My Growing Dislike On Kate Beckinsale

I used to really admire her, I was head-over-heels in love with her on that good old movie "Serendipity" and I was in big awe with all the stunts she did in "Underworld". I saw her as a dainty, sweet little creature with a beauty to admire.

But when I learned about how she stole someone else´s husband and father, when she started that affair with her Underworld director who was very married with a young kid, my admiration completely turned to dislike. I hate reading all the news about her enjoying a really hot and over-the-top sex life with her now husband but, don´t you really think how painful it is to the family that you broke? She simply didn´t live up to my adoration. And oh, I´m neither impressed with her bragging that she doesn´t wear knickers!

When questioned about her stealing someone else´s husband, her defense is that universal defense of the world´s mistresses and home wreckers, "their marriage was already on the rocks when we started dating. They were already separated when we became together." Which of course, the first wife claimed wasn´t true. Kate was always rude and had nothing good to say to her when the first wife visited her husband in the sets of the Underworld.

"Kate Beckinsale doesn´t know how to treat other women well", was how the first wife describes her.

I don´t have anything personal against Kate but I have this big thing against people destroying a marriage much more a home just to pursue their own personal happiness.

Oh, and please don´t hate me if you love this actress!

When Does One Become Qualified to Babysit?

I recently read the article Mother Arrested for Using 13-yr-old as Babysitter and just like the many readers who commented on the article, I found the thirteen year age of the girl capable of baby sitting. That, if she was taught responsibility early.

I was babysitting my siblings ages 3 1/2 and 1 yr 8 months, every weekday for like a year when I was 5 years old when our young family moved to Zamboanga del Norte. It´s an island in the Philippines where there was Muslim-Christian fights and many rebels and government military encounters.

We moved to this place when my father was hired by a municipal mayor as a private engineer to mine his land which they thought to have gold stocks. My dad was an experienced mining engineer. However, after less than a year of working for the mine site, my dad found out that it wasn´t gold but coal that the land bears. The income from the coal stock would however suffice to reimburse only the capital. So the mayor and my the mining team decided not to push through the plan. But our young family have already moved at the place. We´ve travelled for two days across the sea to be in this place and we´ve sold what we had back home.

My parents decided to put up their own business selling herbal medicines that were important from another big island, Cebu. Once the medicine stocks would arrive, my mom and dad would go house to house to canvass them and deliver. They would leave early in the morning at six and would come home late at night at around ten. Then started my ordeal.

My parents did not trust to hire anyone as babysitter because of the rampant poisoning in the place. We were instructed to not leave the house and not accept any food from strangers. My parents made me understood that there´s nobody they could trust to take care of the little ones but me. I was five years old but my parents told me I´m old enough. I had to take care of my sister who was three and a half, and my baby brother who was a little over than a year.

I did a really good job babysitting, I was forced to grow up. But up to now when my parents and I talk about my babysitting, I still cry.I was a one year of torture for me. Every morning I woke up early and as I see my parents prepping to go, I´d beg them to stay. But they´d tell me if they stay, we won´t have anything to eat.

My parent prepare our food early at dawn and they´d instruct me hat to feed to my siblings. They´d keep the knives and matches away and make sure that if we have fish for lunch, it´s free of bones. I remember they usually cooked fried eggs for our lunch. They also prepare the milk for my brother so I just had to feed him when he´s hungry.

I dreaded cleaning my brother when he pooed and I hated my little sister for being so lazy, she just wanted to play and refused to help me whenever  I needed help. But what could you expect from a three year old girl? I never learned to smile.

After a year my parents business became big and they had over ten people under their wing. My mom started staying at home every other day. My burden started to ease.

I know that my parents were always proud of me for taking responsibility at such early age but to their surprise, when I was already working and one night after dinner the topic about our life in Zamboanga was brought up for the very first time, I cried like a baby. It was a deep rooted pain from my childhood that was peeled open. My parents never had any idea how much torture the babysitting was for me.

I was able to bring out what I had buried down in my heart and memories for my parents to know. They apologized and explained their reasons. After that very emotional talk, I was able to move on. To date, I no longer cry whenever I talk about my babysitting, and I´ve learned to smile.

The Pain of Losing a Loved One

I recently lost my grandpa on my father´s side. He was a dear old man who was bed ridden for over three years before he finally gave in. We received the news via text message from my dad that he´s gone last Saturday night at 1am here in Europe which was early Sunday in the Philippines, and I cried my eyes out. Throughout my grieving process, my husband was beside me, embracing. My grandpa´s burial was today.

There´s a lot to share about this event, but it´s still very painful to share as of now. Once the pain subsides, I´ll go back to this story and share it here because there´s a lot to learn from it.

