Filipino VEGETARIAN Cuisine

People don't think that there's good Filipino vegetarian food. But really there is, though there continues to be a stigma that eating vegetables only is for poor people. The Philippines has wonderfully delicious vegetables. I remember having this wonderful seaweed that looked like tiny bunches of grapes that would just pop in your mouth.

So if you want to see what Filipino vegetarian food looks like, go here. The Union City Farmer's Market is right across from Toppings Too on Smith and Watkins. Eat your veggies and get taho! yum!

Greetings Everyone...

this is a personal invite to come and check out the ONLY Fiilipino Vegetarian Cuisine in the bay. We are currently selling hot plates and the Union City Farmer's Market off of Alvarado Niles exit. Take 880 S, exit Alvarado Niles, take a right, and go for
about a mile. it'll be to your right hand side. Last Saturday was a huge success and we created a buzz which is getting learger. Many families came to support, children and elders. Please come out and do the same! Come eat, chill under the trees and enjoy the market.

See you there!

Yours truly,
Jay-Ar Isagani

it's a packed weekend

I have to head to Sin City this weekend. Doing a road trip to my cousin's wedding there. But if you're in town check out the San Francisco Public Library:

*COLORED:  Black n' White, The Philippine-American War in American Popular Media, 1896-1907 -
Opening Lecture and Reception

Opening Lecture with Exhibition Curators:  Main Library, Lower Level, Koret Auditorium, 2:00 - 3:00 p.m.

Reception:  Following the program, Main Library, Sixth Floor, Skylight Gallery 100 Larkin Street (at Grove)

Related Exhibition:  From August 14 through October 21, 2004, Main Library, Sixth Floor, Skylight Gallery 100 Larkin Street (at Grove)

The book that's being published is called, "The Forgotten Book" (T'boli Press, 2004) written by Abe Ignacio, Jorge Emmanuel, Enrique dela Cruz and Helen Toribio. Book design by Carl Angel. It's gorgeous! Complete with several full color and black and white scans of the original newspaper prints. Been watching its progress over the last few weeks as the authors painstakingly went through the proofs to pick up any last typos and errors. And to think it all started on ebay, where Abe found many of the initial publications and pictures.

Hopefully the box from Hong Kong will get there in time.

bridal fairs and such

Attended my first bridal fair at the Hotel Nikko. Got Nikko mixed up with Miyako and ended up in the wrong place, but had good sushi nonetheless while we were there. We got to the Nikko after the fashion show.

The $10 entrance was worth getting a copy of "Here comes the guide" which lists various Bay Area locations for weddings. Personally, I didn't have a whole lot of luck going to each of the booths. Won a free tuxedo for the best man at the Selix Formals booth, too bad the SO's best man is really the best woman and that we're doing barong tagalog. Ran into a guy I knew from college. He quit engineering three years ago to become a financial planner, so he was selling financial planning to potential young couples. I did mention that my partner and I have been planning our finances for the last three years, but still filled out the questionnaire. I figured he was getting a buck for each one he got. Though part of me wonders how much he could possibly know about financial planning in terms of life experience or whether he was selling me stuff out of the "book."

Goldilocks had a booth. They seem to be getting in the high end cake business. The string quartet gave out CDs of the music they can play at weddings and receptions. Couldn't use them either since we're thinking about having kulintang music.

However, it did seem like the karmic wheel was turning. In the same way that somehow D ended up with a book on how to pick a wedding dress, which ended up in my hands, I approached a table with services I didn't need, but answered the prayers of D. There was a priest manning a table. He asked me if we had our arrangements. I said we did. Then he picked up a flyer and said, "Well if you know of anyone who has a problem with the Roman (Catholics)..." He was part of the Benedictine's called the White Robed Monks, who call themselves "Modern Catholics" and will conduct a Catholic wedding at any location you would like complete with Eucharist. No pre-marriage classes, no need to have special excemptions for non-Catholics, no restrictions for previously divorced people, no need to have to have the ceremony inside a church.

One of D's mother's wishes is for her to have a Catholic wedding. Check! Finding him at the bridal fair was a godsend! Like most Roman Catholics, we forget there are other sects and orders of Catholicism.

I know that if I didn't already have a Roman Catholic priest in mind, then we too might have been looking for a White Robed Monk. But I'm glad there are options outside the Roman Catholic church that allow you to remain as Catholic as you want to be. I'd like to think faith isn't bound by buildings or books.

lanzones and a tropical fruit question

Nothing like reminicing about tropical fresh fruit that gets Filipinos salivating for home. Many of the fruits are just too delicate to ship over. They're practically spoiling in your hands when they're ripe and sweet. For some, like the SO, it would be one of the main reasons to ever want to go to the Philippines, so he can savor the fruit one more time. This too is difficult as one must time the correct season for the fruit to be in season which can vary from island to island. My mother says lanzones in Laguna are ripe in August, but I know that Lanzones Festival is not celebrated in Camiguin until October. What is a Filipino to do? If you're like my aunt, the answer is to hunt down the other Asian names for it and track in down in one of many Asian oriented supermarkets.

Well, she found them. Imported from Thailand. They call them longan on the package with the alternative name of lanzones. Island Pacific super market. Frozen. She brought my mom a package. The skins are not as thick, but the freezing also saves you from the gooey stickiness of the skins. The seeds are small, not the larger smooth black seeds. But the BEST part of all? No ants! Apparently, they also have santol fresh frozen as well, which completed the checklist of the SO's reasons to go back home.

As the pile of lanzones peels grew, my mother and I searched our brains for the name of this one fruit we have yet to see on this side of the ocean. It's kind of cone shape, like a pine cone without all the petals about the size of one's fist. On the tree, they are kind of spiky like jackfruit. On the inside they are mushy and white. Sometimes sweet, sometimes a bit sour. With smooth black seeds. Soursop, maybe? But what are its various Philippine names? You know what I'm talking about?

honest abe

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Taal

Hey John, since the fog marred your view, Taal Lake is a lake in a volcano in a lake on an island in the ocean. hmmm...I guess I'll just have to sette for the postcard picture. I already know what fog looks like.

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wow.

a pious heart

One of my students went on a road trip and listened to Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth. She related one of her favorite stories in it:

Joseph Campbell tells this Indian story about a student and teacher.  The teacher is very cross with the student for being very late to class. "Well the river is at over flow," he explained. The teachers asks then how did you get here at all. The student said he absolutely believed in his teacher and his desire was so great to get to class that he began to walk across the water chanting to himself, "Gura, Gura, Gura." Well the pious student heart was true and he found he could walk across the water. The teacher acknowledged him with a nod and continued the lesson. That night the Gura was peaked with curiousity. He went down the river where his student had crossed. He looked around. No one was watching. So he began to ford the river himself chanting, "I, I, I." He drowned.

A few things I took from the story: 1) when faith and desire are true you will find a way to get there, 2) one person's truth may not be another's, and 3) try not to be so conceited when crossing the swollen river.

thank you. salamat. daghan salamat.

I received this thank you poem from Ros Zerruldo, my fabulous hostess at Tarzan's Nest resort in Camiguin, Mindanao, Philippines. May I return there some day.

a synthesis of thank you’s’

at the last breathe
when life has exhausted
every passion
when dreams of
young and old
move in a spiral synthesis
upwards and deep

I only want to know love
in my heart
and nothing else
so in the end
I have nothing left
for I have given my all
for I have to die alive

and in between dead ends and
dry river bends
I move forward
as life embraces me
back in the sacred process
of making my own life
a gift

as I face my darkest nights
and de-paralyze my fears
I open my heart
to divine whispers to guide me
back to my truth
I bathe in the morning sun
so my skin sheds off
the burden of age,
the definitions of other people,
the responsibility of belongings,
the expectations of the world
then I become nothing
as I merges with the light
for my heart speaks
the same language
of the soul of the world

as circumstances isolates me
I am grateful that the path
leads me to a journey
back to myself
so I choose to speak only of truth
out of love
and to love only out of truth
so, I can unload my self
of my own nightmares
and relearn to travel light
then I can be of help to others
to unload their burdens

today, I make again a pact with my god
as I make myself
truly deserving
to be
love

I hug each and every person
in the sacred circle
as I mirror the love back
that life has given me

by the end of the day
I have nothing left to say
but
thank you
for walking with me
and holding my hand dear
that brought me to this
spiritual mountain of
self-transformation

thank you to
the countless nightmares,
painful encounters,
failed marriages,
dysfunctional relationship,
demanding professions,
crazy depressions,
immature orgasms,
frustrating family issues

I thank all the moments
for making me
who I am
for I need every piece
of this fabric of life
so I can realize
my dreams and weave
the greatest masterpiece
of making my life
as mad,
colorful,
succulent,
wild,
work of art

I say thank you
to god
for opening my eyes
to see beauty
for touching my heart
to appreciate beauty
for knowing a life
that exudes beauty
for there is beauty
when
love and passion
are one

I'll put it on the list

One of my clients just came back from France. It's his second attempt at learning French by going to France. Strike Two. He did however, learn how to touch type. Going to France to learn to touch type. He's got a good life. I want to someday go to France just to say I learned to touch type (even though I already know how).

Before fixing his computer, he told me about going to the Basque region with its incomprehensible/unpronounceable language with direct lineages to the Neanderthals. No conquering armies from East Africa, no marauding troops of various world wars, just the Basque. He said the food was fabulous and you can get away with a few French and Spanish words. The language itself is simply based on itself without any Romantic language root ties.

