Growing Up

I've had this blog since 2004. After 366 posts, I feel that it's time to close the chapter of my life chronicled in this blog, my 20s, and move on. I'm still blogging. I haven't moved over to the dark side (AKA Facebook). See you at imlearninghowtocook.com!

Y'all know I love motherhood, but it can really get so frustrating sometimes! I would like to have just one night in my life where i could get really f*ked up and party like in the bad old days, leave responsibility at the door and pick up where I left off after my hangover wears off. I'm probably too square for that now though lol. Listening to My chemical romance. Am I too angry for the world? Probably.

Ang Linggo Ng Wika Edition

Minsan, kapag may kausap ako sa Ingles, takang-taka sila kung bakit matatas akong magsalita ng Ingles kahit na Pilipino ako.

Ganun din naman kapag nagsasalita ako ng Tagalog. Alam nila na Inglesera ako pero minsan napapakamot ng ulo ang mga kakilala ko kapag nakikipag-talastasan ako sa isang Batanguenyo o Marinduquenyo.

Taal na Cavitenyo ang ama ko, at ang lola ko, kahit na matagal na siya sa Amerika, ay hindi pa rin marunong mag-Ingles. Malalim talaga siyang mag-Tagalog.

Pero ang totoong sikreto ng aking kakayanan sa Tagalog ay: Valentine Romances Pocketbooks.

Likas akong mahilig mag-basa. Minsan, isang tag-araw, sobrang batong-bato ako na nahiram ko na halos lahat ng libro na nasa aklatan malapit sa amin. Katorse ako noong panahon na iyon. Kaya ayon, pati yung Valentine Romances eh pinatulan ko na. Ang Valentine Romances ay maihahambing sa Mills and Boon, Tagalog nga lang. Nakaka-aliw palang magbasa ng Valentine Romances kasi akala mo eh maguuwi na sa kama yung istorya...eh hindi pala lol. Nakalimutan kong CENSORED pala ito dahil Pilipinas 'to teh, hindi Amerika.

Kaya sa mga taong ayaw mag-Tagalog o di kaya eh likas na Inglesero/a dahil sa pagpapalaki sa kanila...nakakalungkot isipin ito dahil malaki ang nawawala sa isang Pilipino kapag nakalimutan niya na ang ating wika ay hindi lang nagpapayaman sa ating kultura, kungdi nagpapayaman din sa dunong ng utak natin. Alam niyo ba na ang taong matatas magsalita ng dalawang wika ay mas madaling matuto ng ikatlong wika? Na nakakaligtas sa pagiging ulyanin ang kaalaman ng higit sa isang wika?

Kaya hayan, mga kababayan. Tandaan niyo ang sinabi ni Jose Rizal: Ang hindi marunong mag-mahal sa sariling wika ay daig pa ang mabaho at malansang isda. BOW!

My Laptop; An Elegy

My Laptop, I barely knew Thee.

I was very happy the day I got my laptop. It was a Christmas present from my German family, who had all chipped in to get it for me. I badly needed one for work, and heaven heard my prayers. I have a desktop, inherited from a friend, and the sound wasn't going right. I needed Skype for my business, you see.

You had a built-in camera function, great sound, and free Windows. What more could I ask for?

Oh, you were so shiny and new that I was scared witless every time you got a scratch. I think the biggest scare was when some rainwater splashed on the laptop and it wouldn't switch on for a few hours. I called people I barely knew to ask for advice!

I called you mine and put a big, fat sticker on the front. My name. You were mine.

Oh, how cruel was it that you were taken so early from me. Last June 2, while we were away during Himmelfahrt weekend, you were taken stealthily from our apartment, Charger included. I tried to look for you on E-bay and second-hand shops, but in vain.

Oh Laptop, I cherish the short months we spent together, and I thank you for your service. Adieu.

Adventures in Elderberry

Elderberry season is long gone in Thuringia, but while it was still in full-bloom, I had a chance to try out an Amiexpat recipe and a German staple, Elderberry syrup, a recipe I got off the internet.

Once I knew what they looked like, I was shoked at how prevalent they really are: It's everywhere, like a freaking weed! All I needed to look for were blooms that were big and not bug-infested; it seems that black flies like sucking on the nectar.

First up is Hollerküchle .



