which famous leader are you?

great, and the test said the more questions I answer the more accurate it is.

What Famous Leader Are You?

it's 1am, perfect time to take a personality test

Advanced Big 30 Personality Test Results Sociability ||||||||||||||| 42% Gregariousness ||||||||||||||| 42% Assertiveness ||||||||||||||||||||| 66% Activity Level |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78% Excitement-Seeking ||||||||||||||| 46% Enthusiasm |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78% Extroversion |||||||||||||||||| 58% Trust |||||||||||||||||||||||| 74% Morality |||||||||||||||||| 54% Altruism ||||||||||||||||||||| 66% Cooperation ||||||||||||||||||||| 70% Modesty ||||||||||||||| 42% Sympathy |||||||||||||||||| 54% Friendliness |||||||||||||||||| 60% Confidence |||||||||||||||||||||||| 74% Neatness |||||| 18% Dutifulness ||||||||||||||||||||| 66% Achievement |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78% Self-Discipline |||||||||||||||||| 54% Cautiousness ||||||||||||||||||||| 62% Orderliness |||||||||||||||||| 58% Anxiety ||||||||||||||| 42% Volatility |||||| 14% Depression ||||||||| 30% Self-Consciousness |||||||||||| 34% Impulsiveness ||||||||||||||| 42% Vulnerability |||||||||||| 34% Emotional Stability ||||||||||||||||||||| 68% Imagination |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78% Artistic Interests |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86% Emotionality |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90% Adventurousness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78% Intellect ||||||||||||||||||||| 70% Liberalism ||||||||||||||||||||| 70% Openmindedness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78%

Take Free Advanced Big 30 Personality Test

Joys and dramas on Friendster

I often thought putting your life out on Friendster bulliten boards was well, um a little too out there. Then again, I'm blogging for everyone to see. go figure. But once in a while I check Friendster to find out a friend of mine and his long time partner have gotten married. I'm a romantic, I felt my cheeks blush and my grin widen at that bulliten board post. Though I know legally, it may not do them much good. I'm happy they made this public declaration of life-long committment to each other.

Anyway, been scanning pictures of the same-sex weddings in SF looking for people I know. I believe in love. I also believe in economic fairness and justice in our laws. This is why I believe in same-sex marriages.

What I find funny with the anti-same-sex marriage folks is how they talk about how this demeans marriage. Um...so what are they doing about the 50+% divorce rate if they're so big on marriage? I would think that they would be happy that people were making life long committments to each other at all! My co-worker feels like "this is the one thing we get to have." I supposed his "we" meant "hetero" people. Somehow I didn't want to be a part of that "we."

They say, hey, there's domestic partnership, isn't that good enough? Well, not when we're talking inheritance, or immigration status (family reunification), and parental rights. That's like saying "hey, there's a water fountain over there, isn't that good enough?" While my co-worker thinks that having prejudice for someone's skin color is superficial and not something to discriminate against, he doesn't see it as the same as the gender preference issue.

I watched a PBS show about the generational economic implications of HUD and the GI bill and how the system of appraising and loan valuation and it's implicit discrimination continues the economic disparities that occur today. The GI Bill after WWII gave returning vets the ability to get long term low interest loans that allowed them to purchase homes. The standard 30-year, 6% APR, 20% down kind of common day thing we know today. Prior to that in order to buy a home, people had to come up with 50% down. Can you imagine putting 50% down on a home just to get one? This is why people lived densely in the cities. Only the very rich or someone frugal for 30 years could buy a home.

The GI Bill changed that and essentially created the push for suburbs. There were a lot of GIs out there.

The problem comes in when they created the rules that determined who/where/what loans were given. The law that created these friendly loan terms also stated that it be best that neighborhoods not be diverse, because diversity would create disharmony in a community and strife thus lowering the value of homes. (ie keep the neighborhood all white) Thus, African American GIs who wanted to purchase homes in the same areas as the other veterans were dissuaded from buying in what was built as exclusive neighborhoods. They had to purchase their homes in other areas. If they were given the opportunity to purchase in predominantly white neighborhoods where the housing prices were good, their mere presence brought the housing prices down.

"White Flight" is the percieved notion that the presence of non-white families in the neighborhood would bring housing values down and those wanting to capitalize on their investments better sell early rather than later. It's not that they didn't like non-white families, but it was economically written into law that non-white neighborhoods held greater lending risks.

With the various equal rights amendments, the opportunity to economic viability was opened. Real estate people can't refuse a buyer based on race. But by then it was too late, the economic disparity was set. White families had houses that appreciated in value, while African American and Latino neighborhoods decreased in value. The family home is the number 1 investment nestegg. People leverage their homes to pay for their children's college educations, to make additional investments, and to assist their children in buying their own homes.

HUD also created Public Housing, which demolished the neighborhood homes in exchange for high rise apartment dwellings which are an overwhelming crisis for urban cities and for the generations trapped in the projects.