For now, check the poem I wrote for him two weeks before he left - The Medicine. I originally posted it at my poetry blog.

Photo credit: weheartit

God saved me from fire, the first time

It was a beautiful summer afternoon; I had finished cleaning the kitchen – dishes and all. I always loved afternoons because unlike mornings when I had to wake early to prepare the breakfast, serve the table, clean the dishes, cook for lunch, prepare the table and clean the dishes once again – a routine that consumes the entire morning of a holiday – afternoons are long, lazy and free for play. There weren’t many playmates around the neighborhood. I never made friends with other teenagers or children in that place. I always felt that I and my siblings were different. We just didn’t get along with them. Their parents weren’t friendly towards our parents. There was always element of envy.

I and my siblings were climbing a huge Casio nut tree at the back yard, about 100 meters away from my dad’s Furniture and Upholstery shop. At third year high school, I was not very mindful of my looks. The only time I combed my hair and behaved like a lady is when I was in school aware of the presence of the boy who had captured my heart. I climbed every tree possible of climbing. No matter how difficult the track that even my brothers refused to climb, I always dared myself. It gave me feelings of satisfaction to be able to conquer not only heights but also a very challenging path.

While enjoying my conquer that afternoon on top of a very tall tree, I devoured the beauty of an irrigation water that extends to the horizon, the hills on the South and the sight of plenty of trees that were inviting me. The wind blowed my hair restlessly. But I felt that something wasn’t right. There was uneasiness in me that didn’t allow me to fully enjoy my haven against the wind. Something was telling me to go home and check what was wrong. I hurriedly climbed down the tree and headed home.

My instinct told me to check the kitchen. I couldn’t see anything wrong. I went to check the dirty kitchen but everything seemed normal too. I wanted to ignore the weird feeling but it kept telling me to continue searching. I removed some of the woods beside the stove, and there I saw, a growing angry red readying to spark and consume the entire dirty kitchen. A single burning charcoal must had escaped when I was grilling some fish for lunch. It must had hit the back of the stove and then bounced and landed the bottom of the wall made of sawali, woven split bamboo mats. The charcoal silently consumed the bottom of the dried sawali wall and with the help of the wind, was making its way up. It wouldn’t take much time before the charcoal, along with its conquered wall, would turn into an angry roaring fire, consume the rest of the walls and reach for the electric wires. I quickly went to the kitchen to get some water and went back to kill the fire. With intense anger, I drowned the threatening fire. When I was certain that the fire was fully stopped, I felt myself trembling and exhausted. I went inside the house imagining what could have happened. I realized that my youngest sister, a little more than 2 years at the time, was sleeping in my parents room. My dad was in his shop adjacent to the house. I and my other siblings were at the backyard more than 100 meters away from the house. My mom was not around.

That lazy peaceful afternoon could have turned into a tragic one. I would never knew how tragic it could be but God did not allow it to happen. He saved me and my family from fire the first time.

See: God saved me from fire, the second time

God saved me from fire, the second time

I was drifting through the sea and it was very dark. I struggled, pushing through the waves and reaching for a hold, desperate for a grip. Shortly, I felt the wind through my face. Slowly and peacefully I was riding a swing. “Wake up …” I heard His whisper. “Wake up …” He whispered again. “No, I don’t want.” I was enjoying my ride it was very different from the troubled sea, why should I leave? “You have to wake up darling, you have to!” There was urgency in His voice and I felt the push.

“What time is it?” Pulling down the blanket from my face I was figuring out where I was. Quickly and automatically, I turned my head to the door. It was ajar and through the curtains, I saw a growing light from the sala. I jumped out the bed and ran to see the light. Behold, the center table was on fire. The table mattress and the plastic flowers in the vase were already consumed and the fire was rapidly growing. I ran quickly to the kitchen and took buckets of water, ran back to the sala and threw the water on the fire. Twice I did run back and forth for the water before the fire was completely stopped. I sat on the floor, astonished. “If I did not listen to the call, what could have happened? And where are my parents?”

Then it came to me that my parents were not home yet. It was already past midnight. They went to visit some friends after we had dinner. I and my younger siblings were watching tv when the lights went off. There was a black out. I took a candle, lighted it and put it inside a glass making it stand by melting its bottom. We killed time by talking and laughing while having some ice cream. When the candle was almost finished, I blew its fire off and replaced it with a new one. However, I did not notice that our youngest sister, only three and a half years old by the time, took the used candle and lighted it again. She already finished her ice cream. She used the empty plastic cap of her ice cream as a stand for her tiny candle and enjoyed watching it burning.

