Where You Lead, I Will Follow…

I can’t remember when I started watching The Gilmore Girls back in the Philippines. It never became as popular as Sex in the City or Desperate Housewives but somehow, I’ve always been drawn to the program’s simple premise of how the relationship of a young mother and her daughter is allowed to grow stronger with all the triumphs and trials they encounter — as mum-and-daughter and as individuals. All the other characters also contribute to leave me personally interested in each episode. Unfornately, I can’t remember why I wasn’t able to watch it religiously back then. Probably because of its schedule or maybe the channel that aired it didn’t have a good feed or I was busy with other stuff.  The good thing is, now that I am in the UK and doing nothing but looking after my little Zara, I am able to watch it daily. Yes. If I miss the 11.50 airing, there’s a repeat at 12.50, 3.30 and 4.30 so I can’t really miss it unless I’m out of the country. I wouldn’t say the show appeals to me so much because of my own relationship with my mother. Nope! Mama and me are nothing like Lorelie and Rory. But I’d like to say I wish we were. But since my mother is not the Lorelie type, I just can’t expect us to be anything like the Gilmore Girls even in the near future.

However, not that I am obsessing to recreate this tv mum-and-daugther team with my own child, I think there’s more future that Zara and me can have something similar to what Lorelie and Rory have. Even before Z was born, and even before I got married, I’ve always wanted to be good friends with my future kids. I knew I wasn’t going to be an old-school parent, too bookishly-strict and respect-me-coz-I’m-your-mother type. It just doesn’t work if you want to rear sound, self-confident and independent human beings. I’ve always believed that to be a good parent, one must acknowledge and respect his/her kids’ individuality, that they have their own interests and ideas, and not force on them one’s beliefs and frustrations. As a parent, of course, the major responsibility of guiding them through their lives is imperative. And by this I mean letting them experience everything so they won’t grow up ignorant of the world, but not failing to show and explain to them why things are as they are and which are the right choices to make and why.

That is my personal guide as a mum to Zara and my other future kids, God-willing. I pray that I with her Dad will be able to let her explore her possibilities and discover what will make her happy as an individual. I pray that we will be firm enough to teach her that hardwork is the key to reaching your dreams, but not too firm to make her stop dreaming. I also pray that we can teach her compassion and that she will always consider others in all her actions. And of course, I hope we can also become friends to her, not just parents, as a way of teaching her trust and loyalty.

Funny thing now with Z is whenever the theme of The Gilmore Girls is played on telly, or when I sing it, she instantly turns her head to listen then smiles or giggles. Sometimes, she hums like she wants to sing along. The theme “Where You Lead” sung by Carole King has probably become one of the few songs that can calm her down when she’s not feeling so good or when she’s morky or just wants attention and starts crying. She even prefers this tune over “Part of Your World” or “Rainbow Connection”.

I am no fortune teller but I know something good is in store for me and my little one. I am just so excited to be with her as she journeys through her life which I hope she’d share with me and her Dad. So far, we’re the best of buds. We like watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse together, sing and dance to the Hotdog Song, watch Handy Manny and his tools help the friendly neighbourhood, play with her Cookie Jar and shape-sorting rocket and her other toys. We also enjoy din-din times and bath time so much. And of course, she can’t go to sleep without nestling in Mum’s arms. I just wish we’ll be like this forever, enjoying whatever we can share with each other as friends and especially as mother and daughter. As for Lorelie and Rory, I hope Z also gets to watch the series and enjoy it as much as I do. But if not, perhaps we can just weave our own tale in our own Stars Hollow here in Shipley. At least we don’t have characters like Emily and Richard Gilmore in our lives to pester us. With her Dad a.k.a. Mr. Wonderful, I’m sure we’ll have a n equally interesting story to tell.

-28 November 2008

Blogger in Limbo

So where do I start? Everything feels so unfamiliar. Since having Zara, free time has become a  foreign concept. Instead of usually finding refuge in pen and paper (or my laptop), my limited “me time” has been allotted to immediate needs like sleep and powernaps.

Thing is, I am not complaining. I love every minute with my little one. Each day awaits a surprise from her, a new milestone, a new First . Althought I grew up with nannies and childminders, I have vowed never to hand over to someone else the chance to see my child discover herself and the world. It’s more challenging than being publicly ridiculed by Simon Cowell or Craig Revel Horwood. But there’s no better experience. There’s no better job in the world.

I simply miss having time to write. I’ve lost track with my poetry, my music, my essays. And the last few times I had the chance to write about something, it was just painful to stare at a blank white page not knowing what to type, what to say. I’m hoping it’s just because I’ve been out of sleep mostly in the last couple of months. Being physically and emotionally exhausted have also barred my way to Neverland. But I’m back. I have at least listed what I’d like to write about. I’m just hoping I won’t get into blogging limbo again.

