post-something

I read somewhere that there are three signs of aging: the first is your loss of memory; then, I ahhh, I forget the other two.

This may be true because I remember this happening awhile back (see, I'm far from aging - I still remember some things).

A few weeks after giving birth to my niece, Isabel, my sister, Miles, was all weepy and so sensitive to the little quirks in her life. The littlest thing would get her upset or set her off crying.

So one time I went over to their house for a visit, I found her slumped on the bed, head bowed, her face tear-stained. I went over and sat beside her, put my arm around her and in my I-studied-Psychology-I-know-this-kind-of-stuff voice I said, "You're going through what's called postmortem depression."

Her sniffling immediately came to a stop. She looked up and gave me what seemed to be a look of wonder and I thought to myself, "Wow! I got her to stop feeling sad. I AM good!"

But what she said brought me down to earth with a thud, "Ate naman e! Pinatay mo na ko. Postpartum depression noh....hindi postmortem. Ano yun, autoposy?"

I guess that's why friends have stopped coming to me for advice - I keep "killing" them.

Was it even my memory that I lost here? Or was it my senses? Oh well...

Ano nga pangalan mo?

What's in a name?

I’m single…BY CHOICE!

But that’s simply because I have no other choice. Given a variety of other choices, and what with all the multitude of people (even strangers) trying to marry me off, I should probably NOT be single now. As it is, I’m not only single but I’ve also remained virtually …ahhh ….“innocent”. Now this I put blame on my namesakes – Mary and Claire.

Yes, my full given name is Mary Ann Claire. And the few privileged who know this call me Claire when they want to pick a fight with me or if they want to annoy the hell out of me.

My mom and dad were not just hard core Catholics, they were super mega-to-the max hard core Catholics AND Mother Mary devotees. So when I came along, it was no surprise when they named me after the Virgin Mary and St. Ann. But why they had to name me after St. Clare would forever remain a rosary to me (you know, a rosary is full of mystery…ngyeee!).

St. Clare is known as the Foundress of the Order of the Poor Clares. She is also described as Virgin. Ahhhh. No wonder I'm...poor.

Don't get me wrong. I love and admire what my namesakes stood and lived for. It's living up to their exemplary lives that is difficult. But insofar as their "innocence" goes, I guess I've lived up to it...so far.

With these two namesakes, I should probably be called by a different name - “Virgin-ia” or “Virgie”. But, ex-cuuuuse me, I’d rather be called “Venus” (Greek goddess of love). Hey, they all start with “V”….even virgin. So maybe I can also be called "V".

So what’s in a name? A lot, I say! Call me, "Claire" if you want to pick a fight. Or call me "V"...for whatever it may stand for. Or call me by my real name, "Maan". Or call me "Manang" if you want me to unfriend you.

Chao,

"V"

inspirations ( a collection of my favorite picture quotes)

these are a few of the picture quotes (mostly from the FB page Pure Nourishment) that...

remind me of the blessings of this imperfect life

make me think

give me a smile

inspire faith

teach
bless

rekindle the spirit

give a new perspective

toddler moments

I am in constant amazement at how smart my two-year old niece, Isabel, is.

One weekend, we were watching an interactive cartoon show on Disney Junior Channel. One of the animal characters, a lady bug, was stuck in a leaf and in a state of panic as it floated rapidly downstream. The other animal characters ashore thought of blowing leaves and stems afloat to block the stream channel. As they started blowing, the cat (lead animal character) looked in on the camera and asked the kids watching (including me) to help blow the leaves and twigs along. So I told Isabel, “Come on, Isabel, let’s help blow the leaves.”

Isabel started blowing on the TV screen. She puffed once “Wheeew!” Twice, “Wheeew!”. Then stopped.

“Come on Isabel, let’s blow,” I urged, trying to show her how to blow.

“Ninang, can’t blow. Glass,” she said, tapping the TV screen to prove her point. “See? Glass. Can’t blow.”

Oo nga naman!

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Isabel turns on and shuts down her Ipad all by herself. ‘nuff said! I don’t even know where the power button is.

