear they got zero?  I even know the freaking catechism stuff — not in the Bible — better than they do, for Pete’s sake, and I’m not even Catholic.  Then that Monsy gives us crap for knowing what the church is supposed to be testing couples for, and give the dumdums thumbs up?  That’s what priority is for you, you, prissy, habit-wearing fart.  No wonder Jesus said it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for people to reach the kingdom of heaven. It has nothing to do with being rich.  It’s because they take the trouble to get confirmed, then fall asleep on Sundays.

He instructs DSTS to put the wedding band on my right ring finger.  DSTS was confused.  “Di ba left?”

“Right, sabi!” Monsy insisted.  Dude, we didn’t piss him off the last time, did we?

And just saying that Monsy is one badly-trained Babylonian mystery practitioner.  The tradition of the ring dates back to ancient times when people revered the Circle as the cradle of life, the never-ending cycle, Semiramis’s moon egg.  Whoever wears the ring has the power bound to the body.  Now it also happens that during those times, it was believed the end of the vein leading to the heart was found on the left ring finger — the heart was supposed to be located on the left side of the body, probably because you could hear the blood pumping better on that side.  So if you had the ring worn on the left ring finger, the one who puts it on controls the wearer’s heart.  So it really was the left, Monsy.  LEFT!  Man, what are they teaching clueless guys in seminary these days!

Oh, right, we forgot the doves.

It takes 17 muscles to smile.  But do that for a whole day and in lipstick, with my teeth!  Felt like crap and I looked like the Joker.  After the ceremony you’d think we would have the sense to rest or freshen ourselves up for the banquet, but no.  We had to be dragged helter-skelter across Lito Atienza’s domain to oblige the poor shutterbugs’ quota of under a thousand pics in pixels.  We posed like Fred and Cyd with toes together, arms held straight while holding hands, but we looked like cigarette stubs.  And now we have sore feet (and mine hurt more — at least DSTS wore socks!).

Seriously, though, Lulu did a great job with the dress.  It was probably not the most perfect gown he designed, but it was just right for me — because I am the Ever Wobbly!  It was comfortable enough for most places we were shanghai-ed to, and hem and length just right to minimize chances of collision with incoming bipedes.  So Lulu may be the second most requested sister, but dudes, Lulu rules!  He gets my shameless plugs!  Buy his dresses!  And while the Sisters are mostly cool, have a caveat that Lachesis might send you a fugly red mannequin for photo stuff, ’cause she sucks!  Huzzah!

Always say grace before dinner (“Grace.”).  No, dear God, I really was grateful for the food.  There’s this thing when I see people I know and am comfortable with that makes me so thankful for life that I want to eat heartily and there we were.  We were famished. 

Then came the hard part.  The waiter who has been cruelly rationing our share of the good stuff put a platito of juicy, succulent crab meat in front of us, and I swear my crab claw stared at me and screamed, eat me!  EAT ME!  And I had this overpowering urge to rip off my darn gloves and grapple with the guests for one decent shell cracker so I can pound at the shell and pick on the meat until I was sure that fine specimen of crustacea did not die in vain.  I looked at DSTS with that wild look in my eyes (“Honey, for the love of crabs!”).

“Don’t even thinkaboudit,” DSTS said quite cheerfully enough.  The thing about being subjected to public spectacle is you make an effort to improve your talents in ventriloquism.  We ate little ’cause we decided it’s nicer to go around and talk to guests after preliminary dishes and to avoid public speaking things and stuff normally expected by people who normally want to be entertained — so those guys were stuck with tinking the glasses with their forks.  ‘Cause imagine shaking hands with people while smelling of crab.  Gotta love the sticky feeling, too.  You know, I’m going back to my inclination that guests really are a nuisance, after all.  And we splurge on nicer food especially because of company?  What kind of twisted society have we developed into?

Ed Borncross really blew us away with the mood stuff.  The quartet delivered music by the Gershwins, Rodgers and Hammerstein, and some contemporary favorites, and they didn’t falter even once, or if they did, it wasnt’ noticeable.  We were expecting a three-person ensemble and a vocalist who was prone to cringeworthy piyokness (we saw her perform during Ed’s invite to go-sees at prior gigs at Fernwood and San Agustin Church).  But on The Day, Ed hired a different and much better vocalist and threw in an extra violinist.  Ed gets shameless plugs, too.  Both performance and price are highly recommended, just let me know when you need snooty mood music.