With the very limited time I will be having for writing again, I will strive to account for whatever jolts my imagination and currently short-term memory. I have to. It will not only break the nauseating routine I am in now. More importantly, it will take me back to something that adds to my personal contentment.

Not that I’ve lost my rainbow. I just want it in HD and keep it that way. Wish me luck!

Some Pinoys

I have been so excited about the Leeds Barrio Fiesta last Sunday since it would be the first time to meet some of my nicest friends from Multiply, plus it’s nice to be with other Filipinos in a foreign land too. For days we’ve been exchanging messages at our pages about where, what time and who are surely going. The rain didn’t even stop us from meeting up. And though we didn’t really spend most of our time at the Fiesta, we surely had loads of fun just to finally see each other (especially when Chrissy joined us at Whiterose Center).

Despite painting a wide grin on my face, that day also shoves my eyebrows to go rocket high. Why? Well, let’s just say it was my first-hand experience of this Filipino tale about some of our kababayans who seem to be too arrogant to even return a smile to a fellow pinoy. I’ve heard countless accounts of this story from friends and family in the US. Is it really crab mentality? What’s annoyingly pathetic was.. we all went to this supposedly “Pinoy Barrio Fiesta” for Filipinos in the UK, a get-together for us! Yet some pinoys just coudn’t care to smile back, at least for the sake of the “festivity”.

My family in the States has had a similar experience. A LOT of our kababayans there also transform into autistic horses with blinkers when you try to acknowledge them. Mas ok pa daw ibang mexicano kasi walang ere (Some Mexicans are better because they’re very down-to-earth). What is it with getting to a first world country that makes some Pinoys think they’ve become a higher being? What is it with getting out the Philippines that makes a Pinoy feel he’s become better than everyone else? Are we that bad in our own country?

I am not referring to each and every Filipino gone abroad because Multiply is proof that some of us still have our brains and feet on earth. I just feel sorry for our country because of these utok-kumang lot. How different are we from countries in Africa? A lot of them can be the richest lands in the world but because the people are still so tribal and uncivilised, they end up killing each other for power.

I’m not giving up though. I will still try to smile at somebody who looks like a kababayan if I meet them on the street here in the UK or elsewhere. If they smile back, then that would be a nice day for both of us. If they treat me like a gust of wind, sana kabagin sila ng sangkatutak na hangin (I hope they get bloated with so much wind) so they can fart their way out to space!

So I guess I should expect a similar experience in future Barrio Fiestas. Better not to expect too much kindness from everyone. But next time, I’ll make sure to queue for the barbeque and ensaymada so that if some Pinoy will turn a nonchalant face again, I’ll have a skewer to poke them in the eye or a big flat bread to butter their gobs…. That’s sure to get a response from them. It won’t be a smile though!

 

A Strange Day

4 July 2008. Today was a strange day. I remember having good sleep last night but this morning, I just felt weirdly tired. Alan had to leave early since he was working, so that left me and Zara by ourselves again to survive the day… not that we hadn’t had a similar day before. But today was just strange. I felt that challenging things will happen despite the mediocrity of the day.

First. Like I mentioned, I felt inexplicably tired. No matter what food or drink or show on telly I tried, I felt heavy. Not to mention that my tummy has been annoyingly acidic the last couple of days. I hate feeling this way because it just makes me want to doze off and be dead to the world.

Second. My little angel was being a bugger today. Yes, she has discovered her voice lately and has enjoyed listening to herself by squeaking like a dolphin a lot. But today, her squeaking was just annoying. She was more like shouting all the time, angry and bothered at something. And not just that, she wanted more attention today — demanded to be picked up while she watched Federer beat Safin without a sweat dropped in three straight sets. Even when she watched Madeline and her French friends, she seemed angry at them. Weird!

Third. As I am easily frustrated with not getting stuff done (and done right), a couple of things just seemed to rally against me and decided to annoy me all together. One. I’ve been wanting to write something here in my blog for days now but I just couldn’t find free time to do so. I’ve been missing writing reviews or just about anything that comes to mind. What to do? Being a Mum in a country that isn’t really used to having (cheap) nannies can really take up all your time. Like what Alan say a lot nowadays, “your time isn’t yours now.” I’m not bothered really because I love being with my Zara. She’s the most important person in the world to me now, besides her Dad. But I couldn’t muster why I just had a strong need to write something today. Then… Two. Although I managed to prepare food for dinner earlier, I still burnt the potatoes! Argh! It made me feel so useless! And Z’s angry squeaking just didn’t help at all. Everything just seemed to suck the life out of me today.