Today of course, neighborhoods are often quite diverse. Filipinos live in half a million dollar homes in Daly City. The opportunities to property investment are open. But it will take many generations to reverse the damage of the inequality set 50 years ago.

The show gave me a different view in understanding "urban gentrification" and the attempts to reverse what is known as "white flight." I also came to realize that economic injustice multiplies quickly and economic injustice perpetuated by the government is a plague.

This is the irony is it not? We claim that diversity and including the "other" is what makes this nation strong. Yet laws on the books say that being the "other" is detrimental to the core fabric of this country.

But how did I get to here from same-sex marriages? I think my overall statement is the belief that people need to be allowed to invest in their lives and in the people they love. And that the government only allows some people to do that. To build a nation based on "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" and only allow some of the people to do this is a crime.

st patrick rosal at 21 Grand

So me and Tatang just slid into the door at 21 Grand (which is really at 449 23rd St) just as Patrick finished off his last poem about how his father gave him a saint's name.

It was a lovely end to a long day with an afternoon in Union City, followed by a trip to the parentals to have cake (which was Marie Callandar's pie). My mother lures her adult children home by baiting them with food. It still works. By the time we leave we often have a bag full of food and clothing, which my mom picks up because 1) it was on sale, and 2) she thought it would fit us (note: not that we would wear it, only that it would fit). We share family gossip about my younger cousin planning a wedding the same year as us, but fearing the family will choose to go to our wedding as opposed to theirs. My father, ever the accountant, advises, just invite them, if they come great, but if they don't come, it's one less dinner to pay for.

We talk about how other couples go to Hawaii to avoid the family political seating arena. Hawaii the happy medium. Though the Philippines would be just as far and quite inexpensive to do it there. As my older cousin said when he got married, "the Philippines is cheap, but the presents are better here."

So, after a slice of the double lemonade pie, and bag of goodies from mom and dad's, we locate 21 Grand next to an accordian shop, filled floor to ceiling with various accordian models, begging the window shoppers to come in for just one squeeze. I had a friend who learned accordian, not many in my generation do. When she played with Bobby Banduria, she took up the accordian again, but played topless, the accordian providing the delicate cover.

The location at 449 23rd is bigger than the 21 Grand spot. I've always wanted a place like this some day so I can hold kali classes, poetry readings and art galleries.

Here, the saintly named poets, filled the air through a rhythm and visual landscape of words. Patrick's finger conducting the music and perhaps also our attention. Something that Rupert from Proletariat Bronze refers to as "slam hands." Barbara and I giggle in the car, put on our German accented psycho analysis voices, "Ze patient iz eczibitink a form of zslam handz. Ze words take over the body in an uncontrollable state. Zis may also contribute to ze occurence of zslam feets."

I run into another friend at the reading. He cuts out in search for Tupperware. His family has folks over and they need Tupperware for all the food. And the ziploc disposable containers will not do. He must find Tupperware somewhere at 9pm on a Sunday night. Talk about near impossible task. Only brand name will do. Since Target closes at 9, we point him to the 24-hour WalMart in Union City, which is far since his family is in Concord, but I'm shore he'll enjoy the quiet time in the car.

Afterwards it's off to Pacific Coast Brewery for drinks. Cafe Van Kleef the haunted bar with the Jesus statue in roses was closed. Well, it was a Sunday evening.

We hang out with the saintly poets for a few pints along with Patrick's friends who recently moved here from Philadelphia. We talk about how the internet is a strange thing, how it helps to bring people from the coasts together in a strange odd community of sorts. We discuss various Filipino traits of how our dad's and uncles know someone with every Filipino last name. Patrick had the accent and the learn back with the cross-legs to a tee. And how the act of thievery is common for Filipinos, but Filipinos simply refer to it as "borrowing." "oh you know, I like that. I borrow it from you." We discussed various poets we regularly stole...um borrowed from.

Having work the next day, or like Patrick's friend, at 11pm at Alta Bates Hospital, we call it a night early with plans to hook up again when we find ourselves on the same coast again.

downward dog is a bitch

I'm on the lookout for a yoga class that both fits my novice abilities and time schedule. In the meantime, I picked up a dvd of 20 minute sets to do for the morning and evening.

I can't touch my toes with my legs straight, back problems that led to hamstring problems most of the my life. But that's the goal this year is to be able to touch my toes without bending my knees. Having a desk job for the last 5 years doesn't help much either.

Fortunately, a lot of the kali can be done without the need of touching ones toes or doing some crazy jump kick flip.

My upper body on the other hand is amazingly limber. I can do that pose where one places your hands like in prayer behind your back between your shoulder blades, not a problem.

I use my old judo yellow belt to help me reach my toes while keeping my upper body in alignment. I get a tingly sensation in my feet, my hamstrings like taught thick ropes. I wonder if the tingly sensation is simply because I don't really feel a whole lot in my feet in general as they are apt to be the first extremity to become cold. And the tingly sensation is my feet being overwhelmed by data.