Not long thereafter I felt tired. I put everyone to bed. But before going up to her room, the youngest put her candle on the table, still burning. I saw it but I thought it was okay. We slept.

Sitting on the floor beside the burned table I figured that the tiny candle did not die as I had thought it would. Instead, it burned the plastic cap then slowly consumed the table cloth and grew. How stupid? Why did I think it was okay? Why didn’t I figure that it would cause fire? I was scolding myself. If the house was burned down by fire and we six siblings were burned to death, then I wouldn’t get to graduate high school. It was only six months away.

I stood and checked the table making sure that the fire was entirely stopped. When certain, I went to check my siblings, they were all sleeping good. I went back to bed. I knelt and prayed thanking God for waking me up and saving me and my siblings from fire for the second time. Before I drifted back to sleep, I recalled that a year ago, God had saved me from fire the first time. ZzzzzZzzzz


God saved me from fire, the first time will be the next publish :)

Back with renewed energy to blog

Yes, I’m back now with renewed energy after a month of idleness. My blog archive shows only four entries for the month of July. That was very idle. It was not that I felt lazy last month, but it was that I was on a vacation at my parents place in Palawan, Philippines. My parents own a retail store and adjacent to it is my sister’s whole sale store of grocery supplies and drinks. I found out when I was there that the store is very busy. I couldn’t just sit down, I had to help out. The store opens at six in the morning and closes at ten at night. After the store closes, we had to pack water to put in the big freezer for ice. It’s very in demand. After we finish preparing for everything we need for the next day, only then I could retire to the house to have a shower and prepare for bed. But if you think I immediately sleep because of tiredness, well I don’t. I had to wait for my boyfriend’s call which would be around midnight because he lives in a country that is six hours late. He could just make a call after work. Because I sleep very late everyday, I also wake up very late. But once I wake up, there are just too many things to do that the day goes too quick. It’s a blessing that we have a helper who can do the house chores. If we don’t, it would just be too hard.

So basically, that’s how I spent my vacation, working in the store. I was unable to visit around the island of Palawan or visit the friends that I planned to see. I did see some old classmates from college and high school but only because they dropped in the store. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen anyone.

Now I’m back in Bangkok and have all the time in the world to do what I want or what I need. I arrived on the 30th July but I was very groggy of tiredness and jet lag that I had to wait to get back my mood to blog. I woke up very late again today and felt that it’s time to start again. I feel guilty to all the good friends who keep dropping in my page but whose visits are left unreturned. But since I got my energy back now, I will always be around again to share my thoughts and to gain from others’ thoughts.

A rare family video

Once the kids start to go to the universities, find work and get married, getting together becomes a rare occasion. This is true to us. It´s always fun when all the siblings come home and have a reunion at our parents' house.

In this video, I'm introducing to you my family. We were having a picnic at our new bought land which has a river. It is located just below the Estrella falls, one of the fascinating water falls in town. The video above shows how much fun it is to be in our family.

The value of a simple “Thank you”

I love giving gifts. I feel that unexplainable happiness when I see someone’s face brightened up while receiving my gift. I give gifts to friends and love ones. I even feel oblige to give alms to those disadvantage people sitting beside the streets. Whenever I come home, I always make sure that I’ve got some presents. However, choosing gifts is always not easy. You have to consider the likes and dislikes of the receiver. You also have to make sure that stuff you choose to give such as clothes and shoes would fit. It is even much difficult to buy gifts for love ones you have not seen for quite a time. And yet, even if you are not obliged to give, you give gifts anyway because it is your way of expressing love and care.

But what happens if your gifts are not appreciated? What would you feel?

I flew all the way from Bangkok to Manila and straight to Puerto Princesa City, after which, I had to travel for two hours through a shuttle van to reach home. I was carrying with me a good 28 kilos of luggage, a 12 kilos hand carry, a laptop and a shoulder bag. I went extremely beyond the allowed number of kilos so I was forced to pay an unbelievable 4,200 baht including both the international and domestic flight. It hurt my pocket but I was thinking that the presents would please my parents, my siblings, some love ones and friends. I chose to let go.

Everyone was happy with what I had for them and they rightfully expressed their happiness and gratitude except my sister whom I heard nothing good about my presents for her but complains. She complained about the expensive shoes I had for her because her toes are too big for them [well, not really too big. She simply got not so sexy toes]. She also complained about the pair suit and skirt I gave for her because her arms are too big for the sleeve [yeah, a little bit bigger arms but does not really look bad]. I was trying to convince her that the shoes and suit just look good on her but she was not convinced anyway. I was hurt so I told her that she does not know how to appreciate. I brought stuff all the way from Bangkok just to be criticized. She said she does not criticize, she simply air what she feels; “Is that wrong?”