I followed the recipe, but I didn't really dig it so much. I got a headache after eating a couple of them, because the aroma was so intense and sweet, and I can't stand really strong perfume. So this was probaby my first and last attempt at it.

Elderberry syrup isn't so hard to make: See recipe here

My husband likes it so much that we'll probably run out of syrup by the end of summer. This one is definitely a keeper.

To Thine Own Self Be True

Some of the best writing of this world come from a place of truth. May it be fiction or biography, it has to come from a kernel of truth or passion that expands out of the author, beyond herself. It knows no bounds.

Like the proverbial mustard seed.

I am going through a difficult time in my life right now, a place I am not ready to talk about just yet. I am not yet ready to share this grain of truth. This is the reason why I haven't been writing; I'd rather not write than write something that is not emanating from a place of honesty.

When I am ready, if I am ready, I'll let you know.

Them

"Oh, what a noisy little toy," said my mother in law as she critically inspected the new singing radio my son has been playing with for the past hour."Where did you get it?"
"My mother sent it over."
"Oh. Them."
Them. As if they were aliens from outer space.
--------------

Them. Coming from a culture where fourth cousins once removed are considered extended family, I find it endlessly curious that my German family has never met my Filipino family, and never the twain shall meet. They don't even speak the same language. While my family speaks English, Thomas's family, except for Thomas and his oldest brother, doesn't. That they don't even consider themselves related boggles my mind. My German family may visit the Philippines, but don't like the USA, being the good GDR relics they are. But they don't consider my relatives in the US as their relatives.

Ok, My paternal side of the family don't exactly get along or associate with the maternal side, but still, they know each other. Sometimes I fantasize what would happen if my brother in law meets my brother. They were born in the same year, but they couldn't be any more different. This disconnect makes me think, does six degrees of separation really apply here? Because these are two completely different worlds. I have managed to adjust to life in Germany. How will they find the Filipino life? Do they even think that they are somehow related to my kin?
---------------

Anyway, I've been thinking about this lately because my mother in law is taking my son and Thomas on holiday without me. She is paying for them both. I am fine with this, though I have a feeling that Mother and son kind of feel a bit guilty not taking me along. Thomas said that it is only fair, since I have spent two months of last year visiting my family without him. Fair enough.

While I am grateful that I will get a week's worth of a good night's sleep after 14 months, A part of me wonders if I am considered family. Or am I as expendable as my side, easily pushed out of their minds?

Egypt On My Mind

One of the benefits of living in Germany is that I have established friendships with a more diverse mix of foreigners than I have in the Philippines.

These recent riots in Egypt have been given a personal face by my friend Azza (not her real name), who is worried sick for her family in Cairo. She and her husband had lived in Egypt, and moved back here. The journalist part of myself is pumped, saying damnedfuckwhyamInotinCairo? As a Filipino, I see many parallels between what is happening in Egypt now and what happened in the Philippines in 1986. Yes, I am old enough to remember the end of Marcos rule and the shaky first Aquino administration. As an expat, I understand her worry.

She has said that she has an agreement with her parents that they have to miss call her phone every two hours as a sign that they're fine. She tries to call them back, but because the mobile signal comes and goes in waves, she hasn't always been successful. Government has all but cut off internet, and one sole provider, who services 8 percent of the country, still has its servers open. People are digging out their old modems and go dial up to at least have some form of connection on-line.

But her parents are not telling her the whole truth. Her sister, in a rage, called her because mom and dad were not picking up the phone. Her Sister told her everything that her parents have kept from her. That she (the sister) tried to go to work but police blocked all roads. She went out of her car to see what was going on and the police clubbed her head for daring to ask a question. She was able to go to work but is now trapped at the office. That was a week ago. Looters have been taking advantage of the absence of the menfolk and have been stealing from homes while holding the female residents at gunpoint. Because of this, grassroots-level neighborhood watches have been organized, since they can't trust the police to help them. And her brother has gone to the streets, which is even more dangerous.

She also says that rioting is starting to spread nationwide, which is a surprise to me since normally, revolutions mainly take place in the capital. Although I imagine that the more remote parts of Egypt have been spared from the breakdown of order.