Downward dog is by far one of the hardest poses (that upsidedown V shaped pose), even with foam bricks and mat for support. It's like tug-o-war with my own body.

I don't really push the poses. I try to keep as much alighnment in my body as I can, but only push the stretch til I'm uncomfortable as opposed to excruciating pain. I figure bit by bit I'll creep that much closer to my toes. My hips will release, the ropes in my legs will untie themselves. Each time I do it, I find another tiny adjustment to make that makes it that much easier.

The yoga certainly makes me that much more aware of my body. And it does make me feel good. (though I think partly that's due to being relieved of the pain) I actually feel taller and more open. Hopefully, I can find an actual class that I can attend.

In the meantime, I'll be bitching about my body refuses to do downward dog.

trade a pair of flippers for a pair of wings?


You are one of the few out there whose wings are
truly ANGELIC. Selfless, powerful, and
divine, you are one blessed with a certain
cosmic grace. You are unequalled in
peacefulness, love, and beauty. As a Being of
Light your wings are massive and a soft white
or silver. Countless feathers grace them and
radiate the light within you for all the world
to see. You are a defender, protector, and
caretaker. Comforter of the weak and forgiver
of the wrong, chances are you are taken
advantage of once in awhile, maybe quite often.
But your innocence and wisdom sees the good in
everyone and so this mistreatment does not make
you colder. Merciful to the extreme, you will
try to help misguided souls find themselves and
peace. However not all Angelics allow
themselves to be gotten the better of - the
Seraphim for example will be driven to fighting
for the sake of Justice and protection of those
less powerful. Congratulations - and don't ever
change - the world needs more people like you.


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

The nightjar does it again

Yet another wonderfully informative website from Jean, Filipino Music early 20th Century.

musing in the rain

Chatelaine finds herself swimming in the rain and wondering what it's like to swim under the water in the rain.

When I was learning to scuba dive in Camiguin, Mindanao, Philippines, it rained on one of the days we were to go diving. I wondered while eating breakfast if that would be a problem for scuba diving.

My teacher, a German-Bavarian man, said rainy days are the best days to scuba, because 1) you're already wet (or as he said it "yurr alveddy vet") and 2) you can enjoy being vet...um wet. He was right. Although, the rain and wind can wreck havoc on the boat that takes you there. The waves were fairly choppy, but once under the water, the wind, the breaks of waves had no meaning.

These tiny drops of water that seem so bothersome above land are merely drops to the vast ocean easily swallowed. It's a bit harder to see underwater when it's raining simply because there isn't as much sunlight to penetrate below, so the distances one can see are quite shortened. Underwater, I had forgotten the gloomy weather, the brown outs, the chill of air on water. The deeper we went, the smaller the outline of our bouncing boat anchored with one line to keep from smashing upon the rocks.

The scuba gear that had burdened my steps in air, barely registered on my muscles. It's like flying. Like the sea turtle we saw swimming away from us. Manong Pawikan didn't seem to even notice that the surface rippled from the wind and waves.

priceless

Nick Carbo attempting to imitate John Wayne....priceless! so random! oh yeah, he reads a few of his poems too.

slurping clouds on a rainy day

I needed to go to Vallejo to pick up some martial arts equipment. And found myself at the new Seafood City Mall there on Redwood St and Hwy 29. There's a huge Seafood City that caters to just about every Filipino food product you could ever need, Tatak Filipino, Barong Tagalog store, Max's Fried Chicken (which I hear isn't as good as the original), Valerio's, whose bread items from ensymada to pan de sal send me into bliss, and Chow King. Vallejo's own black box theater, Fetterly Playhouse, is right around the back side too.

I'd never been to Chow King, a Chinese food chain restaurant that swings to Filipino taste. The line was long. The menu is full of noodle soups, fried rice, fried noodle and dimsum. Compared to Oakland's Chinatown, it isn't much of a selection. Then you get to the drinks section which includes Thai Iced Tea, Halo halo, sago't gulaman, AND Taho with Sago.

Now Tatang and I have been searching for proper Taho, for those of you unfamiliar is very soft tofu warmed with a light sweet syrup and sago. In the Philippines, you may find yourself waking up to the sound of the Taho man chanting, "tahooooooooooooo, Ta-hhhhoooooooooO!" And you follow the cry of the Taho man perhaps still in your pajamas just so you can get a warm swig of the smooth conconction that he carries in two metal containers balanced on a wooden rod across his neck and shoulders.

Most of the taho that we've found thus far was either way too sweet, or the Chinese kind that had ginger in it. I don't mind ginger, I just don't want it in my taho. But here it was at Chow King, staying warm in a rice cooker, with its very own attendant scooping out the excess water.

They give you a 16 oz glass of it with a layer of the brown syrup in the bottom and the tofu floating like white clouds at the top, still hot! It's not so much the actual taste that's delectable, but I think for me it's the sensation of it going down your throat all warm and smooth, similar to hot chocolate.