By the way, for people planning to throw parties at the Fernwood gardens that are worth lots of moolah to begin with, we checked and the ‘biospheres’ are nice, but on summer days, it’s like a pressure cooker in them.  Maybe there are plans to install megabucks worth of airconditioning someday, but for now we’re saying it’s not smart to hold your parties there when summer, unless you’re fond of runny makeup and sticky barongs.  The plants can only do so much for what DSTS refers to as the nog-nog smell. 

Toast to the best of the best.  Cool Grandma, you would have partied, your teacher friends were there, hee.  DSTS was that sixth grade classmate I was telling you about then, strange how things sometimes turn out, huh.  We miss you.

To the Mamas, thank you for being the pillars that hold together our families.  We couldn’t have made it this far without you.  To the Papas, you showed us what life is, thank you for inspiring all your children to work hard.  To brothers and sisters… so that’s what you look like in formal wear!  Soldier on!  And we must continue to be relied upon to whap each other behind the head in times of necessity.  Family people, we appreciate the support. 

To Piolo and Sandara, we’re still big fans!  Thank you for helping us with that crazy day.  To Den Marsh, Yayis, and Mike, thanks for the well wishes.  To Intrepid Jane and Fearless Gival, thank you for keeping the cool whe we sicced you with the bouquet.  What can I say?  We’re wholesome… but for a while we had you going there, didn’t we?  To friends who braved the traffic and hitched rides from Mars, thank you for sharing the day with us.  We both come from small clans, and you guys being there made the day extra special. 

And to friends and family who couldn’t go… were you NUTS?!  You missed out on a chance of a lifetime.  It’s not likely I’ll ever wear drag in full splendor again!  Thank Glork. 

And these, too, shall come to pass.  Hello, Yulu.

Fusion Confusion

Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.  I’m taking up where the Lent funk left off on Good Friday.  I can’t help it, it’s the geekness in me.

When I was four, I was terrified of the Lent.  You see… back home, there were devotees who tortured themselves under the hot sun.  Lots of them.  Way serious acts of penance, and they walked by houses in long, bloody parades!  Okay, we have pain and empathy for the theme… but shouldn’t this be rated R for violence or something?  I mean, look what happened to kids like me!

Some penitents actually got nailed on crosses.  That time, I thought it was gross and disturbing… and well, I still do.  What can I say, I’m a wimp. Unless you’re weaned on Natural Born Killers, don’t you get squeamish as well, seeing blades slash across men’s and women’s backs?  And it is disturbing, when in fact, the Bible accounts of a law forbidding faithfuls to pierce or hurt any part of the body, or adorn the body with images (tattoos).  Animals were for the sacrafices, the human body was not… the logic there being the body is a gift to you from God, therefore you’re supposed to take good care of it.  For the pagans, however, that sort of thing was normal.  The question now is how come things like these find its way inot traditions supposedly Christian in origin, huh?  Huh?

Some of these practices actually have pagan things mixed in.  During the Christianization of Europe in the early centuries, many leaders figured it would be easier to replace the beliefs, as opposed to telling the people what they’ve believed for centuries were wrong.  I mean… picture a preaching scenario like that with Visigoths.  Or Vikings.  Or those Britons with fierce women warriors painted with woad.

See the way Christ’s birth was made to be commemorated in winter to replace the Winter Solstice parties.  Also, the days celebrating the cult of a Phrygian deity named Tammuz fell at the end of the year.  He’s supposed to be a guy who yearly rose from the dead, more similar to how the phoenix works.  But since Christ’s concept is the God who became human, died, and was resurrected — easy substitution.  Tammuz was also of virgin birth, so I don’t know if that fact is related to what became Europe’s Day of the Immaculate Conception, celebrated early in December (Note added on 06 October 2009: After further reading, found out Immaculate Conception refers to Catholic dogma of Mary’s supposed immaculate conception pala; if pertaining to Christ it’s called Virgin Birth in Catholicspeak. Feel free to correct if I’m wrong).