I mentioned in the middle of his stories that I had never been to Europe. He pauses, pulls back in a bit of shock, "but you are so Paris!" he said. "You are a Paris person! You have to go!" I told him that it's on my life's todo list and that a cousin of mine was moving to Spain. "No, not Spain. Paris!" Yes, yes, I'll remember...Paris.

This is the second time someone said I was French. A friend looked into my refrigerator once, barely filled with various cheeses, crusted baguettes, and an opened bottle of wine. None of the bagoong or leftover rice in a typical Filipino ref. She closed the door, looked at me, "Michelle, you are so French!"

So, now I've added Paris to the life's list of todos that include skydiving, writing a NYTimes best seller, a house in Hawaii, 2-3 kids, and a few poetry books as well. Does learning the French words to the Beetle's song "Michelle" count?

My client's words resonate in my head again, "No, no, Paris! PARIS!" Oui, Monsieur....Paris.

on tweaking tradition

My mother has been reading wedding ettiquete websites lately. She read one where it said it was "tacky" to have a money dance. The website must not have been Filipino. The bridal magazines are full of "miss manner" type advise, who is supposed to pay for what, who is supposed to arrange for what (the bride, the groom, the parents). American culture dictates the bride's family takes care of the wedding. Filipinos say the groom's family does. In a Filipino-American wedding, I think we'll be splitting it down the middle.

Frankly, weddings cost way too much (you could buy a mercedes benz cash) with the average cost of a wedding, to even ask one side to pay for the entire thing.

In Filipino weddings, the line of sponsors grows longer and longer. Traditionally, the sponsors are asked to pay for an aspect of the wedding, like say the Bride's dress, or the flowers. Thus, the increasing list of 10 pairs or more of "godparents" to spread the bill. In the Philippines, the sponsors are often tactical maneuvers to reinforce political bonds.

They also say that weddings are formal affairs without kids, mostly a monetary constraint. Then again, where's the fun in that? Well, most of the extended circle probably won't bring their kids, but certainly our close family will.

As we come across each "tradition," we've been deciding which ones to keep, which ones to toss, and which ones could use some fine tuning and upgrading.

We're going to bring in the Pamanhikan, which Chatty mentioned before that she will be digging deep into her Illocano roots to "represent" the SO's side. In this ritual, it emphasizes the importance of the woman to the family. They "lose" a daughter, and don't "gain" a son. Such loss demands compensation. I'm looking forward to this. It brings me back to the days of "courting" and "courtship." Makes the two sides realize the value they place on their children. The bride's family wanting to make sure that the groom has the means to take care of their daughter as well as acknowleding how each of the family members contribute to the functioning of the family. It's more than just two people, you are uniting whole families and communities in the process.

As for the "sponsors," we believe that what they have given us already is more than any monetary value. We wanted to pick people, couples specifically, who have over the years have by their example shown us what a good marriage entails through both the sadness and the joy. We have watched them raise families, build homes, survive struggles, and simply get through the day to day happenings of married life. It is a way for us to acknowledge the wisdom and knowledge they have already imparted.

Website or not, we'll certainly have a money dance. But this is a tradition we might tweak just a bit. I attended several of Chatty's marriage ceremonies to poetry. Watched how people pinned poems on the bride. The money is really a symbol of the prosperity and richness that people want to send off with the couple as they begin their marriage. So, I'm thinking, maybe we'll open up the money dance to more than just money, but also include poems and maybe strips of paper with words of wisdom. These too I find "valuable" and "important." If people want to be more "traditional" and pin money, that's fine too.

We're looking at tweaking a few other things too. Some parts will be traditionally "traditional," others will be variations. But in looking at tradition, I am reminded of the "value" and "wisdom" that these traditions are meant to pass on to the next generation. It's important then to understand the meaning of these traditions and to ask ourselves, what values we share with our ancestors, what values have changed, and perhaps give a couple of old values an updated look.

a story every day

The SO says that I meet the most interesting people. I don't really know how I do this. It just happens. They talk, I listen, they say interesting stuff about their lives.

As a writer, I believe in thievery (not plageurism), that ideas, maybe key phrases come to me from someplace, someone else. Creativity to some extent may be a matter of knowing what is good to steal. I think it's what drives me to believe that just about every person out there has a story, and an interesting story at that. You just have to wait for them to tell it to you.

Anyway, had dinner with a friend that was in town over at Toppings Too in Union City, which the yellow pages says is on Smith street, but it's really on Watkins, behind Paddy's cafe. She brought along another friend, I'll call Don (not his real name).

With people I don't know, I often spend most of my time listening, because, well, I'm trying to learn about this person. Don is a gay pinoy, out and happily in a relationship, living in the suburbs of the Bay Area. It's not the typical Filipino city like Daly City, Union City or Vallejo. It's one of those old white flight cities, that are just inundated by Filipinos, kind of like Concord, where you ask yourself, "when did all these Filipinos move out here?"

In the course of conversation over some fabulous sinagang, fried bangus, and taho, (we highly recommend Toppings Too) the SO asked how the two of them met. They said they met doing HIV and AIDS education work in the community and somewhere in that banter they mentioned that Don had been in the seminary, a Jesuit, who I hear tend to be kind of strict in terms of following Catholic doctrine. His mother cried when he went to seminary. You'd think she would be happy since some Catholic Pinay mothers swear a son in the seminary is a ticket to heaven. She was Methodist. They didn't believe in this ticket. It was his father, Hawaii plantation grown, who was the not-so-strict Catholic.

I couldn't pass this up. I had to ask. There had to be a lot of gay men there? He said of course there were. And AIDS was actually quite prevalent, but the church kept it quite hush. The church is very good at keeping things secret. It's one of things that bothers him in the way the church is run. How this secrecy costs lives. He began to suspect something when a main priest died of "pneumonia." Later in his AIDS counseling work, he would see some of the old priests at the workshops. This was the late 60s/early 70s.

A turning point came to him when he met a former Jesuit priest who was gay. The former priest followed the Thomas Aquinas model of thinking and reasoned out the reasons he could not stay in the church. Don would later write a letter straight to the Vatican asking for dismissal. He did the same thing. He wrote that he believed his destiny was to have a relationship with another man. The Vatican person replied, well, don't you think this goes against church doctrine? (ie how can a priest who supposedly believe in the church, believe in this?) Don replied that he could no longer serve his full duties as a priest with his informed conscience. What could they do? His informed conscience told him he couldn't stay.

But, as he said, he didn't throw out the baby with the bath water. He still believed in many of things he learned in the church. This just happens to be the deal breaker in being a priest.

Later, our friend would write an article about him being gay in a magazine. He didn't think anyone would read it. He didn't think anyone read that magazine. Next thing he knew, his aunties were calling up his mom, asking her if it was true, asking if he dressed in drag, asking if he was sick with AIDS. When his mother called him, she said they always kind of knew, and why did he have to "come out" this way? He's not sure what was a bigger shock to him, that all his relatives read the article or that his parents "always knew"?

Don's friends keep asking him when is he going to write his book. Wouldn't that be an intriguing book, whether it was fiction or not, the journey in and out of the Catholic Church in the early days of AIDS. Sign me up for a book now! He knows he should. You can hear it in his voice when he sighs that he hasn't written anything yet. What I also hear in his sighs, is the doubt that his life really is not that interesting. He lives in the suburbs with his partner near his elderly parents. How can that be interesting?

It's the self imposed doubt of most writers I suppose. Even when people tell you you've got the makings of a great story that basically writes itself, somehow, having lived it, it seems rather mundane. This is what fascinates me about writing, whether it's poetry, short story, or novel, that in the proper telling of a story mundane life can be the greatest story ever told. The trick is, convincing yourself you should tell it.

motion sickness sitting still

Went to watch the Bourne Supremacy last night. Good movie from what I heard of it. I had forgotten that I have hit the age where I can get motion sickness sitting still from watching anything jittery or fast focused, like most action movies nowadays. You know the ones that do closeups from far away so everything is just blurry to give the affect that everything is moving so fast even though the action is really slow, like in the fight scenes. Thank you MTV and Blair Witch Project.

My mother is like this. I didn't understand it before. As I've gotten older, I've come to understand what she's talking about. Watching Bourne Supremacy was excruciating. I spent most of the time in the theater with my hands over my eyes. Motion sickness which leads to a bit of claustrophobia. I'm sure I could have watched the movie on TV, but on the big screen I'm overwhelmed by the amount of information. Same feeling I got from watching "Requiem for a Dream."

It's as if I can't stop the information from coming in and suddenly all my senses go overboard. The smell of popcorn making me naseus, light sensitivity, heaing sensitivity. I felt like that guy on an episode of Star Trek Next Generation. The Betazed who was overly sensitive and could hear the thoughts of everybody at one time.

I can watch movies like Kill Bill where the camera lingers on the slightest details, that pans wide to allow you the full view. I can watch movies like Barbershop that spend most of their time in conversation.

Sorry Bourne, going to have to save my $9 for some other movie like "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle."

I'll feed him before we visit

Chatty, Achilles is so adorable! I showed the SO and he said, "Achilles looks delicious." I quickly closed the screen as a spot of drool left the corner of his mouth. I promise to make sure the SO is well fed before the next time we come up the mountain.

titanium white and cadmium yellow

I'm thinking about learning how to paint. I think about this every now and then particularly when the poetic well is running low. Fortunately I still write to this blog on a fairly regular basis.