So if you're in the mood for some mighty good taho, head to Chow King at the Seafood City Plaza in Vallejo. From the south, take 80 east to Sacramento/Vallejo. Exit Redwood St West. Right at the exit, right at the light to get onto Redwood. Follow it all the way down to Sonoma Blvd/Hwy 29. It'll be on the left side just past the intersection.

From points north of Vallejo, take Hwy 29 south. Past Marine World Parkway, hang a right on Redwood St. The plaza is on the corner of Sonoma Blvd/Hwy 29 and Redwood St.

For the love of adobo

Nothing better than deliciously spending Valentine's day with people cooking for you. The po(e)tluck was more potluck than poetry, but it didn't matter.

Tatang braved boiling oil bringing some scrumptious lechon kawali. [Recipe: boil pork in salt water, then deep fry] Perhaps the day should have been called "for the love of taro" with two dishes swimming with fragrant taro leaves. Barbara cooked up her Bicolano version of Laing, though she swears she doesn't have a lick of Bicolano in her Illocano self. [Ingredients: dried taro leaves, 2 cans coconut milk, ginger, garlic, onion, couple of jalapenos, shrimp, and a healthy dose of alamang] I prepared the other Taro dish, mongo, as we took over the kitchen at Pusod. [Ingredients: mong beans, tomatos, garlic, onions, taro leaves]

Jean brought the one and only adobo dish with chicken and lamb, with a touch of tumeric the way her mom used to make it. I with my nose hadn't been so stuffed up to take a whiff of the bayleaves, soy sauce, and tumeric.

It ended up being a bit of a family day for me with my sister and brother both attending. My brother had just driven up from UCLA the night before and had heard about the free grub. My sister brought a dessert, I think it's called, mochiko. [Ingredients: rice flour, butter, sugar, jackfruit (there are a few ingredients I forget)] In any case, we noted that the prized corners of the baked dish were conveniently missing from the tupperware. The corners so covetted for their crisply browned edges carmalized with the sugar.

I had always thought that Filipino food was difficult to make. Well certainly, pancit and lumpia can be quite complex, but really alot of the other stuff is ridiculously easy with the instructions more like chop and dump into a pot for 20 minutes and let the ingredients do their magic. Maybe I thought it was all the more complicated because in the Philippines I would watch the entire process from gathering the actual ingredients (ie the killing of the meat).

The event had a double meaning. It was also to launch the call for submissions for a Pinoy Food Lit Anthology:

Filipino Food Anthology Submission Guidelines

As expatriates, migrants, settlers in a world that insists upon our Westernization, we lose so much. Our language goes, economics necessitates the breakdown of our family structures, and many of our cultural foundations break down.

Increased urbanization has altered our living patterns and our palettes. But what remains, unswervingly, are our memories of food. Properly and lovingly prepared, linked to rituals, a sense of community, geography. Food brings us back to ourselves.

Submission guidelines:

-Up to 3 poems, short story, and/or other fictional work.

-Each piece must make mention to or be inspired by at least one Filipino dish. For example, green mango shake would be considered a dish, but mangoes would not.

-Included with the submission should be a recipe for the referenced and inspiring dish(es). If all pieces refer to only one dish, then one recipe may be submitted. Author may choose which recipe to submit if multiple dishes are mentioned in one piece.

Example: If all pieces refer to kare-kare, then one recipe for kare-kare should be submitted. If the 3 pieces submitted refer separately to adobo, laing, and kaldereta respectively, then a recipe for each of these dishes should be included.

-Literary work may have been previously published. However recipes may not have been previously published.

-Author of literary work and recipe may be different.

-Author of literary work should have gotten permission from recipe author for inclusion in anthology.

-Cover letter should include: short contributor's bio(s), titles of pieces, list of recipe(s), and contact info (name, address, and email or phone #)

Send cover letter with 2 copies of literary work and recipes to:

The Filipino Food Anthology
c/o Barbara Reyes
1461 alice street #205
Oakland CA 94612

OR

Emailed in the body of the message (no attachments) to:

pagkainbook@yahoo.com

DEADLINE: December 25, 2004

Do not send originals. Submissions will not be returned. Questions may be sent to pagkainbook@yahoo.com.


-----

My greater aspiration for the event was the hopes that it would inspire other people to throw their own "For the love of adobo" gatherings. Hard to go wrong with food, creativity and community. I was watching a PBS story where this woman had Wednesday food gatherings with her artist friends and would document the dinners as part of social gathering as art and performance.

A friend of mine who is an incredible cook and whose bibingka has become legendary in Pinoy community circles, always said he cooks because he is creatively stifled. Yet standing over bubbling pots, the smell of garlic still in my fingertips, you could easily see how pen and ink translates to pots and spices.

a valentine's txt greeting

from a friend:
Valentine blessings! For all those who have cared about me, gratitude. Where I was disappointed, let it go. Where I've disappointed others, work to be better.

