Friday, 24 April 2009


I wrote the next paragraph last night, when I was trying to set the mood of writing again after weeks of avoiding so. Oh, I did it before I slept infront of the computer and luckily did not stiff my neck like the last time this PC rocked me to sleep.

Seems caffeine works for me the opposite of it's desired effect. I just chugged a mug of coffee and my eyes are dropping. If I'll close 'em now, instantly, I would be in my deepest sleep. Not much of a coffee drinker, I had four cups since yesterday, only because, we run out of tea. That's tea with milk, just like the Queen of England preffers it (lol). That was Malta's influence, I mean the tea. One of the things that will remind us of our stay there.

Been almost two weeks now since since my last post. Sorry to start it with "caffeine"...... (*knocked down*).

Friday, 17 April 2009


Saw this video on the forum I usually frequent. I fell on the same spot and if I remember it right, Olive, my sister's friend did too. Wright Park will always be a special place to me. Its where I found my first love - Red Hawk, the horse I ride bareback hahaha... And yes, its also where I met my other love, the father of my kids and my Rascal who once said 12 years ago that he is not my prince in shining armour but my dragon slayer(agasem that).

Speaking of anniversaries, we had our 12th year last April 21. We thought its our 13th but we checked out the first card he gave and its only the 12th. I always believed that its a must to mark the day when two different personalities unite. Sometimes it could be exhausting to find that point to agree as well as that grace to disagree everyday. Living with someone who doesn't always syncronize with your thinking, having of course a mind of his own, requires a great deal of patience and loads of understanding. A year added will always be a miracle and a labor of love.

Saturday, 11 April 2009


I'd like to think we know well the importance of "family". They're our primary support, as I replied on Ma'am Paula's comment on my prior post. With out one, what and who else is there?

True, friends will be around. Computer, TV, cars, beautiful places etc... will also be there to "somehow" help. Therapist too or other people you pay to hear you out. But a son or daughter, a father or a mother and a sister or brother would always be different. They'll give you that higher sense of security, an instinctive belonging that you're a part of something concrete. The confidence too, that no matter how crappy you are, they'll be there to understand and accept you.

The recent painful incident that shook me to the core, my employer giving up on life because he thought he lost his family and everything(READ:I SHOULD HAVE...) . Killing himself just like that! All of these will make me NOT WANT MORE and embrace what and who I have. Celebrate too on who I really am and what I have become.

The husband who rubs your feet... the energetic kids who drain you but just for a kiss and a hug you're up happy washing their butt... your father who waits for your call... your sisters who tell the latest gossip... your mother in law who anticipates your blog... your sister in law who inspires you because she works hard for that dream to come and visit her nephews... and your father in law who made sure he framed your photo so as to be included to his treasures hanged on the wall... After all, its them - your family - defines you. What greater achievement as well as investment would be better than that?

Wednesday, 8 April 2009


I'm in so much pain right now. Tears welling down like it would wash away everything. My employer just killed himself. First, his wife left him, his children are all grown up and the eldest decided to live in Spain. Then he had a stroke that left his right arm and legs damaged. He was getting by but eventually got depressed because he felt his children don't care for him anymore.

He always tells me he is going to end his life and told me not to worry because he would let me know. True indeed he related last Friday that he almost did it last Thursday. We were both laughing as he was telling me he was undecided which knife to use. He told me he attempted to cut his throat twice and said, "Shit, its not easy!".

Before, I would only listen when he tells me all his disappointments and anger to what is happening with his life. That day, I just can't listen anymore and spoke my piece. I told him, all his life he'd been working, always thinking of his family and all. Now, he should give himself a break, spend his money and go see the world. Then he said he can't do anything with his affected arm and legs, but realized his life is ending anyway so why think of what his extremities can do.

"You're right, I should do that! I need to go to some place where there's a lot of sun. Thailand maybe." I heard him say and somehow uplifted my worries.

He went to the kitchen and came back holding a 1oo euro bill. Take this he said and I immediately turned it down. I said I can't accept that and he told me not to get offended. "Its for Easter, for you and the kids", he insisted. He left it on the table and I told him I'll take it as advance payment for this month but he repeated, "Please don't, its a gift, at least for the kids".

Then he went to his swimming therapy but before leaving he advised me not to throw one particular box of pasta in the cupboard. He showed me a bulk of money which according to him his children knew of and now I'm included.

I wrote an entry that night but didn't publish it. I talked how I was somehow hurt because its like I was being paid for caring and giving a piece of advice. Though I knew he didn't mean it that way.

Monday, I found him waiting for me before he'll drive 4 hours to his old house in Piemonte. He'll stay there for two days before heading somewhere for his medical check-up.

I saw his brief case and I wondered why that small when he'll be away for days. Something in me wanted to open it but I didn't have the guts to do so. I knew something was wrong.

That night at home, I was thinking of the worst. Maybe he drove off a cliff so I sent him a message to know if he had arrived. "Hey tnx, I'm sleeping here in my house at Piemonte. Tomorrow I'm going to swiz... ciao", he replied. I was relieved to know he's okay and had known that his check-up would be in Switzerland. The next day, I didn't text him because I thought he might be annoyed of me asking how he is.

Today just as I came in the house to cook dinner while my husband and the kids were playing outside, the phone rang and its my other employer, his ex-wife. My eldest son saw me breakdown and I regretted how I made him worry. I had to tell him when he asked me why and I said "Diego is gone, he is dead".

I hate myself now for not doing what I should have done! Always thinking that I don't want to be a snitch. I did not relay to his son all his father's aches and him always saying he'd kill himself. I should have bombarded him with emails that his father needs him and begged him to give up his job in Spain. I should have told his daughter how he is hurting his father when he asks her to do something but would talk herself out. I should have told them not to be judgemental with their father's behavior because he is not well, physically and psychologically.

