flowers atop your cradle on high
like crowns of weathered royalties
attempting to be as blue,
infuse an aroma
of the sweet smells of spring,
forever entangled in odours unascertained
or do you, in truth, cover such disdain?
flowers atop your cradle on high
such beautiful petals you have.
indeed,
to attract more of them ignoramus
who at times try to be ingenious.
and so you may,
while still sitting prettily
while still smelling sweetly
devour them
hungrily.
flowers atop your cradle on high
a flower
atop
my cradle
on high,
i sit still
feigning
my beauty,
my fullness.
but i know
that red is really blue
and white is truly black.
and so i sit
contentedly
silently
and await
the innocent one
who will again
see me,
me,
a flower atop my cradle on high
_________________________________________
photo coutesy of galleria carnivora
when flowers lie
who would have thought?
| You Are a Normal Girl |
 You are 50% Good and 50% Bad Sure you've pulled some bad girl stunts in your past. But these days, you're (mostly) a good girl. |
"christmas" or "end-of-year" party?
from ChurchMice(sigh...sad mode on)
How I would love to spend Pasko in the Philippines! At least there, Christ is not taken out of Christmas (at least for most, I believe). And "Merry Christmas" is not called "Happy Holidays." And Christmas carols are played over the radio on the "ber" months.(sigh and huge pout)Christmas parties, exchange gifts, Kris-Kringle, Monito-Monita. Santa Claus, Christmas trees, socks, Noche Buena, cold Christmas mornings.
Here? Christmas is NOT Christmas. It is the summer holidays. This is how we spend Chirstmas Day (Ooops, should be December 25...hope the Political Correctness Police don't know how to read blogs):
(photo from ShaneMacdonald.org)
Yes, as unbelievable as it is, we spend the day at the beach. Not at home to wait for inaanaks complete with left over food from Noche Buena and well-thought-out presents. Not even at friends' houses to chat the day away. Definitely not those.
December is one of the hottest months in Australia. Some days would reach up to 45deg. And it isn't the same heat as what we have back home. Here, you can actually feel the sun trying to peel through your skin, and I imagine, if we are just made up of combustible material, we'd have bursted quite easily like those LPG-converted cars (or DELL batteries, hehehe). No wonder a lot of Aussies develop skin cancer.
Suffice it to say, Christmas at the southern hemisphere, in a multicultural country, is totally different from what I have been brought up to believe. Christmas is supposed to be characterised by snow, beautiful white surroundings, chimneys with fresh dust from Santa Claus' early morning visit, of "people making lists, buying special gifts, taking time to be kind to one and all...It's the time of year when good friends are near, everywhere, there's an air of Christmas joy." Nobody said that in other parts of the globe, they celebrate the Christmas season with a barrage of political correctness agendas with beers and barbies along the beach!
(sigh and pout again) I think some kind of cultural shock is taking its toll on me. Or maybe I just miss home.
Which reminds me, I ought to book for a ticket immediately! Otherwise, I'm a goner who won't experience Pinoy Pasko until next year.
of neighbours and falling trees
And falling tree it was.
To prevent anymore skirmishes that weren't worth a dime, my boss trimmed those problem branches. But no, being retired and alone and a little loony, Mr. Neighbour wanted the whole tree cut, not just the branches! But that was a ripe, old, endangered-species pine tree, maybe even as old as he was! All the same, he would not accept any excuses, thus kept on bugging my boss who would not give in to that pressure. Until one day, as he was about to drive off for work, he noticed that sign on the tree which said "DANGER FALLING TREE!"
Underneath that sign, almost half of the tree's bark was cut in such a way that a hard gust of wind could unbalance the tree and the part that still held it together would give up and so the tree would fall right onto my boss' house! That morning turned out to be made up of unprecedented commotion, from the Council's men to firefighters, from fire trucks to huge cranes, from solicitors to Mr. Neighbour admitting that he was the one who cut that tree, and they finally cut that blessed tree down.
End of story? NO! My boss had three other trees along that fence line that Mr. Neighbour had his eyes on! And he threatened that he will do the same to those trees when he had the opportunity. Imagine how freaky you would get? Well, extremely FREAKED OUT—that's what my boss had been. He would wake up in the middle of the night when he heard some hubbub outside, which would turn out to be nothing but a couple of possums wooing each other (in that possum-ly manner). Anyway, I would be freaked out o'ryt!
caught in childishness
ok, so i'm nearly thirty and i still love watching children's shows. i remember my father asking me to stop watching cartoon soap operas (nelo, princess sarah, etc.) back in college, he said i'm too old for those kinds of shows. yet here i am, spending my monday morning in front of the telly, laughing, singing and dancing with....(dyaran!)