“No. It isn’t wrong. My apologies.” Was my answer before I walked away.

My dad intervened after I left explaining to my sister the value of gratitude and appreciation. That regardless of what you feel about the gift, it is important to look at the thought and appreciate. That if she wants to air her thoughts, she should do that in a careful way. That it is all about the approach.

That left me with some thought provoking questions. The ethics that parents teach their kids while going down the stairs to met aunt Griselda to say “Thank you. This is such a nice gift.” no matter what, is it right? Or is it a form of white lies? Is it better to say exactly what you think of the gift for the essence of being true?

I don’t know what you think. But for me, I just say thank you and smile for any gift given to me even if I don’t really like it. I look at the intention and the thoughts and I appreciate.

The day I learned how much my dad loves me

I was feeling something weird on my face one day. It must have started slow without me noticing, or it could have come over night – I did not know. The left side of my face was stiff. I could not eat properly, I could not speak clearly, and when I laughed or smiled, only the right side of my face was moving. I looked so ugly. I was twelve years old.

The doctor said it was mild stroke. So many “whys” and “hows” were unanswered. The only possible cure was a therapy. The big word was “possible”. There was no guarantee that my face would come back to normal.

I decided to sit quietly inside the classroom when I was at school. I stopped raising my hand to participate in class discussions. Nobody would understand me anyway. One teacher found it very unusual for me to sit so quietly and not participate in class. He was asking quite a tough question one time and a number of classmates had given answers already but the teacher still wanted more. The question was part of the homework he gave on the other day. Then he called my name. I was very anxious to stand and speak. But the teacher was waiting. The entire class was waiting. I gathered all courage to stand and give my answer. I knew that what I had in mind would suffice to satisfy the teacher. But halfway of my speaking the entire class was laughing furiously including the teacher. Some classmates were mimicking the way I spoke. I wanted to vanish from the place.

I stopped going to school. I refused to talk to people other than my family. I stuck myself inside our house. My dad was very sad. He told me that there must be a very big reason why God allowed it to happen to me. I knew the reason why. My mom, my dad, and I knew why.

Two days before I noticed something unusual on face, there was a big fight between my mom and dad. It was Friday evening. The Sabbath has started. But instead of preparing to go to church for a divine worship, I and my mom were preparing to go to a coronation night at school where I was asked to deliver my winning declamation piece “I am an Addict”. My dad refused to allow me to go to the coronation because it was already Sabbath but my mom was supporting me with my decision to go. Despite my dad’s opposition, I and my mom went to school.

The school was extremely isolated from the village. It was a big compound with new buildings. It was positioned at the feet of the mountains on the other side of a very big river. It was the huge bridge that was connecting the school to the village. There were no residences around.

I delivered my declamation piece around midnight, after which, my mom and I immediately went home.

On the Sabbath day, Saturday, my parents and my siblings were all ready to go to church but I was still in bed. I couldn’t get up because I was feeling so weak. Both my eyes were very swollen and I could not open them. My dad said that it was the result of my prioritizing to go to the coronation instead of observing the Sabbath. I had to stay at home that Sabbath day.

On the second day after I delivered my declamation, my eyes were healed and I felt strong again. However, in replacement to the swollen eyes, my face started to feel stiff. I tried to keep it to myself because I was scared that my parents would worry so much. Yet shortly, I could not hide the stiffness of my face anymore. I had to use more body language to communicate.

My parents were very disturbed. Several of their friends advised them to find a quack doctor because they believed that my face was a work of some evil spirits. My parents simply explained to them that we don’t seek help from quack doctors. We only seek help from God. My dad believed that only God could cure my face.

When I went to bed at night, my dad was making sure that there were bibles placed on both my sides. At midnight, my mom and dad would wake me up for a midnight prayer. It was a practice that took for about a week. But unknowingly, my dad was painfully seeking help from God. He was on his knees for how many times everyday begging God to tell him what to do to cure his eldest daughter. Then one night, he had a dream. He saw a flash of light on a very dark room. The light revealed a bottle of water. In his dream my dad asked what should he do with the water? The answer was, use the water to massage the face. My dad woke up after the dream and was unable to sleep until morning.

When I woke up, my dad gave me an empty bottle and asked me to clean it and fill it with water. When I was done, I gave the bottle to him. My dad then said that we had to go inside the room. We knelt and prayed. My dad was praying. He was asking for the forgiveness of our sins. He was asking God to bless the water so that through it, my face will be back to normal. My dad’s voice went crack, then he was crying. I opened my eyes. I saw my dad with his eyes close, still praying, but the tears were just coming down his cheeks so rapidly. I never saw my dad cry. He is a very gentle but a tough guy. I was unable to close my eyes back. I was just staring at my dad in awe. At that very moment, I realized how much my dad loves me.