One time, her Ipad was left unattended beside her while she watched TV. I sneaked up behind her and “stole” her Ipad. I touched the screen and the Angry Birds game came on. As I aimed high and let go of the stretched slingshot, the wingless bird was launched in the direction of the target pigs. I had to swipe and scroll to the next screens to see if I had hit the target. I did this move several times as I played the game.

Isabel watched intently as I played. In what seemed to be frustration, she took the Ipad from me, placed her fingers in the middle of the Ipad and dragged in her fingers which “zoomed in” the screen. “Tadaaaaa!” I could see and watch and play the game in one screen without scrolling to the next. So that’s how it’s done!

Another time, Isabel and I were drawing with Doodlebuddy on her Ipad. She drew ocean waves and boats and animals and houses… and an alien cartoon character. As she finished her alien character, I excitedly took the Ipad from her in an attempt to “save” the drawing….only to realize I didn’t know how to “save” the picture. So I asked Isabel if she knew how to “save”.

Without a word, she took the Ipad, touched some screen buttons and icons and the next thing I knew, the screen displayed, “You have saved the…”

Wow!

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Isabel is every bit as funny as she is smart.

One night before going to bed, she asked her mom for milk. As her mom gave her her baby bottle, she said to her mommv, ”Thank you, Boss! “much like how her mom thanks food servers at restos.

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Miles bought new clothes hampers for their new house. As Isabel saw a new hamper brought in to their room, she excitedly ran to it.

“Whooo-hooo!” she excitedly hooted as she climbed in the hamper.

Up and down she jumped as she played while I kept close watch in case she got off balance or “something”.

And “something” did happen – she accidentally sat on the edge of the hamper, tipping it backward, bringing her along with it. I tried to hold on to the hamper to break her fall but fall she did anyway.

We looked at her with concern and waited for her to wail in pain or, at the very least, in embarrassment. A second or two after the initial shock wore off, all she said was, “So much fun! Whooo-hooo!”

Funny girl!

not yet married (Eat, Pray, Love part 2)

FINALLY! After seven months, finally! I've finished reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love”. Normally, a book this size takes me a day or two to finish. But I actually re-lived bits and pieces of my life with this book. Every page seemed to “speak” to or about me.

I particularly liked her travel to Indonesia. In her pursuit for balance, she went to Bali, Indonesia where the Balinese are masters of balance and equilibrium. The Balinese “don’t wait and see how things go. They organize how things go.”

Three important questions the Balinese would ask of you are: 1) "Where are you going?" and 2) "Where are you coming from?" - to which you MUST state a specific direction or answer to, like Makati or Trinoma or CR, and nothing like "Dyan lang” or “Oh, I'm just wandering around." This answer would tip the balance of a Balinese and cause distress.

The third most important question a Balinese would most undoubtedly ask is: "Are you married?" - to which you must say “yes” if you are married and “not yet” if you are single or separated/divorced. An unmarried state throws one off the grid of security and comfort causing them, again, distress. So, just to be polite, “even if you are eighty years old, or a lesbian, or a strident feminist, or a nun, or an eighty-year old strident feminist lesbian nun who has never been married and never intends to get married, the politest possible answer is still: ‘Not yet.’”

THIS we must have embraced with a passion from our Balinese brothers and sisters. I most certainly have been a “victim” of such passionate pursuit of balance.

Family and friends have been at it for the last 10 years (if that’s not passion, I don’t know what is). More actually if you think about it. I've been paired off and set up with all kinds of men - white, black, brown, young, old, shy, loud, sporty, sissy, manly, boring, interesting, cute, smart, thin, big, short, tall...name it.

Everyone (most especially my Mom) have just about tried every single tactic to marry me off. And if romance didn't bloom to warrant a marriage proposal, why not try another route to marriage, they probably thought. So...

One time, my life mentor/friend, Liza D., called me aside and, in excited tones, said, "My sister knows this man in the U.S. He's looking for someone to marry.” She paused for effect, looked at me with a hint of both mischief and hesitation and waited for some reaction.

I kept still, just looking at her and thinking to myself, “Go on, I’m listening. This should be interesting.”

“But…it’s a marriage for convenience…for Green Card” she made clear (she knew my mom would have looooved for me to live in the US, married of course).