I've been watching Al Jazeera "the only network that doesn't get its news from the hotel balcony," she says, and I am just gripped by what has been happening over there. I'm also worried for Egypt's economy. I know that the income gap is huge in Egypt, and I understand why Egypt's prosperity is not yet trickling down to the poorest of the poor, but I would feel so frustrated if I were Egyptian, since they are the largest economy in North Africa. I also personally feel heartbroken for Egypt's archeologists. Azza told me that the human shield protecting the museums, formed by people who care for Egypt's heritage, has been broken apart by violence. Who knows what's going on in there now. Apparently, the military is guarding the museum now .

Have you been riveted by what's happening in Egypt as I have been? I guess once a news junkie...

Things I Wished I Thought About...

When I first set off from Manila on June 13, 2006, I wasn't thinking, here is the beginning of the rest of my life. Here, I would start my new life. Sure, I sold off all my appliances and stuff, but it was mostly to finance my German lessons, and the adventure of it all had me in a thrall.

Four years and one kid later, I look at my son and realize with sadness that he will not grow up Filipino. Strange but true. I never thought I would end up thinking this, but somehow, knowing that he will probably not appreciate the art of eating dried fried squid dipped in vinegar, makes me sad.

I think that my husband realizes this too just now. That Antonio will not be German-German. He will be somewhere in between. He realizes now that there are some things that will always remain alien between us, and my realization that our son will have to negotiate this murky path towards identity alone, saddens me. It is difficult enough to find youself with both parents sharing a nationality. Who knows, maybe in the end he will embrace this in between two worlds identity of his.

I wish I had thought about the fucked up German school system. While it is good (if you use PISA rankings as a yardstick), I feel so sad to think about the enourmous pressure it puts children under. I mean, sure, I knew I wanted to be a writer when I was 12, but I feel it is cruel to pose that question to 6th graders. Not everyone knows what they want to be at that age. And to peg someone as a failure if they don't make Gymnasium? That is harsh. I want my child to have a childhood, like I had.

I wish that I could give my son the gift of three months of doing nothing. Summer vacation here is only eight weeks long, and falls on September--dab smack during the rainy season in the Philippines. How can he enjoy going back home when all he has rain, while knowing it is summer back in Germany? He will never know the pleasure of a chilly, rainy, tropical bed weather, so welcome after a scorching summer.

The best I can do is to show him, "son, this is what it means to be Filipino." I can give him my nationality (at least until he is 18) I can show him what it means to be Filipino (which not a lot of my countrymen have the luxury to think about). Then I can hope.

Time for a cool change

Thinking about the changes that have happened in my life, and the changes happening in my life right now have made me think: Maybe it's time to accept that I'm not who I used to be. I am a mom. I like cooking. I live a boring suburban life now.

Maybe it's time to incorporate that on my blog too.

Deutsch Überall

Ich war gestern beim Stern-TV Reportage mit Gunter Jauch eingeschaltet, mit dem üblichem Thema warum scheitert die Integration von Leute mit arabischem/türkischem Hintergrund.

Nein, ich werde nicht verallgemeinern und sagen muslimischen Hintergrund. Es gibt genugend Muslime, z.B. aus Indonesien, die hier in Deutschland anscheinend gut integriert sind. Es kann auch sein, dass es nur wenige gibt.

Ein so-genannten "Experte" behauptet, dass die Integration scheitert, weil diese Kinder und deren Eltern sprechen nur Arabisch/Türkisch zu hause. Noch jemandem meinte, dass diese Leute haben keinen Zugang zu der Gesellschaft, weil sie nur mit arabischen Leute/Geschäfte zu tun haben wollen.

Moment. Da muss ich mein Widerspruch einlegen. Warum ist plötzlich Mehrsprachigkeit schuld? Ich bin selbst Mehrsprachig, mein Sohn ist ein "deutscher mit Migrationshintergrund." Wir sprechen Englisch (leider kein Arabisch) zu Hause. Es gibt genügend Kurde und vietnamesischen Familien in Erfurt, und ich weiß, dass diese Leute, obwohl sie ihre Heimatsprache bei ihnen sprechen, sie legen sehr viel wert drauf, dass ihren Kinder gut Deutsch sprechen. In einem Dönerladen in unserer Nähe verweigert sich sogar der Besitzer Kurdisch mit seinem Sohn zu sprechen, was ich auch für falsch halte weil er nur schlechtes Deutsch spricht.