I love my Mac: a Valentine's post

I no longer have a life, I have an iLife. Yesiree, I've bought into the marketing hype that is Apple and installed the whole iSuite: iDVD, iTunes, iPhoto, iMovie, and Garageband (I guess they didn't want to do something like iBand or iMusic to get it confused with iTunes). People say the "i" is for internet, I think it's for "indulgence" as in "self-indulgence." Now with the technology you can be the center and star of your own little world, it takes home movies to a whole new extreme. Now, you can package hours and hours of boring home videos with snazzy DVD themes and music, so at least you can skim through the videos faster.

I read an article in the New York Observer about how we are a generation of me obsessed folks and that the popularity of shows like American Idol and the Apprentice are due to the fact that we just want someone to slap someone silly with reality and tell them, no Timmy, you are not the best (just like everyone else).

I suppose this whole iLife suite simply encourages that trend. But in another sense there's a freedom of creation. A way to indulge a dream of being the next great movie maker, or the next great composer (look what happened with grundge music built on 3 chord songs).

And now if you really wanted, you could literally create a movie to have your life flash before your eyes, complete with soundtrack.

The programs can be a bit tedious and don't quite have all the fine control you'd like to have, but they do their job. I recently made a DVD of the Small Press Traffic performance of Eileen Tabios' play, "When I was Jaspar John's Filipino Lover" which was a hoot and a half to do. My first DVD ever! I don't have a digital video camera, so this will be my only dvd for a while.

Get a bit of hip music, get some flashy transitions, voila! Now we are immortalized for the next several hundred years in way less space than a VHS tape. Will this make me watch my home videos more, probably not. I have shelves of them sitting, collecting dust, some marked, others not. It'll just mean I can fit more on a shelf than I could before.

In any case, I'm having fun. I sit there for hours, tweaking little things, changing color, text, font. And that part of me that's been feeling creatively stifled, feels a bit better.

I finally got to load all my photos into iPhoto. The previous version would always get messed up. The new one can handle at least 15,000 photos (I have one friend who actually loaded that many). I have 5000, many are duplicates, triplicates, of photos. Now they're all mashed together in one place. And now I have to remember, how long ago events were and where I was and when I was there. The pictures go back to 1998. I have to recategorize the past 7 years of my life. Alot changes in 7 years, yet much stays the same, all of which scroll by in 1 inch thumbnails on my screen. Things I thought were just a few months ago were really 3 years ago.

I supposed this is why when people have kids they measure by how old the kid(s) were. I still distinctly remember eating Ramen noodles after kindergarten watching Sanford & Son on a black and white tv. It amazes me how that was over 2 decades ago. I hope that when it stretches to 4, 5, 6 decades, I'll still have a few of those memories.

One of my clients at work is the Wellness Center. They put out a newsletter on health and nutrition that's widely circulated. An 86 year old woman called them up and asked about a story from a 1996 newsletter that discussed how coal burning electrical plants were particularly bad for St.Louis, MO. She recalled it was on the front page and she wanted a copy so she could bring it to the City Council who were considering putting up another coal burning electrical plant. Well, the 86 year old woman was wrong, the article was on page 4. When I'm 86, I want to be as wrong as she was.

I was watching an episode of Nova that discussed Alzheimer's and how losing one's memory has been a fear of mankind for well as long as we can remember. How memories are so much a part of who we are, and how even the shortest memories are a part of our identity. With Alzheimer's, patients eventually even forget how to live.

That's the interesting thing about iLife, it taps into this innate desire to remember and record who we are and what we do and to see and relive that expanse of time.

My Big Fat Reality Obsession

Following Veronica's post on flipping channels to watch various tv shows. Here are my channel surfing habits.

First of all, I don't have cable. Actually, I've never had cable unless it was free. I still have a pair of rabbit ears that gets me decent reception of most of the major channels, but most are still slightly fuzzy. If I had cable, I'd never stop watching VH1 lists, or Queer Eye and In the Actor's Studio, or maybe the Real World and Road Rules marathons and there'd always be a stop on the Sci-Fi channel. Thus, you would never see me again, because I'd be home watching cable.

So, I have to live with the standard local channels.

Currently on the watch list:

1. My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance - an actor is paid to be the obnoxious fiance while the woman is led to believe that he's a real guy who is in it with her to fake their families out to participate in a wedding. If they can get their families to stay for their fake wedding, they split a million bucks. The woman is a Catholic school teacher from a pretty straight laced family. His family are of course also actors sent to just mess with people's minds.
   
   I often wonder what it would be like if it was a Filipino on the show as the bride. (I often fantasize about how Filipinos would just whup butt on Fear Factor, especially on the gross eating task.) I don't know, I think if a Filipino were in that situation, the family might complain a bit, but then they would still show up at the wedding. And though the guy may be strange, they would think he might be entertainingly funny and perhaps just chalk it up to something white people do. I doubt his drinking would be an issue, though if he were unemployed it may irk them though not dissuade them totally. Now, if he was Muslim, assuming the family is Catholic or Christian might have issues, but then again I wonder how much being a white guy (he is tall at least) would buy him creds with a Filipino family. I mean, so long as he wasn't beating on her, would they say anything?
   