maybe, there is some psychoanalytical dimension to my obssession with cartoons (note: not just animes or simpsons or other for-adults-only cartoons, but bob-the-builder types). or maybe i am a psycho? nevertheless, i still enjoy harmony and raphsody's "dancing the sleep away" song as well as "the fairy dance time" and even their good bye song. they are so cute and cheery and a real good start to a gloomy day.
ummm...food blog?
finally, here are the fotos of the stuff i cooked last vacation.
here's my palabok. it was a little salty, but still, when you haven't tasted palabok for two years, it was still the best palabok ever.
this is the pinoy-style sweet spaghetti. talap!
this one is my favorite. it's a grilled tuna steak with creamy mashed potato and steamed asparagus, carrots and green beans topped with diane sauce (usually used for grilled beef).
this one is the picadillos (giniling) which i really enjoyed. i discovered that the key to this recipe are the crunchy red and green bell peppers.
this lemon chicken is something different. but i loved it as well.
this is the baked fish with sweet and sour veggies (na hulaan kung sweet ba o sour?). hulaan pati kung asan yung isda. hehehe.
and ito ang pinakanamiss ko...tapsilog! sobra. heaven.
grinning like a shot fox :)
yay! got my dsl back at home, after a gruelling one month of dial up! finally, i can enjoy the comfy of lightning speed downloads and uploads again.
i've also just redeemed my credit card reward points for a new breville esp8b cafe roma espresso machine! woo hoo! can't wait for it to be delivered...then enjoy a freshly brewed coffee with overflowing frothy milk from the comforts of my home! i think i should also buy a new couch then dim the lights around the lounge...just for the overall cafe effect. hmmm....next project, i guess!
seven weeks, cooks and cameras
it's the start of another semester, hopefully my last in this particular course. i've had quite a lot of adventures over the seven-week break, doing basic housewife things such as budgeting, planning the meal for the whole week, shopping for the ingredients for that week, and cooking those planned meals on designated days. it was quite enjoyable, like a roleplaying performance, knowing that it would only last for the winter break, then back again to the usual whatever-is-in-the-fridge-if-none-then-take-away routine.
i know that neither cooking nor baking is a forte of mine, but getting the goal quite right at the end makes me a happy person. there had been bad attempts, and a little too many i suppose, such as the leche flan which is, indeed, leche! or the baked fish with (supposedly) sweet and sour veggies but turned out to be neither sweet nor sour. nevertheless, with me cooking for seven long weeks everyday, there were bound to be good ones (thank God!). and so we enjoyed eating palabok, pinoy-sweet-style spaghetti with italian-style garlic bread, picadillos (though i always called this "giniling"), chili crab (oriental style), sinigang sa miso na ulo ng tuna, third-attempt leche flan, pancakes with maple syrup (though the pancakes were made using a pancake shake mix...just add water!), nasi goreng (indonesian fried rice), and, of course, what i crave the most, tapsilog (tapa queen style! yummm!!!)!
because i haven't got anything to do during those vacation weeks, i also decided to get into photography. i downloaded lessons over the internet and attended an hour-long class. though i know that there wasn't any chance i would reach even the five-steps-away-from-a-professional stage, i was able to celebrate my two filling-the-time carreer. thus, i happily took photos of the dishes that i cooked (only those which were successfully done) and i can definitely say that i enjoyed it.
so, here i am, on the first week of my spring semester, celebrating what i have accomplished, wishing there could be another week to just cook and take photos. i know that in the future, i would look back to this, my almost-two-months winter break when i became an amateur cook and amateur photographer. wonder if i can write that in my cv?
cheers.
found a long lost friend! yey!
i've been enjoying our little chats
it's a loverly, loverly spring!
Bum buttery, flit fluttery
Dum diddly-ooh
Bum Buttery, bluebird
Is singing a tune.
Daffy-down-dillies awaken
And prune
Bursting in bloom
All the flowers assume
It's a loverly, loverly spring.
Chit-chattery chipmunks
All singing along,
Humming their
Join-in-a-spring-along song.
Spring is the springiest time
For a song
It's a loverly, loverly spring.
In the forest we play
With the rabbits all day--
______________________________________
the result of watching
Wimbledon 2006 and
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
on the onset of winter.
think of me first as a person
You look at me with pity,
concern or indifference,
for I am a retarded child.
But you only see the outside of me.
If I could express myself,
I would tell you what I am inside.
I am very much like you.
I feel pain and hunger.
I cannot ask politely
for a glass of water, but I know
parched dry feeling of thirst.
I itch when mosquitoes bite me
and run when I see a bee.