Diese Leute sind nicht schlecht Integriert, und sind völlig dabei und präsent in der Gesellschaft. Aber warum scheitert sie in anderen Orte, und in mehreren Fälle?

Erstens, Ostdeutschland hat einem schlechtem Ruf, und viele Ausländer trauen sich nicht, hierher zu wohnen, wenn sie nicht bereit zu Integration sind.

Zweitens, wie der ein Gast sagte, sie wollen nur mit arabischen Leute/Geschäfte zu tun haben.

Und da ist der Knackpunt. Wie viele von diesen Menschen sind bereit, sich zu integrieren? Sie sind nicht anders als die Deutschen die ständig in anderen Länder Deutschland suchen. Es gibt genügend Deutsche in Spanien, die nur sehr schlecht oder gar kein Spanisch beherrscht.

Ich werde nicht behaupten, dass es kein Problem mit Integration gibt. Das haben wir. Aber die Ursache ist eher die Unbereitschaft von dieser Menschen, die Sitte von ihrer alten Heimat loszulassen. Und das, finde ich, nur in Europa als problematisch betrachtet, und zwar spezifisch zu dieser Gruppe. Zu recht.

Es gibt Chinatowns überall auf dieser Welt, und wieviele deutsche Enklave gibt es in anderen Länder? Aber nur diese Gruppe neigt zu Gewalt. Warum?

Pinxploitation

In countries where corruption is high and the women are beautiful, the beauty pageants are a much awaited event. Local beuty queens earn the status of celebrities, and national beauty queens use their crowns to gain leverage to bolster their status in society. Look at Imelda Marcos.

So is it any wonder that Filipinos are glued to their sets during the a) Binibining Pilipinas and b) Miss Universe beauty pageants? It's practically a holiday for swishy gays, who mark their calendars, hold sleepovers, and call in sick, just to watch the Miss Universe pageants.


You've probably seen this video already. Especially the 2:17 mark.

The beauty of it is that it's all sooo queenie. First of all, who would film themselves watching a TV show to preserve their actions for posterity? Drama queens, that's who. But thank God because we've caught the most hilarious Miss Universe reaction ever that actually probably happened in every pink bedroom in the Philippines.

Then they gotta go ruin it by making a buck off it.



Well, I wouldn't turn down a wad of money thrown at my feet either.

We're Here, We're Queer...you know the rest

I tried to fill an Adam-sized hole in this year's CSD celebrations, figuring they would need one more warm body with his absence. I had pretty huge shoes to fill!


The Gay and Lesbian Parents booth. They meant well, but it was poorly located. What, a playground under the scorching sun? I noticed that they were all lesbian parents, but no gay parents.



Discover nature's power. Wooden dildos!



Wir sind viele! There's a lot of us out there! I talked to the organizers and told them that their slogan sounded more like a threat. They said that this is a nationwide HIV-awareness campaign, and explained that what they meant was that the gay community is diverse but united in their HIV awareness campaign.



Rosa statt braun--Pink not Brown, an anti-nazi slogan. Actually, I took this pic to capture the Adam Lambert double at the foreground.



There's an organization for everybody.



You're preaching to the choir, honey. Thuringia needs diversity.



Shots from "Queer Walk," A very unprofessionally-organized "fashion show" that was "meant to show that gays and lesbians come in all shapes and sizes." but actually it was more of a joke, meant to bring a party atmosphere into the event. It gave a very intimate mood, like a school play performed by your son's kindergarten class.



Hut!

Was Heißt Integration?

In Europe, for example, bilingualism is seen favorably but people have very high standards for who should be considered bilingual. The latter should have perfect knowledge of their languages, have no accent in them, and even, in some countries, have grown up with their two (or more) languages. At that rate, very few people consider themselves bilingual even though, in Switzerland for example, the majority of the inhabitants know and use two or more languages in their everyday life.
--François Grosjean, Professor Emeritus at Neuchâtel University (Switzerland)

Manchmal, ich weiss nicht warum ich mir die Mühe gebe, Deutsch zu lernen oder zu sprechen.

Manchmal, ich finde es demutigend, wenn ich von meiner Schweigermutter oder von irgendjemand höre, dass mein Deutsch immer noch nicht fehlerfrei ist. "Obwohl du schon seit 4 Jahren in Deutschland bist!"