"Who else would I tell all of these? Just you...", he told me last Friday and these words are echoing over and over in my mind. I should have opened his briefcase because he left it on top of the ironing board and maybe was waiting for me to see his gun inside. I should have figured out what he wrote on his last text message, "...tomorrow I'm going to swiz", that he intentionally misspelled the swiz for suicide. I should have known he was up for something when I asked when will he be back and he said Friday but looked away, shook his head and said, "...maybe not". Before he left, he asked me if I need anything then his last words were, "Good luck and good health to you, your husband and the kids. Bouna Pascua (Happy Easter)!". I should have known.... I should have...

Saturday, 4 April 2009


Here's an entry from my Papa Dude's blog, Musashiboogie. I totally forgot about Tiyay's and note that he forgot to write about the "vetsin" in Boy's story.

I think Mr. Chip Tsao was addressing the Fillipino fashion designer Boyet Fajardo on his peice he wrote. Probably it dawned on him, when he read about the news on the fashion designer, that Filipinos could now really be a threat in claiming the disputed Spratly Islands.

Filipino workers here in Italy must always flex their muscles at their patrons to show them that they are capable of srubbing toilets day in day out.

Many Filipinos were outraged, running amok on the web criticizing Mr. Chip on his article. The Philippine government shouldn't be preoccupied too much about this, the Chinese government should.

The Overseas Filipino Workers of today are called "Heroes" (Mga Bagong Bayani ng Bayan). I don't know why they call them "heroes?" Maybe because the OFWs have something in common with our World War II veterans, who are still fighting to claim for their pensions or benefits from government agencies. The veterans are luckier than the OFWs, because they can always show their war medals at any government office to prove they are WW II veterans.

Here the OFWs are suffering from the same problems they encounter back home. At Philippine Embassies and Consulates, when they ask for assistance, the government employees run OFWs in circles.

The price of being an OFW hero is a broken family. The core of Filipino family values are often harshly tested by working abroad. And when you hear their stories it will only break your heart.

Like the "TNT" who was frantically searching for fellow Pinoy balikbayans to take an extra person with them. It's difficult for her situation that's why she is sending her months old daughter back home.

There's the father who only takes five euros from his monthly pay for a pack of cigarettes and the rest he sends back home.

The wife who confessed to her husband that she had an affair. Every time she comes home from work she was tired, lonesome and depressed. One day she met this guy who filled the void in her life.

The Italian police labeled a letter writen by a Filipino teenage as evidence when they investigated his death. The boy wrote that he was being bullied and taunted at school because his peers said he was gay. Case closed.

Many OFW parents are worried about their children back home because the money they send isn't enough to comfort and guide their kids to the right path to growing up.

A father in the Philippines tries to be a mother to her adolescent daughter who had just had her first menstruation.

And how about the teenagers who spends their parents earnings on wrong and destructive vices.

Filipino care givers here often times are paid more than any other immigrant workers. Maybe because Filipinos add a special ingredient into their work.

Tiyay, a native of Iloilo, took good care of an old Italian lady till her death. When her employer was sent to live the rest of her remaining months in a hospital, Tiyay stayed with her even in the nights where she didn't even had a bed to rest on. Tiyay was the only person at the old woman's funeral who cried like rain and wailed uncontrollably much to the amazement of the deceased family and friends.

Rebecca Stepenson, an English woman who lives and work in Venice, always let her Filipino part time maid and her family use the masters bedroom to sleep in while Rebecca and her husband are out of the country for a month or so.

There's Boy, a good cook and driver. He was worried about his employer's health because everything he cooks they eat and want more. One time he told me that he thinks his patrons have Filipino blood in them now because when he served them Orate (a Mediterranean fish) in Paksiw, he could hear their slurps in the hall way salvaging what is left on the fish's head.

Filipino care givers keep their employers families in tack while their own families are in pieces.

And like any other Filipino parent, I know when my sons will one day tell their children and grand children what line of work their mama and papa had, they will be proud of what we did. I know this because we are Filipino.


What graduation memories do you hold dear in your heart and why?

College and High School were memorable but I would say my Elementary graduation stands out. My favorite cousin Manang Marlene, became my photographer. Some of my aunts and uncles from my mother side came all along from Itogon just to attend my graduation. Looking back at it, it was just elementary but for them, its like I finished a degree (miss 'em now).

Would you believe there was a dance that night at home? May sayawan ba naman hahaha... That, I didn't have during HS and College graduation. My Auntie Mary, my Dad, Manong Nelio and Sunday were the singers/musicians ahihihi... memories. Funny thing, I was so young that time and I had a crush on Sunday. He was maybe 10 years older than me and I was imagining he'd ask me to dance nyahahaha..... he never did (that includes weddings and other dances my town had hhhmmfff).

So now I ask, “What is your favorite ice cream flavor or ice cream concoction?

I love the Ube and corn flavor back home in the Philippines. Mocha too. Any
brand, Magnolia, Selecta or Presto. Wonder if they still have Presto and Selecta.

For Italian 'icy' ( or icies(?) as how New Yorkers call it according to Russel), I like pistachio, nociola and yogurt. There's this flavor me and my husband love, sold only by Sole Mare (a restaurant in our neighborhood). I forgot what's it really called because we named it "strawberry ding dang do" and it doesn't even taste strawberry at all. Arghh, I'm drooling for it and its only 6 A.M. here, its raining too, heavily (wait, what did that last statement has to do with ice cream?)

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