I feel cozy drinking cocoa in the kitchen
when a snowstorm blusters outside.
I had a heaviness inside
when I left my mother
to board the minibus for school.
My eyes darted back and forth, seeking escape
but knowing there was none.
When my sister takes me to the playground
and children call me names,
she cries and takes me home.
Then I feel warm and dizzy, 
and it is hard for me to breathe.
Mother's eyes are wet; she hold me and tells me a story, and
I forget the children's jeers.
When I dress myself and
Mother pats my head, saying, "Good job,
Jim!" I feel...big. As big as Greg,
who goes to second grade.
I am a child-
in age now, and in ability always.
I find the touch of soft toys
and snuggly dogs comforting.
I love the toys of childhood-
a kite, a balloon, a wagon to pull
I like to let go at the top of a slide
and after dizzy seconds find myself at the bottom.
I like sleds on soft snow,
the wetness of rain on my forehead.
Though it is comfortable to be babied,
I am less dependent
when people treat me as a big boy. 
I don't want their sympathy.
I want their respect for what I can do.
I am slow, and many things
you take for granted are hard for me.
I can hardly understand
what "tomorrow" means.
It took months to learn
to pedal the tall blue tricycle,
but I was so proud when at last
both feet pedaled in the same direction
and the wheels went forward.
How happy I was
when I turned on the right faucet
to get a drink of water.
I didn't want to ever turn it off.
If I can learn at my own pace and still be accepted,
I can fit into a world where slowness is suspect.
Think of me first as a person,
who hurts and loves and feels joy.
And know I am a child to encourage and direct.
Smile, and say hello-
even that is enough.
dirty hands
by John P. Delaney S.J.
I'm proud of my dirty hands. Yes, they are dirty. And they are rough and knobby and calloused. And I'm proud of the dirt and the knobs and the callouses. I didn't get them that way by playing bridge or drinking a
fternoon tea out of dainty cups, or playing the well-advertised Good Samaritan at charity balls.
I got them that way by working with them, and I'm proud of the work and the dirt. Why shouldn't I feel proud od the work they do – these dirty hands of mine?
My hands are the hands of plumbers, of truckdrivers and street cleaners; of carpenters; engineers, machinists and workers in steel. They are not pretty hands, they are dirty and knobby and calloused. But they are strong hands, hands that make so much that the world must have or die.
Someday, I think, the world should go down on its knees and kiss all the dirty hands of the working world, as in the days long past, armored knights would kiss the hands of ladies fair. I'm proud of my dirty hands. The world has kissed such hands. The world will always kiss such hands. Men and women put reverent lips to the hands of Him who held the hammer and the saw and the plane. His weren't pretty hands either when they chopped trees, dragged rough lumber, and wielded carpe
nter's tools. They were workingman's hands – strong, capable proud hands. And weren't pretty hands when the executioners got through them. They were torn right clean through by ugly nails, and the blood was running from them, and the edges of the wounds were raw and dirty and swollen; and the joints were crooked and the fingers were horribly bent in a mute appeal for love.
They weren't pretty hands then, but, O God, they were beautiful – those hands of the Savior. I'm proud of those dirty hands, hands of my Savior, hands of God.
And I'm proud of my hands too, dirty hands, like the hands of my Savior, the Hands of my God!
hallelujah
I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this 
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Maybe I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
There was a time
You let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you?
The holy dark was moving to
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Maybe
there's
a god
above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not a cry you can hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah
________________________________________________
rufus wainwright
L - Learner
P - we went and stopped the world
to make a world of our own
and realised how that could
R - reverse out fate.
But we strived on until we reach a
N - neutral ground so we can
D - drive on. And then we
3 - accelerated to achieve what
we dreamed of: we,
2 - you and me; and
1 - our dream.
________________
24/06/06
castlecrag, nsw
opportunity
And so it goes another lonely day
Your savin time but your miles away
Your fly was drownin in some bitter tea
For seeing lost opportunity
Find your mirror go and look inside
And see the talent you always hide
Don't go kid yourself well not today
Satisfaction's not to far away
Hold on now your exits here
It's waiting just for you
Don't pause too long
It's fading now
It's ending all too soon you'll see
Soon you'll see
Your coffee's warm but your milk is sour
Life is short but your here to flower
Dream yourself along another day
Never miss opportunity
Don't be scared of what you cannot see
Your only fear is possibility
Never wonder what the hell went wrong
Your second chance may never come along
Hold on now your exits here
It's waiting just for you
Don't pause too long
It's fading now
It's ending all too soon you'll see
Soon you'll see
Hold on now your exits here
It's waiting just for you
Don't pause too long
It's fading now
It's ending all too soon you'll see
Soon you'll see