And not that I know for sure, but Jesus being born during summer, not winter, technically makes more sense if you count the info about when the tribe of Judah updated the census then, and which was the reason Joseph trekked all the way to Bethlehem despite Mary being all set to have a baby.

Also, weren’t all that sheep and shepherds supposedly camping out in the open then?  Is that doable in winter?  Then again, maybe winter isn’t that cold in ancient Jerusalem.  Hey, 6S Lemmings.  If your boss told you to go forth and eat grass in winter, would you?  I want to know.  Organized hardcopy of details, please, with labels.  Go on, this is very important, like your surprise audits.

About the celebration of the Lent… it’s accounted that Christ suffered, died, and rose again.  But it isn’t proven everything started on a Friday to end on a Sunday.  What came to be was the celebration of the last days of Christ replaced three Oriental pagan practices that became popular and evolved in ancient Europe:  Dagon/Astarte’s Fish festivities, Tammuz’s death and resurrection, and Ishtar’s day.

Let’s start with Fish on Friday.  People eat fish on Friday, but especially so on Good Friday.  And of course we know Christ taught about being “fishers of men”.  He’s done several miracles and told of parables involving fish.  Fish is a traditional food in the Bible.  Interestingly when he died and rose again, that signaled the start of what the old world order termed as the Age Of Pisces.

But before all that, the world celebrated a Mesopotamian god of vegetation and fertility by the name of Dagon.  Y’all, Babylon was where everything started.  They said that’s where the original Eden was.  And back then, Babylon became more popular than Israel.  Its religion, literature, art, and philosophy reigned supreme for a long time.  Long story.  But getting back… you know the part in the Book where Samson destroyed a temple?  That was the Philistines’ temple for Dagon.  Anyway, Dagon was half-man, half-fish.  He had a fish tail.  Why the association with fish, maybe because he’s a fertility god, and, not as obvious about it as the Greek Priapus, he was probably related to fish ’cause fish can spawn lots of eggs at a time.

He’s often associated with the goddess Astarte.  Astarte was worshipped as many goddesses, and one of them is Themis on the Greek island of Delphi (from delphos, literally meaning both “birth” and “dolphin”).  Later on, Themis was worshipped as Aphrodite Salacia.  The worhip day?  Friday.  Followers ate only fish and performed sex rituals…  TGIFs take a whole new meaning now, huh.  Actually, the word “Friday” itself is a dead giveaway… it literally means “Freya’s day”.  Freya is how Astarte became known to the the ancient Norsefolk.  Friday’s Latin rooted languages have Viernes, Vendredi, and Venerdi, taken from “dies Veneris”, which translates to Day of Venus — Venus is Aphrodite’s Roman name, and Aphrodite is the Greek development of Astarte.  And Verbal Kint is Keyser Soze.

And that’s how people really came to practice fish on Friday, now minus the group sex — except for maybe some precocious people who can afford it.

Then there’s the tradition that fish is a way of sacrafice because meat is luxury.  Back in the old days, that was so.  That’s why the rich people sacraficed cows in tabernacles while the poor people had pigeons.  Eating beef and veal was a luxury, since they were primarily for temple sacrafices… pork was a no-no — only Gentiles ate them, and so were crabs, shrimps, and squids.  Fish, in effect, since it was abundant, was the poor man’s meat.

Fast forward to the present.  Beef and pork are bad for the heart.  We have mad cow’s and foot and mouth.  The Omega-3 good fatty stuff in fish has been discovered to help reduce heart problems, and capsules are selling for as much as HK$250 a bottle at Watson’s.  Fish also has iodine that helps lessen likelihoods of thyroid problems.  There’s also caviar.  And fish is still cheap?

Onto self-flagellation, consider this entry from Penn State U’s resource pages on the Roman Calendar:

The Quando Rex Comitiavit

This day (QRCF), is for special religious observance. The exact nature of this ancient holiday is not known. The month of March belongs to the warlike Mars, the deity who personifies the protection of the state and the productivity of the community. This is the last day of the Festival of Mars. The daily spectacle of the priests of Mars doing the Dance of the Salii, leaping and dancing through the streets of Rome while carrying shields, would continue this day. The Romans called this day the Day of Blood and it would end the previous nine days of fasting. Devotees of the goddess Cybele would practice self-flagellation on this day. It was renamed Good Friday by the Christians, who prevaricated its origin and true meaning. Self-flagellation is, in fact, still practiced by some of them.