I still kept quiet, wondering if a Green Card really IS green.

She continued: “A small fee would be given after the wedding. And the full amount after the Green Card is issued.”

I continued to just listen and stare, allowing her to finish.

“You’d have to live together, of course. BUT…” she said in a reassuring tone, “But, there’d be no hanky panky, I tell you.”

This time I reacted, appropriately so: “HUWAAT? NO HANKY PANKY? NOOO HANKY PANKY? MAGBABAYAD NA NGA AKO NG MALAKI, NO HANKY PANKY PA?’ DI NA LANG NOH!!!”

So…there goes another failed attempt to put equilibrium in my so-called unbalanced life (and here I thought it was only my diet and state of mind that were unbalanced).

Care for another attempt, anyone?

singing voice

This is one of my favorite friendship picture quotes. And you might go,”Friendship? Huh?” Well, this is soooo me and reminds me of the friends who tolerate what I call (and others find questionable) singing.

My life mentor, who has become a friend, aptly adds this line to the picture: ““…a friend is someone who finds that your voice IS a problem…but is still glad you’re singing as it means you’re happy doing so.” ” Nice huh?

I so love the friendship picture quote because it also reminded me of my very own critic and fan – my mom.

Even when I was a child who sang often off the charts, she'd just let me sing as loudly and as heartily as I could even if it made the whole neighborhood cringe as if in pain…because it made me happy. But one time, when she just couldn’t stand it anymore (stand the embarrassment, that is), she took me to a voice teacher. As I vocalized for the teacher, she looked intently at me and said: "Mag piano ka na lang!?!"

When she was already sick and bedridden we’d take turns caring for her. As a break from our "caregiving" activities, we (the caregivers) would sing videoke. My sister told me that one time, I was singing "The Prayer" (I think) while my sister sat with my mom in her room. My mom, with a smile on her face said to my sister, "Ang lamig talaga ng boses ng ate mo. Pakinggan mo, ang ganda." And then I sang a line off-key and, with a look of resignation, she said, "Haay...lumabas na ang natural."

She was so funny (and unbelievably blunt). When I lost her, I didn't just lose a mom or a fan or a critic, I lost my dearest and bestest friend.

(Who’d tolerate my singing now?)

we reap what we sow

We were on the second night of the three-day seminar-recollection. Most of the time I was at the back, orchestrating the various needs for the seminar. I was exhausted. Drained. And, at times, frustrated. I kept wondering if I was doing the right thing...if I was doing enough...or if I had taken on more than I could handle...or if any of these was making a difference at all.

But...

There was this woman. She was one of the participants I had met a couple of weeks earlier during our recruitment program. I had read her profile and what I learned tugged at my heart. She was a soldier...a young widowed soldier with a 2-year old son. And with a frail old mother to take care of. But in spite of her circumstances, I never saw her without a smile in her eyes.

When I looked in on the session hall that weary night, the team was teaching the participants a fun song-and-dance routine before a short break. I spotted the woman soldier doing the song-and-dance while looking around as if in search of something or someone. I came over to see if she needed help. When she saw me, she gave me a big smile and said, "I was looking for you earlier. We just did the "Affirmation" activity and we went over to people who have touched us and blessed us. I was looking for you because I wanted to give you a hug and tell you that you have been a blessing to me."

I was rendered speechless (now, THAT is something). I just looked at her for a second or two, opened my arms and welcomed her tight hug.

"Thank you!" we both said.

I have no idea how I had become a blessing to this stranger. Maybe I had given her an encouraging smile when she needed it most. Maybe I had listened to her for the tiniest of a moment when nobody would. I don't know.

I guess it is true: "The smallest good deed is better than the grandest of intentions." The smallest good deed - the merest of a touch, the faintest of a smile, the littlest gesture of kindness, a word of appreciation - may be a world of a difference to someone, even to a complete stranger.

I don't know how I had become a blessing to her but God does. What she did, what she said, her show of gratitude and appreciation was my gift. My blessing. My answer...that I was doing something right, that I was making a difference.

We indeed reap what we sow...but in so many instances like this one, we reap what HE saw.