I've come to the part of the cylce in my life when I'm not writing, simply because I don't feel like saying anything right now. If the cycle runs its course, next year should be much more prolific for me in terms of writing. But for now, I'm watching the grass grow.

I attended a seminar retreat being run by my old English teacher. She recently wrote a book called, "Fresh Water" that she's looking to get published. It's a book about finding and seeing the gifts from God on a daily basis. I found that though I tended to replace God with "Higher Power" or "the Universe," in the end, we shared similar spiritual philosophies. I believe in the reciprical nature of love and that the gifts and words that come to us can come from anywhere and everywhere, not just in church, not just in scripture. Those are just some of the vehicles.

At the end of the seminar she set up various stations to allow ourselves to enter private moments of being in the present time. A station to listen to music, a station to read poems and words, a station to look at nature pictures, and a station to paint on tile.

I bounced around and found myself at the tile painting section last. Most people wanted to paint something distinct, a picture of a lake, a tree, something specific. I wanted to paint where my brush wanted to go. Pick up colors that drew me in. Paint what felt "right." It was nice to be in this space. To be obsessive over the stroke of the tip. Explore how the colors changed. As folks were cleaning up, I frantically tried to hurry up and finish the tile, remembering the advise of a 2nd grade teacher, "always fill the entire canvas." I'll find out in a week what my tile will look like.

I came away thinking I wanted to paint more. Perhaps take a class to get me started. I've been spending much time in my head as of late. My life is planning, planning, planning. It'd be nice to set aside some time, to leave that behind for a few moments here and there. There have been images that have come to me, that I have not found the words for. These images are building, waiting for me to give them an outlet somewhere. In the same way I cannot deny the poem when it is written. I cannot deny these paintings in my head. They deserve that much.

manilatown designation in san francisco

Click the pict for the full SF Gate article.

moving out, moving up

I get a call from my dad. We chat about things. He wants to know if my brother is going to my cousin's wedding later next month. I say, he's not because he has a retreat. My dad wants to know why my brother has so many retreats. I think my dad forgets that when I was in college, I had just as many retreats and in high school it was basketball games. But I think he thinks it's different with my brother, since these big family gatherings are the only times he gets to see his only son.

Then he moves the topic about how my brother is looking for a new place. My father doesn't understand this either. Why would my brother want to move just because they raise his rent by $50/month, when he only has one year left? My father doesn't like change. In some sense, he's a man of least resistence. He's an accountant, a numbers and cents/sense kind of guy. To him, $50/month is worth not having to move. My father doesn't like moving. He worries I think that my brother won't have a place to stay and that his friends will only let him stay at their places for so long. There's friendship, and then there's overstaying your welcome.

I don't think my father understands that when your friends are still in their 20s, especially early 20s, sofa crashing a few weeks here, a few weeks there is part of the college culture. At that age, it's typical for people to be "in-between" locations. When people get older and start having significant others, partners and kids, well, that habit starts to look more like "your friend's a bum". But for now, it's a tolerable.

I can understand why my brother wants to move. His three other roommates have all graduated and left. I wouldn't want to stay there either. My brother is in his "Super Senior" year which is always a tricky place to be. Feel kind of "been there, done that" yet have to stay focused to get through and wrap up this one last year. My brother is moving, because his life is moving to a different place. A place where he's one foot in college and one foot out. A place where he'll make his transition to being out of college.

My dad forgets that both my sister and I both had these transition places. A location that is close to campus, but a bit further away, a bit more "grown-up" than the ones before. A place that is "nicer" than the junky "college" places. Maybe I should tell my father about a friend of mine who moved once a year, every year for 5 years. I watched as she continually made significant changes in the kind of life she wanted to live, thus requiring yet another move. It really wasn't about money per se.

My father left the Philippines and has moved twice in the 30+ years he's been here. I think he's forgotten how he lived in the province, then his aunt's place, then Manila when he was a young man. For his life here, his life has basically been the same, a man with a family.

There is a natural desire to have your immediate surroundings reflect the kind of person you are and want to be. Sometimes, you just have to rearrange the inside of your place to make the changes you want in your life. But you can only change so much on the inside, because sometimes, the changes are just so big, you need to move to make this big change to change your life. To give yourself a chance to evaluate what you want to take with you and what you should leave behind. No, my brother is moving for a lot more than just $50 a month.

D and I went to David's Bridal to go try on a few wedding dresses. This place is like the super stop shop for brides from dresses, shoes, tiaras, clutch purses and whatever random thing a bride might be enticed to by.

I tried on a few dresses of different styles to see what I like and what looks good on me. Note, what you like and what looks good on you are not necessarily the same thing, so I needed to go try some on because I needed a good reality check. I try strapless, small cap sleeves, train/no train, halter top. I'll spare the details, just the highlights and some thoughts.

1. There is no way I can wear a strapless dress without suffocating. Since I have no chest to hold said dress up, they'd have to sew it so tight on my body that the great pressure from simply trying to breathe will provide enough hydrolics to hold it up.
   
   
2. One can have too much shiny. One can have too much lace. One can be too poofy.
   
   
3. $200 for a comb and cloth, known as a veil. $150 for a tiara. Both of which I could make for $20 with a visit to Michael's craft store and a glue gun. Can we say "smoking crack?"
   
   
4. I don't know how much those slippers with slight 2 inch heel cost, but I would pay it. Cuz, dang, comfortable heels to wear an entire day are priceless.
   
   
5. Everyone tries on a tiara and veil, even if they're not the ones getting married.
   
   

Ay, naku, John!

So, John has decided to write poetry on his days off while in Pampanga. In a post he had written about possibly writing haikus, then I nudged him here. Next thing I know, he's got a Hay(na)ku blog!

Warrior Poet

Battle,
Warrior poet,
With your words

Now playing in the Philippines

Imelda was trying to block the viewing of Ramona Diaz's "Imelda" from showing in the Philippines. But, the judge didn't buy the argument that Ramona Diaz tricked Imelda into it.

"I am looking like an airhead, like a frivolous, wanton, extravagant woman at the expense of the poor," Ms Marcos said. "I am made to look like a cheap flirt, flirting with all the men of the world."

Can't wait for the DVD!

lashes, nails, and lipstick

Apparently, a Tigress with lipstick is an even more lethal combination. Hmmm...if I had known that, maybe I would have been more interested in the stuff rather than doing this Kali martial arts for so many years!

Fortunately, I'm blessed with a few things that make the girlie-girl stuff easier. I do have fairly long lashes so I only need a light amount of mascara for me. I used to look at my aunt's eyelash curler with its stuck pieces of lashes like some kind of modern medieval torture device. The SO, for the record, has even thicker and longer lashes than myself. AND he even has practiced batting said eyelashes at a wicked pace that is slightly cute and charming, yet horrifyingly scary when you realize he's the one batting his eyelashes.

The one girlie-girl thing I always enjoyed was getting my nails done or painting my nails. I have long fingers and strong flexible long nails to boot. Like candles, they tell me. I've never had a need for fake nails. I used to be really into changing my nail color, til the SO informed me about how toxic the chemicals for removing nail polish were, thus I cut back on doing that.

But polished nails are particularly lethal in Kali, when you wave your fingers and the lighter sparkles off the glorious colors and suddenly the guys are enchanted by the fire that flits on your fingertips. Sucker punch every time.

Which brings me to the point that women expose themselves to a lot of nasty stuff to make themselves fabulous. Have you ever tried keeping a steady hand doing eyeliner! Just saw an article that lipstick contains cow brains. For what end, I'm not sure. I think I'll search for non-cow brain lip stick.

Being beautiful is a dangerous thing.

Welcome into the world

Congrats kay Leny! Brand new Lola! Naks!

girlie-girls and girlie-men

Well, our dear governator decided to call the demos girlie-men, in attempting to say that him being a manly-man (presumably) has the qualities to get a budget through. Yet the traits of being a "manly-man" or being hard, forceful, and unflinching (traits presumed of manly-men) will utimately not get anywhere either. unlike previous governors who played politics within the halls of the capital. The governator gets to run and squeal to mommy (the people of California) when he thinks the other kids aren't playing nice. Though I've often observed the one that tattled also did something previously to provoke the situation so he ain't no victim neither. Now all we need to do is to ground all the kids, the governator for tattling and the representatives for hitting too hard. Or should we just let kids be kids and let them duke it out?

In the meantime, I'm trying to learn what it means to be a girlie-girl. D leant me a book on bridal dresses and how to pick the best style for you. I thought it was kind of funny D had this book considering she's not the first one to be running to an altar or committment ceremony, what have you. She said got it cuz well you never know, she might know someone getting married. Which again is funny, because D is a bit of a recluse and I am D's one declared girlfriend girlfriend. So, I guess in the end, this book was meant for me, to school me on my personal ineptitude for girlie-girl things. I shouldn't question or complain.

Growing up I wasn't the young girl dreaming about her white wedding. I didn't have a Barbie to play wed Ken. (Though it sounds like even Barbie broke up and went for an Australian guy). I wanted transformers and GI Joes. I didn't care that the bike scrapes on my knees would make my legs "look bad" when I wore skirts. I didn't practice putting makeup on my dolls, or styling hairdos.

It's been a slow process, learning these things and understanding how they apply to me, learning and developing a sense of personal style. From knowing what colors and styles look good on me, to knowing the difference between mascara and lip liner. It also means it's a change of style and a change in the look I give to people and the way they react to me. It's much more dressed up and in turn people have to adjust to this "new" me.