When Alan got home from work at seven, the air in the house finally let me breathe. We had a lovely dinner — lambchops, veges and boiled potatoes (they actually tasted alright). Then Alan went upstairs to check his email and I was left alone with Zara again. And she started gawking again. So I picked her up and she actually went quiet.

Then the strangest of all the strange incidents of today happened. I was holding Z that she was seated on my lap facing me. We were both quiet and just smiling at each other. All of a sudden, while my baby was looking intently at my face, probably appreciating her Mum’s gaze… I started crying. Friggin’ hormones! My period must be coming hence the emotional outburst! But then I realised that I started crying because looking at my child’s innocent face, it just dawned on me today, just today, how I love her so much.

Everyday I say to her “I love you! Mummy loves you so much!” But only today it sunk in me, like piercing through my bones. Only today I actually realised that I am really a mother now and that I have this beautiful child as my own. So I raised my Zara to hold her closer and whispered to her “I love you… Mummy loves you so much…” but this time it felt different because I felt every word.

Then the last strange thing happened. After that emotional moment with my baby, I held her to sit facing me again. We looked at each other once more but this time, while Z was looking at my face with my eyes red and puffy from crying, she started crying herself. I don’t think it was because “things finally sunk in her” too. I think she got a bit scared that Mummy kinda looked different with red puffy eyes. She hasn’t read Little Red Riding Hood yet, has she? Made me laugh. Just said to myself that my baby really loves her Mummy too because she doesn’t want to see me crying. Sheesh!

A strange day it has been. And as I’m about to end this article, you would have realised that everything has ended strangely as well. The potatoes tasted right. My baby’s already sweetly and quietly deep asleep (she’s actually a bit snoring). And I was able to write about something! And I actually feel energised now. But it’s time for bed. So I end this strange day remembering how life can be annoyingly funny and eagerly wonder what tomorrow will be like. So… `till the sun wakes again! Good night!

***

5 July 2008. I guess I failed to write that yesterday was strange but unique because it was the first time that motherhood actually became a “personal experience”. huh? come again? what I mean is since i gave birth, everything just fell into my lap… blag! just like that! and i never really had “real time” to appreciate the experience because there was virtually no time to be emotive about it. every second just involved nappy-changing, breastfeeding, putting Z to sleep, bathing her… all about taking care of her (plus taking care of Alan too if I had the chance). Most of the time I just end up really exhausted and I just want to sleep. No “real time” to see things free of any distractions. It happened in just a few seconds but the experience was more than spiritual. That’s why it was weird but unique, and special, and I couldn’t consider it as a “one of those days” moment because it was definitely more than that.

The Wait (gtpop_poetry.10Dec07)

Today I sat hoping to create
an ode worthy of your being
for many a fortnight have passed barren
of homage to equal your grace
only in prose uncomposed prayer
when my heart speaks in utmost silence
that hardly contains my gratitude
to Heaven, I submit in meekness.

Today I welcomed the calming quiet
to hear your gentlest hush
that I might write your unborn message
to us longing your soft first touch
perhaps there’ll be more dawns to greet
wordless passings, titters of tidings
before our hands do finally meet
and endless tales at bedtime take shape.

Tomorrow awaits a promise to make
an ode for you my purest gift
that words might cap all goodness and grace
that Heaven and we to you bequeath
so wake and scribble your softest touch
or with your sweet slumber caress our face
as we look on to when we hold
our hearts, our souls, as one grand embrace.

i’m back!

Have I been away or what? Fact is, I’ve been struggling to open this blog for a couple of days now and finally, I got lucky with one last attempt. Not that I forgot this blog existed. Perhaps I just got busy with other things — like excitingly having a new person in my family who can pop out any moment now… so that makes it around nine months of being away. But I’m back and my passion for writing has never really drifted into some unknown sphere. With just a few more days before the due date, unlocking this blog has given me more reason to be excited about what’s in store for tomorrow. I will surely have more stuff to write about and they won’t all be related to my upcoming new role — Mum. Life is such a short word for all the exciting things we can all talk about. So I’m back! I can’t wait to do blah-blah’s again and I hope I can still interest you with the various whatevers that cross my consciousness. Till the next entry. Cheers!

Rubbish but Alarming

I was just at my friendster group, checking as usual for interesting threads. Then there it was, a couple of supposedly groupies seemed like they’re gonna have a row, if they don’t soon realise that they’re starting another one of those senseless religious debates. The first one posted an invite to a convention where the pastor of the religious sect to which he obviously attended was going to be answering queries about the Bible. Another one — the reactor, familiar for his posts which he always says as his own personal opinions that which I personally think he should keep to himself – seemed a bit like he wanted to be a pastor himself, telling off the inviter to be careful of his claims, and that his own god is the best and the only one. Then the inviter responded with obviously his own backed-up claims.