   
2. American Idol - I like when they're still trying to narrow it down. Besides there's a Big Boy Hawaiian to root for and other atypical non-britney types to root for to kick ass.
   
   
3. Star Search - My family watched every episode of that when Ed McMahon was hosting. Back in the day when they had every talent imagineable (singing, comedy, modeling, dance, acting. ok the acting category was weird). Now it's hosted by Arsenio Hall who has a vice grip hug on just about every contestant. They've moved away from the silent pretty judges and got Naomi Judd, some TV producer, and MC Lyte who give frank comments to the contestants before making their votes. The twist this year is that two people compete, then that winner has to call out one of the three winner's circle winners. If the newbie can beat the winner's circle champion score, they get to be in the winner's circle. It's like mixing American Idol with say Iron Chef. Plus they've reduced the categories to 3: young singer, young dancer, and adult singer.
   
   Well, the reason I watch is for one of the young singers in the winner's circle, Mike Meija, the cutest Filipino kid with a grin from ear to ear from San Diego. This Saturday, the winner's circle champions will compete with each other, so I'm looking forward to hearing him sing to see if he can secure a spot in the championships in March.
   
   
4. Celebrity Mole - ok, so I still don't know how the show really works or what the point is. But I'll watch to see whether Dennis Rodman is really the mole, or he just naturally acts like he's stoned all the time.
   
   

For the Love of Adobo

OK, so though I'm a romantic, Valentine's Day has not been too romantic for me. I tend to enjoy unexpected romance (like kindness on a day when you're not expected to be kind) over the predictable February 14 where they jack up the prices of red roses til your fingers bleed from the thorns.

Anyway, here's an event for any good Filipino to show your love through food. Actually, you don't have to be Filipino, you just have to love food and maybe even poetry.

Along with adobo, I've heard rumors of various dishes that may be brought: lechon kawali, mongo, and laing. YUM!

===

In the spirit of Love and for the love of food...
Join us for


For the Love of Adobo: Po(e)tluck and Literary Feast
Saturday February 14, 2004
1pm-4pm @ Pusod

In December 2003, blog writer, the Wily Filipino, called for an online adobo day asking as many people as possible to write a post about adobo.

As an extension of that melding of food and writing, join us for a potluck and literary affair. Please bring a Filipino dish (it doesn't have to be adobo) and/or literary piece (short story/poem) about or inspired by food to share. In the tradition of talk-story, we'll gather around the stove by steaming pots of food that will fuel our fingers to cook up new writing or new dishes.

Who knows, if you come up with something, you can stick around and try it out at the absolute best place to try out new material...Mango Mic!

To the herbs, smells, and flavors that spark our imaginations!
Also...a special announcement will be made a new anthology in the works...

girl's side of the playground

a friend of mine is starting a monthly dinner for women of color, mostly of her friends. an interesting contrast to Leny's dinner with some white women.

i do enjoy hanging out with my women friends. most of the week i'm surrounded by men: at work, in kali class. i do enjoy hanging out with the guys; it's something i've done since i was a kid, being into sports and all. but it is nice, to hang with the girls once in a while. for most of us, busy in careers and families, we are carried off in our lives leaving us little time to hang out anymore, especially with our girlfriends.

when there are enough women (3 or more) in my teacher's kali class, he tends to separate us to one side of the class, which we've dubbed "girl's side of the playground." his theory is that if the women play with each other, then we get a better understanding of how our movement and energy work, since in being in predominantly male environments tends to pull us towards the male energy. we all love the "girl's side of the playground." it's a kinder and gentler side, since we don't rely on muscle to get techniques to work, we don't force the issue.

some of the male partner's of the women there wanted to stop by or drop them off, just to see what the women are talking about. this too happens in class, the guys always want to know what the women are giggling about. the SO understands the need for women-time and has always encouraged me to go, never inviting himself along. he's a good guy that way. sometimes he remembers more often than i do, that there's something vital to having the girltime.

anyway, the dinner was like being in the "girl's side of the playground." no boys allowed. which allowed us to talk about our mothers, how they both keep our sanity and drive us insane with comments about our weight and setting us up on "dates." we know that the "dates" are probably going to be horrible, but we go anyway, because we know it makes mom happy being a part of our lives somehow.

with no boys allowed, it meant we could talk about the boys (and the girls) in our lives. how we cope and handle these relationships. we talked too about motherhood, whether we felt ready or not and what kinds of things seemed to keep us from there. those that had kids talked about how they manage to keep up with their careers.

there's something safe about being on the "girl's side of the playground," a feeling that what you say isn't totally nuts, and the laughter and tears generated comes from a deeper understanding of shared experiences, that somewhere deep inside, it's ok to be who we are. there's a sense of conspiracy to it all, especially when we exchange ideas on how to deal with our SOs. or how we discuss how the feminist movement isn't something that we totally agree with.