My sister is more Martha Stewart-y (minus the stock trading conviction). She emails me every couple of weeks for a new idea on reception table centerpieces. While my mother ponders what kind of jewelry and outfit she should wear and asks whether I'll get my ears pierced, because she has a pair of earrings that would match. I am told I had my ears pierced once as all Filipino girls are pierced well before they have any memory of it. But, because I would constantly lose them while jumping on mom and dad's bed, the studs never stayed in the holes long enough to make them holes.

And now, here I am, with a girlfriend date with D to go try on some bridal dresses. I don't think I'm as excited as one might think I would be. A friend of my soon to be sister-in-law will be designing my dress. He does costumes for some soap opera in LA. The bridal dress trip is part of the research. I have to tell him what kind of dress I'd like. We might even hit up a bridal fair or two in the next few months.

In a couple of weeks, the SO and I will check out a hotel for the reception and a jewelry store for the rings. It all still feels kind of surreal. Perhaps it just hasn't hit me yet. Perhaps I'm still getting in touch with my girlie-girl. It's a brand new world after all.

make-up, hairspray, and duct tape

Tickets are now on sale for the Filipino Task Force on AIDS Miss Trans Globe Beauty Pageant.

Miss Trans Globe will become a spokesperson for FTFA to the transgender community. A lot of the women there work at AsiaSF, that trendy restaurant where all the waitresses are trans. I know it takes a lot of work just for women to put out their glamorous side. But I am awe struck at what these contestants go through to achieve that. All in order to express on their outer selves, what they're inner selves are like.

Though everyone is Filipino, contestants must pick a country that they will represent. The last time we went there was Miss France who said she was from the country of "French kisses, French men, and French fries." Filipinos are everywhere afterall.

on target

Here's my target at 50 yards, magnified scope. The circle is 6 inches in diameter. The center is 2 inches.

Here's the SO's, at 50 yards, using an electronic scope (no magnification), a much harder to aim as precisely but certainly easier than a rifle with no added gizmos.

these past lives

Despite his highly urban upbringing, I think the SO was a country boy in a past life. He's discovering he likes twangy country music, wide open plains with grand mountains in the background, and now gun shooting. There's something in these things that resonate with him. He also thinks he may have been Caribbean at one point, noting his love for plaintains.

I don't really know if people have past lives or not, but my guess is that they do and that somehow the knowledge of those lives before, the things we like and are attracted to now are clues to that past life. Well, in any case, it's a fun game and as a writer, I like making up stories about who I was before and where I might have lived.

In Laura Esquivel's "The Law of Love," she brings us to a future where everything is about your karmic returns. Your jobs are determined by past lives. Objects can speak through devices of their own previous lives. You are stuck with your abusive husband if they find out in a past life you killed his whole family. Are the people in our lives simply reincarnations of a cohort we've met lives and lives past? In her book, the greatest saints in the current day would have been at some point the most diabolical.

I don't think this is my first time as a Filipino. I think I was one of those seafarers who travelled the ocean currents. Sitting on boats, going over the waves, I'm home. I'm attracted to the swords and the cloth. I can learn to tie knots in a fishing net. And scuba diving brought me to a place I felt I had been before. Perhaps I was one of the original balanghais that supposedly populated much of the south pacific.

The SO and D love going to the antique fair in Alameda. They're attracted to the turn of the century items and photos and gadgets. I don't find them too interesting. I wonder if they lived then. I don't think I ever did.

I think I might have been a farmer as well. I like dirt. I like planting and growing things. I spent a vacation day in Hawaii pulling weeds out of a taro patch instead of lounging on the beach. Go figure.

There are a few people I've met who seem like, this is their first time around the block. I would say those extreme adventurer types or those ones you know who experimented with every drug known to man would be on that list.

So, if indeed, we had lessons from a past life, then the question remains, what are we to learn in this one.

I might have missed my calling

Maybe I missed my calling as a sniper. Went to the gun range at Lake Chabot Park in Castro Valley with the SO's friend from work J. Nice guy. Gave us our gun safety lesson and the tour of his various 22 caliber rifles.

It's a beautiful location. You drive 6 miles down a windy road through the redwoods to get there. Far from the usual hiking and biking trails of Lake Chabot. You are allowed to shoot in 15 minute intervals with breaks to put up and pull down your targets. It's highly regulated with people monitoring to make sure you follow all the rules. And if a deer happens to want to walk through the range, a cease fire is called.

He explained the different sized bullets. Metal bullet casings littered the ground, some worn and rusty, some still shiny with copper. He had rifles without scopes (open sight), haloscan sight (get to match a red dot and cross hairs to the target), and a magnified scope (where you can see where your bullet actually hit).

J likes to shoot in the morning he says when it's not hot and before the rowdier folks get there. To get to this park at 9am, most of these people were like the bicyclists we passed on the road, they were here to practice a discipline. Many were hunters, though alot of them were simply there to be marksmen. J shoots ground squirrel on farms in the central coast where he grew up. Ground squierrels create holes where the cattle step and break their legs.

Of course, J is a member of the NRA though he thinks there are folks who take the politics of the 2nd Amendment too far and he believes "anti-gunners" don't understand what guns really are. He says their safety training program is by far the best one.

He likened shooting to playing golf, the art of taking this small thing and hitting a target far far away. It's in the focus of the goal that allows him to let go of the stresses of the workweek. You drive through wonderful woods, and spend the morning outdoors, plus it costs less overall than golf. Well, unless you walk down the range and see some of these customized guns people have: shaft, trigger, scope. Three grand. These aren't hunting rifles, these are for marksmanship. And yeah, if I had all that stuff, I better have a spread of bullets less than half an inch. These guys pack their own bullets. Literally pour he gun powder and everything.

He explained the major points of gun safety:

1. Always assume a gun is loaded even if the magazine is out and you think you've removed all the bullets.
   
2. Always aim the gun barrel up or down the range
   
3. Leave your finger off the trigger until you are ready to shoot
   
4. Only aim at something you want to destroy
   
5. Always look at what's beyond the target. A bullet never really stops at the thing you want to hit, even if actually hit it, it'll travel well past that target.
   

J believes that we don't need more gun laws, just enforce the ones out there. But in his explanations I noticed that the mighty flaw of gun control, is that in the end, people don't care. The gang bangers who shoot up Oakland's streets don't care about where all their missed bullets fall. The "legitimate" guy who walks in and purchases a gun for an "illegitimate" person for some serious cash doesn't care where that guns goes when he calls the cops to say he was robbed and his gun was stolen. You can create all sorts of restrictions for the people who actually follow the laws, but in the end how do you stop the people who just don't care. How do you bust the "legitimate" guys who are selling to the street? And the ones doing drivebys want to destroy people, whether it's their target, or the kid playing down the street.

Firing off the various rifles, you begin to realize how hard it is to really shoot a very specific target. One slight shift in your finger, and you've missed by a foot. Shift your arm and now its 20 feet. No wonder the people doing drivebys use automatic weapons (guns that continue to fire so long as the trigger is held), they're hoping to hit their targets by luck. It's a guessing game. When they pull the trigger they're only "hoping" they hit the guy. In the more rural areas, where you still might eat and use the animals you kill, guns have a function and a purpose. In the urban areas, other than the gun range, the only thing to really shoot at are people.

The rifles we used were not automatic. One was semi-automatic which means one trigger, one bullet and the bullet loads itself. The non-automatic rifles you have to open and close before each shot. There was a deliberation and rhythm to it all. Only aim at what you want to destroy.

I can understand the allure of marksmanship for these men. I think I was the only woman there in the rifle areas. Most women are in the pistol section of the range. Though he says that the women who do come out are very very good. It's a challenge you make with yourself. How accurate can you be. In order to be that accurate, you have to have a certain sense of calm in order to be in that moment. For these people at the range, it's about an inner peace.

I found myself to be rather good at all of the rifles and simply got better the better the equipment got better, staying well within the 8 inch diameter of the black centered target. With the magnified scope I hit 12 of the 14 bullets within the very center circle, 2 inches. On the open site, I stayed in the black, hitting the center area most often despite the gun drifting high. At times you feel crosseyed. Sometimes I would hold my breath as I slowly squeezed the trigger. I don't know how these people in the biathalon do it.

The difference between swords and guns is that with swords you can do this destruction at a long distance. If you aren't really aiming, that furthers your disassociation with your target. I've always understood the idea that if I were to really injure someone, or perhaps even take their life, using my martial art skills, that that life would now and forever be bound to me. I have destroyed a world of every life that interacted with that person. And I am responsible for the destruction I have created. There is a choice for me to make. And I have to know whether that choice is worth the consequences, it may, it may not. But the further we get from that, the farther the target, when the "target" simply becomes a point on a map, the less we have to make these "choices" and we can no longer see the worlds we are actually destroying, that is how we lose our humanity.

Flex, Girl! Flex!

I got my brick in the mail today. It thoroughly crushed all the other mail in my small mail box, good thing it was all junk mail. Dang, Chatty who needs a gym, when you can develop some serious biceps with this thing!

I'm hoping to set up a couple of book launches in the SF Bay (at least the east bay) for the book this fall. Yes, that's multiple launches, a book this size deserves more than one. I'm thinking at least one is going to be a karaoke night. In many ways the two are the same, it's about letting your voice be heard. Will have to read through its pages to get some other ideas for the launches. Leave a comment or back channel if you've got a venue or idea in mind.

feeling the burn

D and I exchanged commiserating stories of the fast. Yes, we got half way, but now we really start to feel the burn. We're just downing the lemonade and still there's a greater desire than physical hunger. The mind starts to become numb from the constant taste of maple syrup and the citrusy coat of lemons on your tongue. You begin to understand why the discovery of spices became so pinnacle in world history.