Manchmal, ich habe wirklich keine Lust mehr, mit jemandem auf Deutsch zu unterhalten. Wozu? Wenn ich eh kein "vernünftiges Deutsch" spreche. Hab ich nicht schon genug getan und gemacht, die sprache zu beherrschen? Könnt ihr behaupten, dass ihr 3 andere Sprachen noch nebenbei sprechen? Ich finde eure Englisch lächerlich, aber ich sag auch nichts. Ich korrigiere nur wenn ich a) im Klassenzimmer bin b) wenn der Fehler das Verständnis behindert.

Korregieren ist schon gut, aber wenn ihr vor meinem Gesicht lacht weil ich ein "niedliches" Wort erfunden habe, verliere ich die Lust, weiter Deutsch zu lernen. Ich lese "Die Zeit" aber "du liest immer noch keine deutsche Bücher." Sagt ihr. Mein Gott, ich Kann Hertha Müller nicht leiden. Na und?? Heißt das das ich deswegen ungebildet bin? Ich hab Die Mütter Mafia gerne gelesen. Na und? Warum zählt das nicht als ein deutsches Buch?

Ich wollte eh kein Deutsch lernen. Ich musste weil ich mich für einen deutschen Mann entschieden habe. Vielleicht sollte ich meine Mühe an Spanisch geben, da ich mit der Sprache verliebt bin. Da ich mit meinem Name eh eher in Spanien gehöre.

Das ist der Grund warum ich die Deutsche Staatsbürgerschaft nicht annehme. Weil ich das Gefühl habe, nicht hier zu gehören, oder die Leute um mich vermitteln das Gefühl, das ich immer noch hier Fremd bin. Ich bin nicht ganz Filipino mehr, aber noch keine Deutsche. Vielleicht wenn ich ein Roman auf Deutsch schreiben könnte, werdet ihr mich endlich akzeptieren.

I Wanna Travel Around the World, Too!

I remember reading the book Eat, Pray, Love a few years ago, and liking it. I don't have a mad crush on it like I do for say, Lolita, but I like it enough, like the way I like a warm fuzzy blanket. My reading tastes tend to be so extreme. I like Edgar Allan Poe, even when he's talking about beating hearts under footboards and walling somebody up in a dungeon, so I sometimes like to cancel it out with the wooly little blankets like The Time Traveler's Wife.

Because of the hype surrounding the movie Eat, Pray, Love, I re-read the book and discovered that I still liked it. It's an adventure book for girls, not unlike the Nancy Drew detective stories of my youth. Nancy Drew was a detective, but she was also a girly-girl. If anything, some of the issues mentioned in the book resonated to me even more now than they did a few years ago, still in my twenties and childless.

So I don't understand the Eat, Pray, Love hate going around. The word >narcissist is being thrown out there a lot. Self-involved too. The author Elizabeth Gilbert has a career that I would kill to have, and she was paid a hefty advance by her publisher to travel around the world, then write about her year abroad to heal from her divorce.

This is an ugly side of the American public that I don't like. Americans take their entertainment pretty seriously, talking about yesterday's episode of Mad Men the next day in the office. Germans are exactly the opposite, and it is no wonder that German TV is the way it is: A 24-hour Discovery Channel special. Any talk about pop culture is considered shallow and embarassing. Many would rather talk about or pretend to like Schiller and Goethe. So when they like a TV show, they LOVE it. They hate it, they HATE it. I swear like a stevedore, but I don't like to throw the words bitch or cunt around, aimed especially at other people. Especially against people I don't know. But there is that word. Liz Gilbert, bitch. narcissist.

Look, there is nothing wrong about thinking about yourself first before helping other people. There are people who are naturally giving, a wellspring of generosity that can be mistaken for being a doormat. But not everybody is like that. I cannot give if I don't have anything to give. Germans sometimes comment on how selfish it is of me to eat first before breastfeeding Antonio, or to send Antonio to a Tagesmutti for seven hours before he's a year old. First of all, none of your business. Second, I need to work because my government money has run out. Third, I need to be around adults again, stat. I like to think of it as the airplane oxygen mask policy. In the event of rapid depressurization, you have to put the mask over yourself first before you assist your neighbor. Giving when you have nothing is mighty noble, but very few people work that way.

