I am now officially poor. And shaky. And jumpy.

Too.
Much.
Coffee.

Filed under: Food and Drinks, Likes, Occasions, Thoughts Tagged: Food, Life, Literature, Thoughts ]]> http://thejoyfulmystery.wordpress.com/2011/12/07/altogether-now/feed/ 0 thejoyfulmystery IMG-20111207-00071 IMG-20111207-00057 IMG-20111207-00072 http://thejoyfulmystery.wordpress.com/2011/12/07/and-here-it-comes/ http://thejoyfulmystery.wordpress.com/2011/12/07/and-here-it-comes/#comments Wed, 07 Dec 2011 04:41:13 +0000 thejoyfulmystery http://thejoyfulmystery.wordpress.com/?p=1800 ]]> Got the green one.

Comes with a CD. Beautiful renditions of beautiful songs in Bossa Nova and Acoustic.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Stickers and Freebies

With the last Christmas drink..

Still sealed. Don’t want to open..yet.

                                                          Forgot to take a picture of the card. Tsk. Excited much?

They say that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So is cooking a prerequisite of love? In other words, can a man see himself married to a woman who can’t cook? A friend once told me that if only fine cuisine were just like  men - delicious and succulent, she won’t have an issue with learning the ways of the kitchen. Too bad. Most are either flat or flavorless.

You should know by now that I don’t cook. I may learn it someday but that day isn’t today, nor tomorrow, nor next month. I don’t really get affected when someone questions my lack of ability in the kitchen. It even came to a point where I wanted to get offended so I can force myself to learn. You know, just like how motivation works. But I got so used to the side comments and criticisms that I blow them off to smithereens and see them as compliments. I don’t cook but I’m good at what I do and yes, I am proud of it. In a short span of time, I managed to bring myself from here to HERE and in what I do, no cooking is required.

Someone must have loved and accepted me for what I do and do not do, chose to do and chose not to do because the last time I checked, we are still so together. By the way, I’m not totally worthless in the kitchen. I clean up and wash the dishes. Besides, there are better things to do in the kitchen than just cook.

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn
That kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child.

And you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way
of falling down in mid flight.

After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden

And decorate your own soul
instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn
that you really can endure.

That you are really strong.

And you really do have worth.

And you learn and you learn
with every good bye you learn.

September 25, 2009

Townhouse compound

1 bedroom, 1 floor affair

11:00 AM: Rain was pouring like all hell broke loose. Coming from work the night before, I was sleeping like a baby, alone. It was cold. Perfect time to hide under the sheets.

12:00 PM: A series of loud knocks on my front door, with at least two people shouting my name. Hmm.. No one will visit me at this weather and just like any other day, visitors are not expected. Compelled to open the door, my neighbors, the couple (Bev and Kit), who live across me said, ”We have to get out of here!” My perpendicular vision led me to the left side of my house. For the first time in two years, I saw our hallway filled with floodwater, fastly creeping to our doors. The words not sinking in and feeling all too comfortable, I was spinning like a top. Looking up the ceiling for leaks, doing rounds on every corner of the house. No leak here. Check. No leak there. Check. Little did I know that the ceiling is not what I should be checking.

1:00 PM: I hear bubbles. All bell traps boiling,  spitting out water. That’s weird. What the heck was that? The nightmare has just began.

I looked outside and chocolate-colored water was just a few meters away from the house. As soon as I turned the knob on my door, Kit hurriedly asked his nanny (Oly) to help me unplug all electrics, turn  the main power source off, lift stuff and place them somewhere, anywhere high. Once again, I was spinning like a top. Only this time, I was no longer doing rounds. I was all over the floor trying to think right, getting my act together.

We moved in 2008. Newly married. This was our first house. We started from scratch – literally. The only things we had then were a bed, a TV set, a teeny-mini dining set and some basic stuff. We built this home from zero. Slowly, A and I filled our home not only with memories but with things we worked hard for. Sweat, tears and all that. Slowly, we saw this house rise. From looking like an empty space to looking like a home.

A was in the office. Received an SMS asking him to go home. He logged out and threaded the then waist-deep water. Walked about 4 kilometers to reach home.