After the prayer, my dad massaged my face using the water from the bottle.

Later in the afternoon, when my siblings were already back from school, we were playing in our backyard. I was on top of a guava tree and was laughing to my brother’s story when I realized something has changed. I hurriedly climbed down the guava tree and ran back to the house. I took a mirror and smiled in front of it. I saw a pretty smile. Then I was laughing. Then I was shouting calling my dad. I ran to my dad’s shop which was just in front of our house announcing the good news “my face is healed!”

Right now, as I sit in front of my computer writing down this testimony, I cannot help but cry and smile while I see that girl running to her papa announcing the good news that her face was again pretty. Her dad simply hugged her and said “Thank God”.

Would you want to live at old age?

How to spend my old age did sometimes come into my mind. I thought of writing books. Perhaps I would write something about Mathematics since it is my field of expertise; but most probably, I would write more about fiction. I am blessed with abundant imagination and if there is such a thing as mind recorder, I must have had an abundant number of books published by now. Thus, when time comes that I would no longer have to go to work; it would be perfect for writing. But I was wrong. What I thought as old age was actually not “old age” but “retirement age”. I realized this yesterday when our school visited the country’s first ‘home for the aged’ founded as early as 1953, the Social Welfare Development Center for Older Persons. Visiting such a place exposed me to the reality of old age. The beauty and harshness of life were both painted on those extremely wrinkled and some hollowed faces that I saw, mingled and smiled with for half a day. Each had story to tell.

But what really hit me, was the thought of how futile everything would be when old age comes. When you are no longer able to walk, when you are not capable of eating by yourself, or when you have to wear some huge diapers for you to pee and poo-poo. When you harvest the cruelty of Alzheimer’s disease, or when you seem to be mentally ill because you woefully keep replaying that most terrible pain from the past, or when you just have to lay on the bed for the rest of the day looking at the ceiling, or when you just have to sit in a tiny cubicle-like room [if not cage-like] wishing that you have somebody to talk to other than the same old people like you, would you still want to live such an age?

I realized that whatever possessions you would gain, whatever honor or status you would earn through hard work, when old age comes, nothing will matter. How much more when you die? So why not just live and enjoy life?

Lonely woman in the cell photo was captured by Michael Braun.

a tribute to mothers...

I bet I’m the worst daughter in terms of thoughtfulness. I feel ashamed in myself that I did not remember that today, the world is celebrating the day for mothers. Thanks to my hubby he reminded me when he texted me informing that he’s on his way to the flower shop to get his mom a big bunch of flowers. Oh boy …

So I hurriedly sent my mom an sms greeting her a happy mother’s day. But unlike my boyfriend, I couldn’t go to the flower shop to get my mom some bouquets this late, she lives a pacific away. Hmmm, that’s quite a thousands of miles, I guess.

But thanks to my blog site, I have a way to express my gratitude to my mom and to all the moms of the world. Needless to say, I thank her for carrying me inside her for nine months and giving me the chance to see the world by risking her life when she gave birth to me. And all the tears she shed in giving me life and raising me well and proper, I would never be able to repay.

I had not seen my mom for four years now. So I’m looking forward to seeing her in July. I’m going to see her at last. There’s a story that I will tell her.

All the while I knew that I’m close to my mom. But that I’m closer to my dad given that I’m the oldest of six and the first girl. It’s a general knowledge that eldest girls are typically, daddy’s girls. But a difficult experience revealed something else to me.

When I first came to Bangkok, my appendix erupted that I had to have an emergency surgery. I went to a hospital and had the surgery all alone [the story is in the article “Living abroad with God]. When I woke up, still lying on the operating table, a terrible pain hit me. I was calling for help, weakly whispering, “Mama, mama!” It was her name and not my dad’s that automatically came out my mouth. It stuck in my head ever since.

Why not? Mothers, regardless of any situation and circumstance, endured so much just to bring you and me in this world. No one can remove that fact.

So today, the world is paying hats off to all mothers of the world. hApPy mOtHeRs dAy to all moms.



[I don't have any good photo of my mom. I just got this one from my brother's site in friendster. In this photo, my mom and dad were having a picnic in one of the beautiful water falls in the island of Palawan, Philippines.]



[My hubby and his mom. A perfect picture of a mother and son. .: Photo used with permision from the owner, Nilda Josko]