Let’s move on to Black Saturday.

Christ was born on earth to die and save people from sin.  No arguments there.  But to many, it’s a concept that’s hard to grasp.  The lazy Christian zealots of yore, though, found the perfect kindergarten method of teaching in the form of the old cult of Tammuz.  In Phrygia, people worshipped the Mother Goddess as Cybele.  Cybele  had a lover, Attis, aka Tammuz, the guy we talked about for Christmas.  Virgin birth, right?  Feast day in December.  Sometimes he’s known as Adonis, and as Adonis, he’s Aphrodite’s boy toy.

And as the story goes: Cybele and Tammuz were all lovey-dovey, but one day, near the end of the year, they had a lover’s quarrel.  Tammuz, ever the drama king, thought he’d make things better by castrating himself one Saturday.  Big surprise he bled to death.  Dumbass.  Then he rose again from the dead through divine intervention when the new year started.  Apparently, Tammuz and Cybele are into kinky stuff because they got a kick out of doing this every year.  How’s that for anniversaries.  Thus the pagans have their festival of the dead-then-resurrected deity who’s born of a virgin mother.

Lazy Zealots:  Now, do you get the Jesus Christ for Black Saturday concept?  You… replace Tam-muz… with Je-sus.  Tammuz, Jesus.  Tammuz, Jesus.

Pagans:  Uma.  Oprah.

Lazy Zealots:  Oy.

Finally, Easter.  Easter was originally a pagan celebration in Europe for Eostre, a  mother goddess.  The mother goddess is known by many names… the first is Ishtar, then Astarte, Aphrodite, and everybody else.  Pagan rituals all started in Babylon.  Its founder, the mighty Nimrod, came from the family of Ham, son of Noah, the guy of the ark fame.  Now, Ham was a perv. He crept into Noah’s room one night and stared at Noah, who was buttnekkid and totally wasted after heavy partying.  Naturally, when Noah woke up with a proper hangover and knew about what Ham did, he was like, “Ew, my son… you perv!  You are so cursed.”  And so, from Ham’s family came the pagan nations:  Babylon, Canaan, Akkad, Niniveh, and so forth.  Cush, his descendant, got it on with a woman named Semiramis, and eventually they had a kid called Nimrod, who grew up to be a mighty, mighty man.

And these people are twisted.  For example, Cush died.  So Nimrod married his mother!  Really ew.  But it was noted that the males in that family, no matter how superpower-y in exploits, were the weaker sex. ‘Cause Nimrod died. Ever the spin doctor, Semiramis claimed he became the sun god Baal.  That mad her Ishtar, the divine being borne of the moon.  Yes, the MOON.  Just look at that thing on top of her head.  She explained the moon was an egg, and that it ovulated when it’s full.  And the egg she was in fell from the sky to the sea.  And she hatched.

Man, either she must be one scary lady, or the Babylonians were high all the time that they not only fell for the story, but made it tradition.  And hence, the original celebration of Easter for fertility, in honor of the original Ishtar, and the symbols of rabbits (which mate like crazy, people.  Hefner’s logo makes sense now, huh?) and colored eggs.  And so, just saying… calling the commemorative day for Christ rising again and ascending to heaven “Easter Sunday” is a total misnomer.

You could also note the Europeans who assimilated everything in turn used the results to manipulate the people they conquered in the Americas, Asia, and Africa come the 1500s, these being the originators of the original faith.

And those are just some I’ve been mulling about on the side for about… oh, ten years now.  Kind of like a connect-the-dots/crossword puzzle spanning generations.

This is just me, but I guess the thing is, it’s still up to how you feel about these.  If you’re a traditionalist and see all these rituals aid the faith, then good for you.  Maybe you’re dependent on the Books and try to get to the core stuff.  That works for me.  If you’re not either, I suppose you have your own answers to life.  So long as you’re living fully without pushing too much, right?  Hey, 6S Lemmings!  You’re hopelessly annoying, but we know you’re just doing your job, and we wuv ya.  Muah.  Now, the cliff is thataway.

And that’s all there is to it.  Life shouldn’t be so complicated.  History already is.