BUT, we agreed that we have a greater appreciation for what we're putting into our bodies. D intends to set forth on her life goal of eating healthier and learning how to cook. I intend to drink a whole lot more water cuz my skin is so fabulously silky smooth even in this dry California summer. If anything, the diet knocks us out of our various habits of munchies and the idea of simply putting food in our mouths because it's there and it's convenient. D and I talk about what new foods we'd like to try. Though, that's probably not a good idea while we're on the diet.

This is actually the first diet I've ever been on. No wonder people fall off of their weight loss diets. Obviously there isn't simply a nutritional tie we have to food, but also emotional attachments we make. Sure, they might some day invent a pill that provides your complete nutritional and caloric needs, but what will fill in that emotional need. Last night was frustrating. It has been a bit hard since the SO is not on the diet. There's a lot of conversation that's had over a meal and now we have to wait to have those conversations after he's eaten. I was hitting the mental fatigue of it all. My discipline was wearing thin. I hated lemons, I hated maple syrup, and I especially hated the salt wash.

I texted D about possibly ending after 7 days instead of the prescribed 10. She was down with that idea and has a gallon of orange juice waiting in the fridge for that very moment. Day 6 was not so bad to get through. I think I can hang in one more day for Day 7. Then drink the OJ on Saturday morning.

It feels like going on this diet resets the body. I'm not so much looking forward to solid food as much as I'm looking forward to flavors and not just simply salt and sweet. I appreciate food more and in turn have a greater respect for the well being of the body I put this food into.

heading to the range

Saturday morning we're off to the gun range with a co-worker of the SO. The co-worker grew up on a farm and now keeps guns and shoots mostly 22 rifle. He's invited us to come along and printed out the NRA's gun safety guide.

In many ways, the mission of the NRA to promote gun safety and training is excellent. I just wish they hadn't gotten so maniacal about gun possession. Just because we are allowed to possess guns doesn't mean simply getting a gun is a wise thing to do.

In teaching martial arts, I run into one or two students who come in and the only thing they want to do is "stick fight" or they want to know how to use knives. Now, first off, I don't teach "stick fighting," I teach a martial art. Second off, it'll be a while before I put a knife in someone's hands, even in class, even if it's a practice knife.

In many ways, people think weapons are easy, knives are easy, guns are easy, just pull a trigger, just move your hand. And so they think since they have the right to bear arms they should be able to exercise that right this very second. These people are attracted to the "power" that these weapons have. But they don't like to think about the responsibility and respect for such power.

Even my teacher waits 2 years before he might teach someone knife, because it takes at least 2 years before the person gains the kind of control and patience needed to handle a weapon as deadly as that. Of the live (sharpened real) knives I have, I only actually will use only a few of them in sparring because those are the ones I know well.

I believe in the spirit of weapons and in the soul of an object. Often when I pick up a new blade I will make a pact with it, that if I treat it well, it will protect me as well and will only cut when I ask it to cut.

After 10 years there are some blades and some techniques that I still find frighteningly scary. And when a beginner tells me they want to get a real blade right away, I often wonder do they realize the risk involved. And I want to ask them if they can move as thinly as the blade? Can they move as easily as the knife cuts? As a tool, a knife doesn't care what it cuts, whether it's your enemy, or the tomatos for your sandwich. And a gun and a bullet doesn't care what it kills which is why it needs to be given the utmost respect and care.

There was one seminar on the large kampilan swords, some people had brand new replicas that were live. It had to be one of the scariest classes I had ever been in. You could feel the heaviness in people's breath. In class you think it's ok to make a mistake because this is a class and I'm learning. But in this class, we all knew, there could be few mistakes. The air was tattered with these blades swinging through.

We have training and tests to drive cars and motocycles and 16-wheelers, why don't we have just as many tests for gun possession? You could still have a gun, you just would have to prove you know how to handle one well before you could get one.

Day 5

It's Day 5 of this Master Cleanse Lemonade Diet. Whoo-hoo! Half way through! I couldn't even imagine getting this far on the first day, but now it feels like I could cruise through to the end. It's getting easier to drink the lemonade, I think the cayenne pepper has burned out all sensation down my throat. I'm actually feeling quite good. Don't feel tired, not really hungry and I can still get through my days, even kali class.

Of course, this weekend is packed with invites for parties and dinners and bbqs. People asked why I started the diet on a weekend. I said because there's always something going on and I wasn't sure how much energy I'd have. I am looking forward to getting off the diet.

While being on the diet, you come to think just about any "diet" with food is great. Vegetarianism, fine! Vegan, Fabulous! Raw Food, spectacular! You start to imagine that doing any of these diets seems easy. D, who never ate sushi, is even thinking about trying sushi. So long as it involves solid foods, and more than 3 items, then it's easy. Before I used to think, wow, how can anyone really do that?

I stopped by my mother's work to pick up some paperwork I needed for a house I'm buying in Vegas (and will soon be selling...more on that in another post). I haven't told my mother I'm on this diet. I don't want to freak them out. Before I left, she sliced some ube ensymada from Laurie's in LA in half and gave it to me. I guess the SO will get ensymada tonight. I took very deep inhales through the paper napkin.

There are five more days to go, then 4 days to wean my way back to more solid food. It's all downhill from here. Let's hope.

journey to pampanga

One of my client's at work is in Pampanga as part of an Ayala Foundation trip. He's in the MFA program at SF state. They were initially looking for younger undergrad folks to go, but they made an exception for them. He's working for an NGO with the Aetas in Pampanga. He's there for 6 weeks. Check out the Katipunero.

If you really want to flashback...

OK Ver, if you really want to flash back, you could do this to your ipod.

entering blogland

Whoo-hoo! Rona has entered blogdom, the addicting pseudo-intimate, partially fictionalized electronic cathartic eraseable white board we are all a part of.

Her intro has a kind of feng shui metaphor to it:

"I am a writer--of fiction, poetry, non-fiction, mindless wandering blabber, pseudo-psycho-self-help blither, grant proposals and random postcards to friends--hence my need to post my words on this blog so that I can clear them out of my head where they have been accumulating like yellow post-it notes gone amok,and heaps of dirty laundry sitting in my bedroom, and disheveled stacks of papers in my in-box. All these words have been crying, "Let me out! Write me down! Expose me to the curious and prying eyes of strangers!" And thus, I must relent.

I hope you enjoy my words and I hope you enjoy Life. Happiness is elusive but it does exist.

"So, enjoy!"---Hyman Roth in The Godfather Part II"

And so it begins...

First thing to drink in the morning salt water made with uniodized salt to clear the system. 1 quart. This actually wasn't so hard, it was the volume of liquid to get through. I drank 3/4.

I calculated 8 times the lemonade recipe to create 80 oz of the stuff, which meant 16 tablespoons each of maple syrup and lemon juice. I had no idea how much 16 tablespoons of anything was. Apparently, it's one bottle of maple syrup. OK, no wonder people can go through their day, it is nearly 3 times your carbohydrate intake on a normal 2000 calorie day. The nice part too is that you get more than enough of your daily requirements of calcium and magnesium and while brewing mint tea in iron kettles, I should have a good deal of my neccessary minerals. I really shouldn't call it a fast considering how much sugar that is. The kicker is the near teaspoon of cayenne pepper that gives it it's iced tea look.

But the real test, this morning we went to farmer's market with A, who cooked a not-from-the-box pancake breakfast. Now A is absolutely a fine fine cook and I had to simple enjoy the smell of not-from-the-box pancakes. I'll have to take a raincheck and get the recipe later. The fiance (ooh look, I get to really call the SO my fee-ahn-say) always willing to put his body on the line exclaimed that he would eat for the both of us.

"A" introduced us to the woman at the Vallejo farmer's market who sold handmade longganisa and baby bangus marinated the Illokano way. But alas, Seafood City, with its styrofoam/plastic wrapped convenince killed her bottomline and she could no longer be found on Georgia St. Thus, the idea came to "A", maybe she moved to another farmer's market where Filipinos would appreciate and purchase her wares. Thus today's bangus hunting trip to Fremont Farmer's Market. "A" had tried Union City last week but no luck.

All the while I'm lugging this plastic pitcher of the lemonade. Everytime I feel hungry, I take a couple of sips of the lemonade. Then as the cayenne pepper burns my throat, I decide I'm not hungry afterall. It's quite the appetite suppressant.

Fremont farmer's is not as big as we thought, only a dozen stands, which of course includes the organic Filipino farm of Ibarra-Cruz. Let me tell you they must have everyone in their family working the farmer's markets: cousins, aunties, nieces, cuz they are in just about EVERY farmer's market I have ever gone to in the Bay Area from Vallejo to Fremont. But alas, no baby bangus.

On the way back we hit up San Leandro farmer's market where some of the best balut is found (both chicken and duck). No more than 10 days old. So no need to worry about seeing a beak or feathers. Sigh. Summer is the peak of fresh fruit: strawberries, blueberries, nectarines, peaches, apricots, cantaloupe, watermelon. Truly my favorite food group. The egg farmer is from Pangasinan and knew Macaraegs from my parent's town. I'm sure if I went back enough, we'd be related. He's from Rosales. His wife used to tend with him, but since she has passed you can see in his eyes, it's just not the same. He's considering selling the business and retiring.