we started the meal, mostly as strangers, yet looking forward to seeing each other again at the next gathering, leaving with hugs and warm goodbyes.

girl's side of the playground

a friend of mine is starting a monthly dinner for women of color, mostly of her friends. an interesting contrast to Leny's dinner with some white women.

i do enjoy hanging out with my women friends. most of the week i'm surrounded by men: at work, in kali class. i do enjoy hanging out with the guys; it's something i've done since i was a kid, being into sports and all. but it is nice, to hang with the girls once in a while. for most of us, busy in careers and families, we are carried off in our lives leaving us little time to hang out anymore, especially with our girlfriends.

when there are enough women (3 or more) in my teacher's kali class, he tends to separate us to one side of the class, which we've dubbed "girl's side of the playground." his theory is that if the women play with each other, then we get a better understanding of how our movement and energy work, since in being in predominantly male environments tends to pull us towards the male energy. we all love the "girl's side of the playground." it's a kinder and gentler side, since we don't rely on muscle to get techniques to work, we don't force the issue.

anyway, the dinner was like being in the "girl's side of the playground." no boys allowed. which allowed us to talk about our mothers, how they both keep our sanity and drive us insane with comments about our weight and setting us up on "dates." we know that the "dates" are probably going to be horrible, but we go anyway, because we know it makes mom happy being a part of our lives somehow.

with no boys allowed, it meant we could talk about the boys (and the girls) in our lives. how we cope and handle these relationships. we talked too about motherhood, whether we felt ready or not and what kinds of things seemed to keep us from there. those that had kids talked about how they manage to keep up with their careers.

there's something safe about being on the "girl's side of the playground," a feeling that what you say isn't totally nuts, and the laughter and tears generated comes from a deeper understanding of shared experiences, that somewhere deep inside, it's ok to be who we are. there's a sense of conspiracy to it all, especially when we exchange ideas on how to deal with our SOs. or how we discuss how the feminist movement isn't something that we totally agree with.

we started the meal, mostly as strangers, yet looking forward to seeing each other again at the next gathering, leaving with hugs and warm goodbyes.

On the possibility of going to Iraq

A friend on the chilly east coast called me the other evening. She couldn't sleep. When my friends can't sleep, they call me. They know I answer the phone, mostly cuz I live on the west coast and have a 3 hr jump on them. I calculate the time, it's 1am her time.

She has a meeting tomorrow with the foreign desk editor. My friend is a producer for National Public Radio. We often talk about how NPR is very white and very male and how her simply introducing Hawaiian music for background effect is a "new" thing.

Anyway, she tells me that the other day they asked around the office if anyone wants to go to Iraq to produce for the two reporters out there now. She wasn't on that day, but had to stop by the office for something else. She tells me that something inside her told her that she HAD to send this email to say, "I'll go."

She doesn't know if this meeting means that she was picked or not, but the possibility is there. Other folks who put their names in didn't get a call to the foreign editor's desk.

What keeps her up this night is thinking about what her mom and sister will say. She doesn't want to give her mom a heart attack. But then again, here she is single, has no kids, and deep down a duty to be a journalist and bring back the stories no one else would see.

She had gone to the Asian American Journalist Association conference. She met a Pinay photojournalist who had gone to Iraq and brought back some amazing pictures. The woman was stopped once at a checkpoint. They asked her what she was. She said she was American but her heritage was from the Philippines.

Unlike the soldiers I know who have been shipped to the Middle east, I didn't have the same feeling of dread for her. Soldiers are definite targets. Radio journalists might be able to pull something more discretely.

The NPR reporters there now are women as well and are very experienced in making their way around the area. That helps.

In one sense, being Pinay gives her a bit of an edge. Do you know any country that is at war with the Philippines? You may tell them you are American, but in their eyes, they see you as Filipino. Plus, there are Filipinos everywhere. We are the contract workers of the world. In one sense, when there are so few Filipinos in an area, there's a sense that they watch out for each other at least for the short term.

So maybe she might not be used to the sandy conditions, but heat, minimum accomodations, it's like going home. And in some sense, depending on where you go in the Philippines no less dangerous.

She keeps the faith thinking if it's her time, it's her time. And despite her worries about how much this may weigh on her family, something deeper inside her says, she should go. Maybe it might not be a good idea to tell her mother, who is apt to worry and is a bit frail, but certainly she says she'll tell her sister.

I had recently read Sean Penn's account of going to Iraq on sfgate.com. His accounts still fresh in my mind. I imagined my friend flying into the middle east and making the 11 hr drive into Baghdad, the rocky ride, the vast desert with various refugees encamped along borders, of sellers along the way. I imagine her nights and her days filled with the sound of distant gunfire that no one jumps at anymore, the way no one talks about the heat and the sand because these things are everywhere. I think of her walking the streets looking at the faces of the Iraqi people, the soldiers and finding her face in theirs. Maybe one of the soldiers will tell her more than is allowed if they converse in Spanish or Tagalog. Maybe the women will allow her one more sentence. Maybe she will find a voice of a story not yet told that in the end will help all of us understand what has happened halfway around the world.

