The realization of the year just hit me. Our parents are not as neurotic, psychotic, paranoid or unreasonable as we think. They'd been telling the truth all along but we'll never really get it until we're about their age. By that time, we'll look back and realize we acted like medieval thinkers hell-bent on burning our parents at the stake.
Now I look with horror at my own future burning. She is only four and already she scowls at what she perceives to be my dictatorial reign.
If my mom were half the antagonist I'd imagined her to be, I suppose she'd be cackling right now. In between her sounds of mirth she'd probably say, "I told you so."
There are some things that grow on me and that I cherish almost fondly like stretch marks and sunny days. Then there are things I just can’t stand like hemorrhoids and carbon monoxide.
For five years, I have had the enduring desire to buy or rent a place of my own for my family. That would mean my husband, kids and I would have to leave my in-laws. I have been called selfish, thoughtless and proud not by my in-laws but by an indirect, faceless voice.
Is it selfish to want to have some measure of self determination? Am I proud for wanting to be able to chart my own course, raise my kids my way and exist as an independent being?
My parents raised me to be extremely independent and they had a feeling I wouldn’t survive living in someone else’s kingdom. I never really understood what they were saying. It seems I had to shower under truckloads of poop to get the point. Now I hear them clearer over the noise of falling shit.
I wonder if any other full blooded Filipinos get me.
The King of Pop Michael Jackson and 70s sex symbol Farrah Fawcett were reported dead, June 25, 2009.
Jackson was found unconscious and was no longer breathing. The official cause of his death was cardiac arrest. He is survived by his three children, Prince Michael I, Paris Michael and Prince Michael II.
Fawcett succumbed to anal cancer after three years of fighting her illness. She is survived by her partner Ryan O’Neal and son Redmond O’Neal.
May they rest in peace.
I crave for root beer. I have to wait six more months though before I can have my first taste of it in years. No, I did not move to Antarctica nor do I live in an underdeveloped country, although our congressmen seem bent on proving that we are incapable idiots living in one.
We have root beer here but restaurants and fast food chains don’t seem to serve them anymore. Canned root beer is available in some stores but the remaining months of my pregnancy and the months after that must be devoted to keeping my sugar levels low to ensure that my child doesn’t suffer from developmental difficulties.
I can barely keep my discipline. I remember when I was growing up in Baguio. There were self-service stores that allowed us to mix all the soft drink brands in our cups. When it came to root beer though, I always drank it solo. It was like a sacred drink of sorts and I was its priestess.
What made me suddenly remember root beer?
I read somewhere on the net (or did someone tell me the story) that he (the storyteller) was barred from entering an establishment because he was carrying a can of root beer. The establishment pointed out that he could not enter because the can had the word “beer” on it. Well, I thought only congressmen were semantically challenged.
If root beer is an alcoholic drink, I must have become an alcoholic at the tender age of 8. Apparently though, I seem to be undergoing a withdrawal period of sorts. My symptoms include irritability, insanity and impatience over Con-Ass.
I can only drool at that fridge in Watson’s.
*Photo from Free Stock Photos
I was still in the process of having indigestion over the finer technical differences between plasma and LCD when I was told to choose digital over cable. Apparently non cave dwellers now prefer digital broadcasting because they get more reliable programming signals from satellites compared to land based cables. Modern service providers will require clients to keep nothing more than an unobtrusive 18 inch dish. That’s smaller than my favorite 20 inch pizza.
I think a local provider for digital satellite TV is Dream TV. Compared to what the folks in the U.S. enjoy though, our local version seems laughable. One provider in the U.S. is Direct TV. They have six packages offering anywhere between 45 channels to more than 265 channels. Subscription rates can be a bit costly though ranging from about $30 to about $55 a month. Direct TV Service though is apparently still cheaper than U.S. cable subscription. You can find out for yourself since Direct TV offers a quote service based on client preferences.
The Direct TV System seems to be available in the Caribbean and some Latin countries. I wonder if they’ll ever make it here where I and my fellow cave dwellers dwell. I’d love to sprout some roots as a couch potato for even just a day with 200 channels at the tips of my fingers.
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