I help "A" pick cantaloupe for his wife, "H." It's fragrence permeates the skin. The SO asks about whether I would like to have some. He forgets I started the diet. It seemed like a bad day to start a diet, then again, I don't know if there's any day that would be good. I buy a couple of bunches of sunflowers and we head back. We leave A & H with a bag full of their organic lemons to hold me over for a few more days.

We drive around Berkeley doing errands. Finding the SO (fiance is 4 more letters to type), a papyrus plant for his office, we stop by East Bay Nursery. The people in this place know just about every type of plant you could ever want just by you describing the leaves in your not so garden vocabulary way. I pick up some bamboo to plant in the herb box where herbs don't do so well.

Up and down San Pablo, you start to notice all the restaurants and food stores: bbq, burger king, thai, indian halal market. The fiance and I had some very delicious vegetarian meals this week. Just yesterday, I would highly recommend Indian Palace in Alameda on Buena Vista near Constitution. They spice food to your liking and even then in the mild range, food is very flavorful.

It's funny, when I'm at work, I hardly think about food, and sometimes I forget about eating. But now, now that my list of consumables is down to 4 things: water, lemonade, salt water, and mint tea, I find myself preoccupied by the memory of food. I look at food cans and store signs and imagine their textures and how it might combine with other dishes.

By mid-day, my tongue is feeling a bit pasty, which the book said might happen. When we get home I brush my teeth. And can I tell you, I don't think I've ever enjoyed the flavor of toothpaste so much before. I even resisted the lemonade a few more minutes just so I could experience this different flavor a bit longer.

What I realized is that I'm not into simply consuming food, the way some people like eating, but I like tasting just enough to satisfy curiosity and to give my brain a different sensation. At the Indian restaurant, I picked the Thali dinner just because it allowed me to taste 5-6 different dishes as opposed to only choosing 1-2 larger dishes. I'm sure in a a couple of more days, hunger will win over boredom. Today, I look at the lemonade and still think, "I'm not THAT hungry."

water water everywhere

So, I'm going to start a Master Cleanse Lemonade Diet/Fast on Saturday. My friend, D, will be my partner-in-crime peer pressure influence. For years I had heard of different fasts, (water, juice, etc), but they seemed kind of scary. But, based on the SO's biology knowledge of food and sugar processes in the body, this lemonade diet seems to allow the body to rejuvenate itself without actually starving.

The diet requires 10 days of a specifically made lemonade, made with maple syrup and a dash of cayenne pepper, about 8 cups a day, plus any additional water or mint tea you may also want to enjoy. In the meantime, your body takes a break from breaking down fats, proteins and processed foods, and helps clear out the system and all 30 some odd feet of your intestinal tract.

My interest in a fast is one of exploration. I'm always down for trying something new or at least to try something once just to see, both for the experience and just to see if I can do it.

My friends who have gone on it before say you have enough energy to get through your regular day. The only drawback is that you get sick and bored of drinking the same thing. They even say they come out really energized.

D is fortunate enough to be able to hide out in her abode. The closer I get to the diet days every email seems to bring on additional opportunties for wonderful food. For instance, a friend invited us to sunday brunch, while another exquisite cook offered a pancake breakfast the first day of the fast. And on a daily basis I walk down Telegraph in Berkeley past Indian, Chinese, Thai, Pizza, Italian, Mexican restaurants, so this will be an interesting challenge. The other day I thought, I'm going to miss eating bread. Grant it, I'm only really giving it up for a week, but I still had this fondness for the food.

It's also interesting to see how many of my interactions are based around a meal. Being Filipino, food is the crux of many relationships. To refuse any food, any baon leftover, is an afront. Perhaps it's not so much the food itself, but how food and good food reinforces the relationships. Tells the brain, this person you share a meal with is also nourishment. So, I've had to politely explain and postpone various eating engagements. For the most part, the friends I have are what I call "good food" people. People who enjoy flavor and smells and satisfying meals.

Our minimum goal is at least 5 days, but we're striving for the full ten. I'll just be happy if I can get through the weekend.

Ching-In's Last Mango Mic

Ching-In has been the driving force of Mango Mic, originally Asian American Open Mic, that settled on a home at Pusod a couple of years ago. But alas, Boston is calling her home as she takes a position with the organization that sparked her spirit so long ago. Mango Mic/Asian American Open Mic has been voted best Open Mic by Asian Week and by East Bay Express. A large part of that is due to the exquisite host of the Mango Mic evening, Ching-In.

: Ching-In's last Mango Mic ::

Saturday, July 10th
 8-11pm @ Pusod


 Come say goodbye to Mango Mic's host this
 Saturday with a poem, song, rant, rave, or film!


featuring


the band Tensegrity Nine


About the artists:

Tensegrity Nine is the Oakland, CA-based electronic pop duo of Peter Lim and Matt Payne. Peter sits at home next to the rain-drenched windows and writes the words, while Matt bangs on the electronic instruments with a bit more precision than a 2-year old on a fischer price piano. Blending J-pop, acoustic rock, hip hop, experimental noise, children's spiritual, and spoken word poetry, Tensegrity Nine has become locally known as an "anti-genre" band for the new millennium. Their live musical performance is an energetic, humorous, and sometimes poignantly poetic experience that usually involves many, if not all, of the following components: bright flashing lights, Usher-style dancing, banter in Japanese, and yes, even playing music.

 For more info, visit www.revolutionaryidentity.co.nr


Please e-mail aaopenmic@yahoo.com for more info!

it's (officially) on

Well, after that she said, “Yes!”
Yes to the opening in the sky
After that she said, “Yes!”
Yes to the laughter of the birds
After that she said, “Yes!”
Yes to the question of the sun.

-From “Before their Words: a Queer retelling of Sondayo and the Wind Goddess”
Maiana Minahal

a grassy mesa. by the clock tower, quarter past sunset. summer fog rolling in. paint splattered blanket. a picnic overlooking the sea. nectarines, bread, grapes, cheese. hungry dogs searching for snacks. the strum of classical guitar. “It had to be you…wonderful you…it had to be you.” box step and twirl. twelve red roses. A blue box as deep as the ocean carrying the darkest pearl. The Question.

posts that never make it

Been meaning to post lately, but have been plagued with bad internet connections that crash out my system before I can hit "publish post." Of course, I could "save as draft" but frankly I never really go back to said drafts because I can never get back into the moment of the thought. There have also been a couple of others that I actually wrote out, then erased because the thoughts haven't quite coalesced yet.

For instance, I wanted to write a post about Filipino dining and reading habits. There's something about the colonized self-view that keeps Filipinos from reading ourselves. Again, this thought process hasn't quite blossumed yet.

Or the post on way too many weddings this year on people's reasons and ways they are taking the plunge (I swear that post will be most interesting than what's fashionable this wedding season and awful bridesmaid's dresses.

Then there's the one about my car being in the shop. Another what cars symbolize in our lives post.

But I suppose most of that will take a back burner, because end of next week, I'm starting the "Master Cleanse" diet, aka Lemonade Diet. Doing it together with a friend. You know peer pressure is good. OK, people who have seen me are like, "what the f**k are you doing on a diet?"

First off, I'm not doing it to lose weight. I don't even own a scale. And based on the readings when I got to my parent's house, my weight doesn't fluxuate that much, plus or minus 5 pounds off my standard weight.

Anyway, I've always wanted to do a fast, but I think water-only is a bit extreme and I didn't want to go bankrupt going to jamba juice doing for a juice fast. Plus, I heard good things from friends who had done this diet. You can google it and find out the exact details. The gist is that you drink lemonade (specifically made with maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and fresh lemons) for 10 days, then wean yourself back to solid foods. In the meantime, you do still get enough sugar and nutrients from the lemonade to go about your day, while your body (liver, kidneys, etc) get a break from all the meats and processed food you dump into your system which gives your digestive system time to get rid of stuff that's been sitting around. (I won't go into those gory details for now.)

The way we calculate it, it will take 2 weeks to get into and out of the diet. You can't just overload your system with a Big Mac after the fast, you have to get out slowly. And so, to keep the peer pressure, my friend and I said we would blog of the experience. I think it will be interesting. I'm a food person, so it will be interesting to step back and see how much food affects my every day life. Some friends who have tried it said it was life altering. One of them became vegetarian, while another didn't, she's limited her meat intake. I mean, as a Filipino, how much of our lives is about and around food?

It's really about giving your body a break and thinking about what we do to our bodies. Plus people tell me, with all that liquid being consumed, your skin looks absolutely fabulous! I'll let you know!

kinda cool, kinda scary

check out satellite pictures of your house. many images are about 2 years old, but are quite detailed including seeing your car parked in the driveway.

when medium is mild

I'm in the suburban south bay where there is nothing really "walkable" and the medium salsa at Baja Fresh is really mild. I think they mean medium "flavor" has opposed to heat. It's a nice break from the campus. I imagine what my life would have been like if I picked a more "corporate" life. Being a techie, the clothing doesn't change much. Jeans, t-shirt are standard geek fashion.

Tie Quan Yin green tea keeps me awake, never goes bitter no matter how much hot water you pour. Quan Yin always watching out for me.

yeah, that'll solve our problems

I got the following as a "sarcastic, witty" joke from a friend who's brother serves in the military (but is not in Iraq). I know it was sent "in jest," but I don't find it too funny. I post it for the "Peace Activists," because if this is how we are truly being viewed, then the message is not really getting through.

I don't really have a problem with conflict and struggle. I do have a problem with the "reasons" we entered this war and how we are supposed to get out of it. Did we meet our goal of making the world a "safer" place? And have we even helped in "creating" more terrorists?