I tell my friend as the hour pushes midnight on my coast, "you should go. If they ask you, you should go. You have to. It's what you've wanted to do. Of course you're going to be scared. who wouldn't be? But like you said, you're a journalist. You'd be great! It's something you can't miss!" It's an experience that will ask of her more than anything she could imagined. But it's an experience she's been preparing for ever since she got into journalism. And it's something I know that will change her life forever. If she goes, it'll be in the next few months.

She feels better. She's ready to get some rest now. I am too. I tell her good luck tomorrow and to just let me know when she's leaving.

A new look

The old look was getting depressing. And I really need to get out of that funk. When in doubt, change the wardrobe, move stuff around, change the container. So, gone the blocks of color, we're going for shear white with a touch of sky blue at the top. Maybe it'll make me look up a bit more.

In other news, the watcher is closing up shop, but you can still take a few quizzes to find out which Egyptian god or goddess you may be.

On naming a fear: it's been a while

There has been a fear growing inside me. Based on the blog entries, it's been there for several months. I often referred to it as this feeling, this unknown thing. As with many fears, they are non-specific, general. They grow on ambiguity. If you do not know what you are afraid of, then there is no way to deal with it. The same things in me that make me write: a deep passion and fanciful imagination are the same things that can fuel fear.

For months, I did not know what it was. For the past couple of months, the fear has kept me from blogging, from writing, and in many cases, just simple communication with folks. I knew it was getting bad when an email simply asking me how I was doing would send me into a tears. For a person whose friends claim they do not recall the last time they've seen me cry, I found myself crying quite often. All the while, I kept trying to tell myself that I need to be stronger than this. I was losing myself in this fear, yet I did not know what it was. But I did know that this fear was something deep at my core.

On paper, my life is golden. I have good relationships with friends and family, I have a job, I do things I enjoy, I even had a few poems published, I teach something I love, I'm financially secure. Then why, was I so sad? And why did I feel like I was failing miserably at it? I knew too that if I didn't figure it out soon, I would eventually manifest the failure. I was already not writing, not because I didn't have anything to write about, but because I was losing the desire. I would let poems go. I was losing the worthiness to write.

I wandered around for some time. I thought it was because I was turning 29 and 30 was around the corner. Of maybe it was winter, or the rain, or the hormonal time of the month. One friend thought that it might be that I'm becoming too "safe" in my life, that I should consider moving to an entirely different place.

But none of these answers quelled the fear, they only brought more doubt. What was I doing wrong? What was I missing?

I decided to chat about it with my kali teacher. He's good at pressing for a real answer and always seems to know where to hit you to make it hurt the most. So who better to ask about what was hurting me than someone who knows how to do it?

Our chat looked like him asking Why, What's wrong, what's going on, to each I answered I don't know or no, it's not that. Until he nails it, "oh, drama before all the engagement parties."

"You're not thinking of breaking up, are you?" he gets to the point. I say, "no, I've never even thought of that."

He asks me, "so what's all this nonsense about being afraid of losing each other?" Again, I didn't know. But I feel like it's a question I should find the answer to.

Fear makes the strangest things real. It messes with logic. It expands like a quick rolling fog until you can barely see in front of you much less know which direction you are in.

And he had hit upon what I was fearing. It's one of the three fears we most have around loss/death. Fear of losing someone you love.

Divorce now occurs in more than half of the marriages today. Most of my friends are less than 40 years old, and I can already count a few who have filed those papers. I have watched friends and family go through long relationships even engagements, only to end with someone moving out. I have seen people hang onto relationships that should have ended a long time ago. The fear makes me wonder what breaks these relationships that seemed so solid and I couldn't help but wonder if that could be us. As if the odds were against us.

I know that I'm not leaving this relationship. So, if I'm not leaving, then that fear in me asks what about him. What if I do something to just fuck it up?

As I look back over the past few months, I found that this initial fear has morphed and found its way into other areas of my life, a growing stress upon normal activities.

This is not stuff I had thought of consciously, rather it was coming in on a more gut/instinctual fear. And I wasn't thinking these things because I had seen "signs" in our relationship. If anything, the "signs" said that we have a very strong relationship. Even one friend who is a divorcee said to me, "I may not know how to make a good relationship, but I do know what a bad relationship looks like and yours ain't it."

My family (including the larger extended family) prides itself in having long marriages (ie divorce doesn't happen in my family). Most of my cousins who are married had much shorter relationships before being married. Usually after a few years, or maybe less, they decided to get married. Most of them also wanted to be married by the time they were 30.

The SO and me have been talking about our different fears. It helps to know we have similar fears and letting each other know. We are still on the same page and still want our lives to go in the same direction. It has made us stronger. I know now I don't have to always be the strong one.

Now that I have a name for this fear, I have to go back and pick up the pieces of things that I've neglected. And I can't feel bad about having neglected these things, it just adds another fear.

What can you do? I've got a life to live.