Not us but similar

1:30 PM: “We have to get out of here!” Again, Kit. He threw me a bag. “Put clothes, underwear, anything valuable inside this bag. We’re going to the Manahans (Family who asked us to find shelter in their three-floor house with rooftop, 500 meters from our place).” Water was almost knee-deep inside the house. Still confused, I obliged.

1:40 PM: Six people. The couple, Gab (their 1-year-old boy), Oly, the head nurse, Julie, who lives beside my house and myself. I was stuck on the gate. Couldn’t move my feet. I can’t swim. I don’t know how. ”You can do this,” Kit said. “It’s neck-deep but you won’t have to swim.”

It wasn’t JUST swimming I was scared of. I’ve never walked, jumped, in floodwater before.

It’s braving the flood or dying here. I took one step. Then another. Soon enough, I was walking hand in hand with the five of them. The current was strong and all of us swayed in every blow. Half way en route to the Manahans, I saw A, walking. I couldn’t explain how I felt. “How’s the house?” He asked. “Wala na” (All gone). You’re safe, I’m safe, that’s all that matters.”

Now seven, we stopped. Only 50 meters away from the Manahans, floodwater has increased to 5.3 feet and we couldn’t go any further. Only three people, including A know how to swim. With Gab crying, someone (Lily) from across saw us and yelled for us to go up her house. Without batting an eyelash, we rushed.

2:15 PM: The house was humbly built for just one family. Julie, Bev, Gab and I (plus Lily, her son, Harry and husband, Mark) were inside the house. The boys (Kit and A) had to resort to the roof (made of very thin iron sheet). As I look out the window, I saw television sets, chairs, tables, cars, tons of garbage floating all over our village. I saw a garbage truck eaten whole by the water. I looked beside me and saw six people dripping, shivering. Thank the heavens we are still safe.

7:00 PM: Everyone was hungry. Good thing Oly packed enough milk for Gab. Three men are on the roof now. Kit, A and Jun. Jun’s wife (Patty) and 11-month old daughter(Sarah) are inside their house. Jun had to cook food. He willingly shared his 2 packs of noodles to us. Cooking them was a challenge. He took out his portable gas stove. The pan was hot. Jun saw A’s sock and A used his sock as a pot holder. LOL.

Sleep didn’t come to me that night. Gas fumes, the roof squeaking occupied my mind.

6:00 AM: Flood was still high. No rescue. All cellphones are dead. Kit had to swim outside (Kit has had Coast Guard training) to get some food. Three packs of ordinary noodles and 2 cans of sardines cost us 500.00 PhP (around 11.00 USD).

Two days and two nights. Food and water were scarce. No rescue. No communication to the outside world.

7:00 AM, September 27, 2009: Floodwater was just right below our knees. We went back to our homes. So many people walking like zombies. Similar to a mall’s bargain. Faces you see still managed to smile, somehow. Our home, smothered in mud, awful smell.  Took us one week to clean up and one month to go back to normal and not even a lifetime to forget.

Obviously, all these aren’t enough to describe what we’ve been through. We are not millionaires, not even thousand-aires, but A and I have lived comfortable lives. Our parents have worked hard to raise us with enough. Going through Ondoy (Ketsana) was a first in our lives. It even took me two years before I wrote about it.

Aftermath

They say you just have to be aware. They claim everything’s okay. It’s not okay. What is awareness if you’re not doing anything about it?  You can sit forever and be aware, but without action, what can awareness do?

I’m sorry for paranoia. You may never have been in that situation in your life.

I’m sorry for paranoia. Have you ever swam with garbage, cockroaches, maggots?

I’m sorry for paranoia. Have you ever used your flood-drenched sock as a pot holder?

I’m sorry for paranoia. Have you ever spent 500 PhP for 3 packs of noodles and 2 cans of sardines?

I’m sorry for paranoia. Have you ever heard a baby crying, heavily breathing, because of gas fumes?

If it’s paranoia when there’s just the two of us without anyone to hold on to but each other, then so be it.

With Typhoon Falcon (Nari) last week, we evacuated fast and went down south. I’m sorry for paranoia.

I’m not sorry for the brave and paranoid people we were with for two days and two nights. I’m not sorry for being safe. But I am sorry for insensitive people who just can’t understand.