"With all of this talk of impending war, many of us will encounter "Peace Activists" who will try and convince us that we must refrain from retaliating against the ones who terrorized us all on September 11, 2001.

These activists may be alone or in a gathering, most of us don't know how to react to them. When you come upon one of these people, or one of their rallies, here are the proper

Rules of Etiquette:

1. Listen politely while this person explains their views. Strike up a conversation if necessary and look very interested in their ideas. They will tell you how revenge is immoral, and that by attacking the people who did this to us, we will only bring on more violence. They will probably use many arguments, ranging from political to religious to humanitarian.

2. In the middle of their remarks, without any warning, punch them in the nose.

3. When the person gets up off the ground, they will be very angry and they may try to hit you, so be careful.

4. Very quickly and calmly remind the person that violence only brings about more violence and remind them of their stand on this matter. Tell them if they are really committed to a non-violent approach to undeserved attacks, they will turn the other cheek and negotiate a solution. Tell them they must lead by example if they really believe what they are saying.

5. Most of them will think for a moment and then agree that you are correct.

6. As soon as they do that, hit them again. Only this time hit them much harder. Square in the nose.

7. Repeat steps 2-5 until the desired results are obtained and the idiot realizes how stupid of an argument he/she is making.

There is no difference in an individual attacking an unsuspecting victim or a group of terrorists attacking a nation of people. It is unacceptable and must be dealt with, Perhaps at a high cost. We owe our military a huge debt for what are doing for us and our children. We must support them and our leaders at times like these. We have no choice. We either strike back, VERY HARD, or we will keep getting hit in the nose."

====

Maybe another step in this "scenario" should be, "when you're in a crowd, punch one person in the face and run and hide so they don't know it was you. Now watch as they attempt to punch other people next to them presuming they were the attacker." I suppose the next step to that story would be, "the crowd of people then jump on the person hitting everyone and subdue them, while you simply walk away."

asian american orchestra

Asian American Orchestra is holding a free concert at Oakland Asian Cultural Center July 3 at 2pm to debut "American Rhapsodies." Reservations are recommended. The group includes some of the best Asian Jazz musicians in the area. Asian American Orchestra was nominated for a grammy in 2000 for best large group performance.

trading post

Traded a rattan stick for a small bottle of Arnica ointment one of the other teacher's brews. Been trying it out on a couple of bruises that don't seem to want to go away. It smells a bit like vanilla.

If I hear of any cures for mountain lions and indigestion, I'll let you know.

i've always been into alternate realities

Check out Sidereality

"Poetry is a formalization of the linguistic activity in which everyone is involved all the time, and ideally it should be available to all who feel a need to express themselves in that manner so as to reflect on their imaginative engagement with life. Perhaps that isn't very clear, but if you think of Heidegger's famous dictum, "Man dwells poetically," that indicates that poetry is not primarily a specialized activity, but fundamental to our being at home (or failing to be at home) in the world."

— Barry Schwabsky

the motion of the ocean

movement is in the eyes of the beholder

the phases of the moon

I enjoy going on Jean's site and checking out the phase of the moon.

The questionnaire from the church asks us to give three wedding date preferences. This is the chicken and the egg part of wedding planning, you can't book the reception until you know when the church date is and vice-versa. The other questions make me wish I had attended church more often just so the explanation of why I want a Catholic wedding and why this church would be easier. But so is life.

Right now I'm trying to stay away from learning any more numerology or beliefs as I write down our wedding date preferences. The only superstition to the wedding date that I'm sticking to is the one about how the wedding should be celebrated when the moon is full or waxing (getting bigger). I've read this a few times in several Philippine cultural beliefs around marriage. The symbolism is that of a moon getting full and growing as opposed to the waning moon that diminishes into nothing.

Having had fascinations with the moon and liking the symbolism of starting a marriage with the idea that we are making something full and whole and that life will continue to fill us, it seems like a good omen to set. I find that with many of our preparations for the wedding, it requires us to explain it with a greater meaning, a greater symbol of what we wish for our lives together.

My fear is that I'm going hear of some other tradition or belief and want to use that too, and then have dates conflict, like if we had to calculate our numerologies and birthdates to produce the ideal date. But I'm going to hold to our ground rules, keep it simple and the second one, if it's way too much stress and work for what it's worth, don't do it.

she wouldn't be Imelda if she didn't

Imelda is suing the distributor of "Imelda" the movie to prevent distribution in the Philippines because she said she never agreed that this interview would be shown publicly and that she didn't know Dias would interview people outside of Imelda's cronies (um, people who don't agree with Imelda). If what Imelda says in the movie is true, then this lawsuit is right up her alley. She said constantly that she's all about beauty and that she has an ability to see trash and ugliness and turn her back and walk away. And according to one of the former US officials who were interviewed, "To Imelda, everything is personal."

It'll be interesting to see how that court case ends up. The interview of Imelda is no small thing in the movie. There's some serious length of footage. I mean Imelda gives the crew tours of her home and lets them follow her along the campaign trail then up to Marcos' grave in Ilokos.

Article is at the LA Times, gotta register to find the link to the story.

Is it delusion or denial?

ow, that hurt. Watched "Imelda" again over at Landmark with D. After the movie I kind of felt ill, though I wasn't sure if it was because of sitting in the theater or having enough of Imelda.

I watched it the first time at NAATA, but had to watch it again, just to see if I was dreaming. The juxtaposition of Imelda's own words with film and other interviews has you spun upside down by the end. And you are still left with the question as to whether Imelda is just delusional and in complete denial or whether she is smart enough to consciously know what she's doing and saying? She even writes down her 10 step philosophical symbols for the world which ends up looking like a convoluted mess.

Obviously she continues to be surrounded by "yes" people who affirm every wild imagination she has, to which even her niece laments that that kind of "support" has held her aunt back. Imelda does mention in her own words how she has the ability to see ugliness and trash and turn her back to it, an ability to block out the reality she does not wish to see.

Chatting with D afterwards, I come to realize that this ability to live in denial of the harshness or reality of the world is not unique to Imelda and that in many ways it's how many Filipinos survive their circumstances.

What I cannot deny is that Imelda certainly knows how to work the charm. She knows how to disarm a person with sweet talk and joking manner that somehow lulls people from Khadafi to Castro to Carter to Kissinger.

Now the next question is, ok so what if Imelda is living in her dream world where the wax "encasing" Ferdinand is an image of him 20 years ago, along with the picture of herself that she distributes, what about her kids? Are Bong-Bong and Imee passing themselves off as "innocents" since they were children? How can they possibly ignore the amount of human rights abuses? And what of Irene? Where has she gone?

I have seen an interview with a Marcos grandson who feels like what his grandparents did was a long time ago and that he was not born so he has no responsibility to that. Which of course, is an easy answer when he's living the high life from all the money his grandparents stole.

So, even at the end of the movie, after listening to Imelda talk about herself in her own words and the words of dozens of others both inside and out of inner family circle, you are left to question reality itself. How she continues to elude and evade any grain of responsibility to the "ugliness" they created in order to form their version of "beauty," a beauty meant for them alone to witness with the core principle that it's ok, because they represent the Filipino people, and the Filipino people are satisfied by simply living vicariously through them.

Somewhere in the lines and circles she draws to explain her world view, she has lured us into a web. Watch the pretty circles as she falls through the cracks of the justice system and slips out the back door.

well, hell, I've got until I'm 80

OK, various female friends of mine reading this blog, I know we've discussed this notion of going skydiving a few times before. For some reason, although George the first didn't inspire me too much while he was in office, the site of him falling out of a plane to mark his 80th birthday entices me to follow his lead. But, hopefully, well before I'm 80, preferably before 50.

My cousin in Vegas tells me there are some deals out there and that Fall is nice and not so windy. Still have to do some snooping around to find out when the nice calm seasons are for sky diving.

That's what you get for telling me some crazy outrageous idea. There is something inside me that always has to go find out if that crazy outrageous idea is possible and if it is, then finding a way to see it through.

back channel if you're down!

this must be how Achilles must feel

I am told if the car door is left open too long, Achilles will jump in, ready to be taken for a ride.

The SO got a car yesterday. It's his first car. For years, since I had the car, then I did the driving, which wasn't a big deal because I don't mind driving and I got free parking in Berkeley at his apartment. In my family, *I* am the driver. Though my sister and father both drive, they seem to oft prefer that I drive, since I know San Francisco well enough and can get in and out of traffic, plus parallel park in the tightest places.

But, I must say, that now and then I do relish the times when I get to be the passenger. I like getting a chance to watch the scenery, rubberneck the accident on the other side, learn which national landmarks are at the next exit.

Of course, after a person buys a car, you have to go driving. The SO had ideas of taking Highway 1 down to Asilomar, but it was already 4pm and I don't think highway 1 at night would be as enjoyable. Instead we opt for Vallejo and Seafood City. I can't totally doze off while the SO is driving, cuz someone has to give the driving directions.

Besdies, I get to play with every secret compartment and button on the console. I do this on rentals. Open up every compartment, press all the buttons to see what turns on. Cigarette lighters are now more commonly known as AC car plugs and ashtrays are extra. Just about everything is powered. Considering my car was built when "digital" was something for your finger, I'm amazed at the "modern" technology.

We start to think about all the other places we'll be able to go (as if we couldn't or didn't go before): Vallejo's farmer's market, Costco, drives down highway 1, even a road trip to Vegas. We are a car country and have built the notion of "freedom" into our cars.