Religious debates like this isn’t that rare nowadays. But it’s just so sickening. Each religion claiming that theirs is the best one on earth, even reaching a point when they have to criticise other religious groups point-blank. I then start to ask myself if there was ever a time that religion ever stuck to its purpose of simply providing a guide to people on how to live life to the fullest, in peace. Or was religion really meant to divide people?

Personally, my faith path has been a roller-coaster ride. I was born a Catholic. I have turned my back on it, tried a couple others, even tried not having any for some time. But I have eventually chosen to go back to the faith I grew up with. But this time, with learnings and a much embraced responsibility over that freedom which all of us have been born with — these, I believe each person should open their lives to, before they start living it as puppets of modern-day preachers.

I wanted so much to be the third person in that almost-debate thread, somehow trying to be the moderator who’ll shake them off their rubbish. I already finished my speech when I decided not to post it. I started to ask myself if I had the right to “scold” them. I thought that not all people think like I do. I might even offend them if I rubbed in the fact that they shouldn’t even be insisting that each of their faiths is better than the other. I thought it pathetic that although they’re actually pushing up the same God, they’re arguing about who’s doing it better.

Same goes for all other religions I guess. Most, if not all, have this need to tell the world that theirs is the best prophet, god and religion. I guess religious wars are born out of this conceit and ignorance. When I finally had the answers to at least most of my faith questions, I wanted so much to tell the world to share the bliss that came with them. But something told me to let others have this experience in their own time. Nonetheless, I will try to say the following words without spilling it all up for others… at least, with a teaser as I would call it.

There is no religion better than another. There is no best religion. I believe what matters is how such religion allows each one of us to be better persons, and how we allow the teachings of our faith to make us live our lives in peace, with others. Sometimes I wish that there were no religious groups at all, if people will have to fight each other about it. I guess a mindful consciousness and responsibility towards each other is most important. But in anything, guidelines and principles help organise things. I just wished that these guidelines are used correctly and in full respect of others, so that no matter how many sects of religion there is out there, all can live in harmony.

Dream

Hush precious dream you are… Only within reach or not… Hazel irises of blue skies… Rosy laughter like an angel’s sigh… Plumlike kisses to my delight… All so vivid in a misty eye

Hush little dream you are… Only within reach or not… A gliding swan to a lark’s song… Or mermaids’ humming on a summer morn… With hands that catch the sunrise born… All so warm to a numbing armHush sole dream you are… Must be within reach, or not… In all hearts must you be… Or kept secret in a willow tree… Longing to be awakened, set free… All so real – surreal? …in my sleep.-gtpop.160707

doherty! doherty! how you’ve deceived me!

I never heard of Pete Doherty until I came to England. Each time he comes up in the papers or in a tv feature, he’s consistently a picture of a wasted young man. Perpetually involved in drugs, alcohol, excessive smoking and whatever other abuse you can name, I just couldn’t see why Kate Moss hangs out with him still. But last Friday when I watched him in Jonathan Ross’ show, I never thought I’d change my perception of him.

It was actually the first time I’ve seen him live on anything. I knew from last week that he was guesting in the show and I made sure I was able to see it. I just wanted to see if he can keep sober and sane. As the interview unfolded, I found myself amazed. Pete Doherty appeared more of a lost lonely sad child whom because of the media frenzy will always be regarded as totally f***ed. Worse was Jonathan Ross, being the comedian that he is, went on with a light (yeah) funny interview at Doherty’s expense. I never thought I’d feel sorry for this young man, sorry not in a repulsive way but more of sympathetic. Makes me wanna save him! What do you think Ms.Moss?

I have no idea what kind of bad life this young man has had but certainly it hasn’t made him a better one. I’ve believe that he is actually very talented and if you listen to his music a little bit more, you’ll find him reaching out — unconsciously screaming for help. If only Jonathan Ross felt a little guilt when he ended the interview kidding Pete, “well, see you again.. that’s if you’re still alive,”.. and this young man could only snicker and sigh (I wished he’d punched Ross instead).

Well, I have been deceived by Pete Doherty. Maybe a lot more people out there too. And he does not know it. He’s a gifted man and yet he prefers to be wasted. If there be no one else to salvage him, I just hope Kate Moss can. She can actually do more than strut and strike a pose if she realises the whole drama behind the man. Good luck and keep on living Doherty!

no poem has moved me more than this..

Love Song by Rainer Maria Rilke

How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn’t touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn’t resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin’s bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.