We stop into a Barong Formal store to give us some ideas for the wedding. Next door is Valerio's where we pick up pan de sal, and ensymada with cheese and ube. Even 20 minutes before closing, the store is packed. Next we meander through Seafood City which looks like a grocery store in the Philippines except that it's in Vallejo, where you can buy dozens of varieties of Creamsilk shampoo and get fish fried. They still have Manila Mangos for $7 a box. We put the groceries in the car, mostly so the SO can practice using the automatic door buttons. By that time the golden light of sunset was striking, so I took a few pictures of SO with the new car. We're Filipino afterall. (Though I have yet to take a picture next to a car that wasn't mine.)

After dinner at Chow King, we head back to Oakland. The SO asks why I'm so quiet. It's mostly because as the passenger, I don't have to think about anything, thus have nothing to say. It was a zen moment. I also enjoyed that I could be the "girl" for once.

Driving is often thought as a masculine thing, particularly amongst Filipinos, and one's manliness being measured by how he could stop the car without having the passengers feel the tug of the stop. Now, grant it, I don't think that driving is all for men, or that the men should always drive. But it is nice to be driven now and then, drop the sun shade and check your face in the vanity mirror while your studly boyfriend takes you home.

World Wide Panorama

Over the Solstice weekend, photographers around the world will take their digital cameras and computers to take Quicktime VR images (360 images of different locations). You can see various images of the world from March 2004 World Wide Panorama event, including one of the Jose Rizal Monument in Luneta by Francisco R. Sevilla.

http://geoimages.berkeley.edu/wwp.html

??????

I imagine question marks tumble over in my aunt's mind.

My cousin, who over the years I've introduced to Bindlestiffs, Manuel Ocampo, and other artistic delights, came to the Kreatibo Show last night. She chose our show over the Philippine Improv troupe at Bindlestiffs. She called just before saying she was going to invite her mother along.

I asked my cousin, "um, ok. Your mother does know that the show is all Queer Pin@ys, right?"

"oh, yeah, I'll tell her."

"um, you do that."

Oh, this is going to be exciting. My family knows that I write and perform. My family doesn't know what I write and perform. Often, I am comforted by their ignorance because I'm not sure they would really understand and it would take a lot of heart to heart discussions with them to understand where I'm coming from and for now, I'm not ready for that.

Anyway, my cousin did ask my aunt, but my aunt was too flustered with trying to get dinner cooked that she declined. But in response to the fact that the show was all Queer Pin@ys, she asks, "Why is your cousin in a show like that?" I imagine her say this with a crinkled forehead, trying to reconcile how someone in a hetero relationship with plans of marriage in said hetero relationship could be included in a Queer Pin@y show. My aunt then wonders why her daughter is going because you know "they" might hit on her.

My cousin and I have a good laugh at this after the show. I'm glad she came. Not often that I have relatives at my shows.

The other weekend, my sister decided to mess with my cousin's husband who seems a bit straight-laced being a very devout Christian. I had missed a gathering due to the Before Their Words show. She told him that I was at a poetry reading and he asked about the kind of poetry I do. So, just to mess with hiim, she told him about my Balut Haikus, that on the surface are actually very tame, but when put into the context of "Eros Pinoy" or "Clit Chat" (the launch we did for Eros) well, the poems take on a different life. She said his normally droopy eyes widened as he put two and two together.

Now, for the record, the poems are created as such that it's not MY dirty mind doing any of the dirty work.

As I said before, Kreatibo is one of the best groups to work with. I came to realize last night that part of this is due to the fact that in many ways the people in the group share alot of similar values and beliefs in terms of doing community cultural work, and allowing people a true freedom of expression to simply be who they are. This allows them to put together some really great work. This show combined various spoken word and poetic pieces with video clips from their trip to the Philippines, exploring what Lolan described at the beginning of the show "what is means to be a Queer Pinay and the different ways of expressing that."

One of the Pin@ys is getting married later this fall. We spoke about what made their relationship work which included a relationship contract, which mediated the rules of engagement in terms of how to deal with the difficulties that came between them. Rules which included never saying, "I'm going to break up with you." and being able to call for a cool off period of 2 hours so you always knew the other person would be coming home. They had many things that couples who have been together for years I've seen come to an understanding with, perhaps not as written as theirs, but to similar understanding. They understood the practical nature of love and committment that sometimes making a relationship work is about agreeing upon who takes care of the cat.

In the adjoining room were pictures of many of the newlyweds from San Francisco City Hall where the group took one of several pictures: "the hard look" "the smiley goofy look" and the "pose like you were a thug in high school look." Many of the pictures surrounding us had smiles of content and relief. Some frames showed photos over the years.

I'm sure my aunt wonders if I'm gay. I'm sure if I didn't have a fiance, she would think I was. There were years where I wasn't sure if I was either. I'm not the most femme hetero. I like to hang out with "the guys" and feel quite comfortable with Queer Pin@ys. What does that make me exactly? But that's the thing about last night's show, it was a journey of falling in love and being in love with oneself however they sought to evoke that.

Walking past the wedding pictures, I stopped by one of Del and Phyllis, two Pinays in Barong Tagalog formals, recently wed. Their sparkle, their joy, their contentment, their relief. I wondered if someone could really "hate" this, then do they really understand the committment of love.

the stacks

Jean writes of the Stacks, as the old section of Doe Library was fondly called. The Stacks were like a huge maze out of some adventure journey game where your goal was to seek out this book treasure. Often there were random small desks with a single light where you might find a student snoozing...er..studying. I often wondered how they made sure every person was out of the building, considering all the nooks and crannies the place had and wondered if there were people who were like the trolls of the library living and hiding amongst the stacks.

The woman who was killed, that Jean mentions, was Grace Asuncion. There is now a scholarship in her name provided by the Pilipino American Alumni Chapter that they will be awarding for the first time this year.

Stopping by that website I noticed this event for November 6:
Elaine Villamin (class of 1996) will conduct a wine tasting event featuring Filipino American-owned vineyards and labels. This event is open to PAAC members the CAA, the Berkeley Community, and the extended Filipino American community.

I will have to put that on the calendar. Can't miss a winetasting event.

Innobatib and sentimental

Will be performing the excerpt known as "stolen kali" from Maiana Minahal's "Before Their Words" Wednesday June 9, 7:30pm at SomARTS (934 Brannan St, SF) as part of the Kreatibo Kollective, that group of innobatib and dazzling Pin@y Queer performers. This show is one of a string of several shows going on since this is Pride Month.

I really enjoy performing with this group. Shows are always entertaining, funny, heartbreaking, and always, always challenging the audience. Plus, they put out some of the most supportive and coolest vibes.

Looking forward to Morningstar's Drag King performance of either "Goody Goody" or "Lonely Teardrops." He says, "Lonely Teardrops" is the sentimental favorite with Filipinos. At a recent nursing home performance, the women were all singing along with him, "Just say you will, just say you will, say you will."

Another group of innobatib performers will be at SomARTS this Friday and Saturday in a show called, M.U.V.E. produced by innobatib devil bunny in bondage, Gigi Otálvaro-Hormillosa. If you want to watch someone who breaks through the bounds of performance and theater, she would be one of the ones to watch. (At the Post Modern Pilipino (POMO) Performance show 2 years ago, she did a piece based on a old photo of a Filipina with a "tail" which stretched into a piece about aliens and a floating robot cloud thing. you had to be there. I was blown away.)

So, be there, at SomARTS this week. Just say you will.

my arteries are clogging up just thinking about it

chocolate covered pork rinds

i don't really go to church but i like this hymn

the song always reminds me of the ones who have gone before me. it's both comforting yet sad.

I will raise you up
And I will raise you up on eagle’s wings;
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His hand.

to face is to feel or finding order in the world

Tuhan, after his mother had passed on, asked the Grandmaster, what's the secret of living, how do you keep going. And the Grandmaster in his wisdom, tells him, "well, you get up in the morning, fix your bed and wash your dishes." So, Tuhan ever the attentive student, tries to do just that, but finds it rather difficult to maintain. He returns to the Grandmaster, who is now sitting with his wife, the results of his experiment. To which, the Grandmaster's wife replies, "he told you that?! HE doesn't do any of those things. *I* make the bed. *I* wash the dishes." Suffice it to say, if you can't do it, find someone who can or at least help you in doing those things.

I didn't use to make my bed. Actually, I never made my bed on a regular basis, even as a kid. I never thought the need to, considering I lived alone and was the only one to sleep in it. But because we got a new bed and because of everything that's been going on these past couple of weeks, I've had this need and desire to fix the bed. I cannot leave the house without fixing the bed. It's a strange sensation. I think it helps with the psychic fatigue and actually quite relaxing.

Over the past few days I've figured out how far to pull each of the sheets to make sure they are even on each side, how to pull the sheets fairly taut, enough so the blanket is smooth. Then toss each of the pillows back in its place and admire my work. Then when I head to bed that evening, there's something affirming when returning to a bed that is still as orderly as I had left it in the morning.

There are lessons in making one's bed, the way there are lessons in ironing as a ritual. I can't really list them here, I'm just learning what they are myself. My instinct tells me it has something to do with discipline and taking care of oneself and things that support you, to cultivate places of rest and rejuvenation, but i'm not really sure. Right now it's just something to keep me going.

i watched harry potter so...

I went to find out what mythological creature I am:


You're like a Unicorn!


?? Which Mythical Creature Are You ??
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