As for the book, no, Liz Gilbert is not a narcissist. In fact, she is the opposite. She is a seeker of adventure, curious. I find her highly entertaining, and people who never set foot in a third world country have no idea what it's really like, so they don't have to damn the part of the book where she buys a house for an Indonesian lady. It was a private act of generosity, and since it is a memoir, she had to write about it. Believe me, I know a narcissist when I see it, I used to live with one. It's not like she hurt anybody doing the thing she loves. I think that if she didn't leave her really nice husband, if she had a child even if her inner voice told her don't do it, she would be as unhappy as the closet queen next door, and we don't need another miserable human being in this world because s/he isn't being true to their person. And she would have hurt even more people in the process.

Ants in the Pants

My mom and I were talking on the phone when she told me about how bothered my sister was over an SMS my sister read in my niece's phone. If you're weirded out as to why my sister was snooping around her daugher's phone, you have to understand that we come from a very paranoid and neurotic family. My mother could have been a Stasi spy, I swear.

"She read that Christen was texting a male classmate about the love scene in the Twilight movie!"

"So what ma, that is no big deal."

"No big deal?!"

I have to say though that my views on sexuality is very liberal for Filipino standards, they always have been.

"I guess I'm too German already," I said as an explanation. "Kids as early as 12 get to see sex scenes in movies at school."

"But she's only 10!"

"But see, that's the reason why they lose ther virginity at age 12!"

I remember thinking back to the time when I promised myself that this would never happen to my child. I still find the thought disturbing, but now I am a bit more...open-minded.

"Well that's not true for everybody here. That still depends on upbringing. Thomas did not lose his virginity at age 12. In fact, he was a late-bloomer. Besides, what's better, sex at 12, or teenaged pregnancy?"

My mom was silent, because I hit a nerve. "She just doesn't want her daughter to end up like her, you know."

That's what I find ridiculous about the hypocrisy going on. My sister throws a fit when a commercial even shows a whiff of immorality when her life is as unorthodox as it comes. I understand where she's coming from though. I guess my family is not yet ready for sex-ed.

Another friend of mine, also a Filipina, is incredulous that her 15-year old stepdaughter is desperate to lose her virginity. Their relationship resembles the mom and daughter in Forty Year-old Virgin. "Hello, that's normal! She's fifteen! Don't you remember the time when you just wanted to get it over with? I certainly do."

The German lassez-faire approach to teen sexuality appeals to me because I believe that teens are gonna fool around, there's nothing I can do to stop it, and I'd rather that they'd do it in a way that is safe for everybody involved.

Get back to me in 13 years though.

Potty Training and Socialism

Ask an East German about the GDR, especially those who are not exactly adapting to capitalist life so well, and s/he will most likely get defensive about how much better everything is "in former times."

Do you know that when four month old babies were shipped off to day care during the GDR, they were potty trained at the tender age of eight months? No, I am not kidding. After recess, they were all made to sit on a communal potty trench, very much like the communal outhouse huts in China I remember reading about. They were not allowed to go until they were done with business.

I have nothing against this method. Whatever floats your boat, I say. I was shocked when I was told of this, when I read about it, since I am pretty sure my parents started us off at the two year mark, if I remember my brother's potty training correctly. I've read that while kids can be trained to take a crap at such a young age, it is more a matter of "catching the right moment" and conditioning them to move the poop when they feel the toilet seat under them than free will. Of course avoiding diaper rash and washing all those dirty diapers is a good thing, but I would like to wait until my baby says he is ready.

Anyhow, MIL is trying to convince me that Antonio is ready for potty training. "I trained my kids to go to the potty as soon as they can stand." she says. Yesterday, I let Antonio hang in the breeze while I was running his bath. The pedia says that a baby should hang diaperless for a few hours a day to avoid diaper rash. He managed to shit on the carpet in these two diaperless minutes after marinating in his pee for four hours! MIL says that this is Antonio's way of signaling that he likes doing his business WITHOUT his diapers on. I think this is a one-time freak occurence. Parents of the world, when did you start potty training your kids, and why did you decide to do it when you did it?

While You Were Sleeping

I am a worry wart.

I listen to parents tell me to "enjoy my child," things go by so fast.

And they do.

Antonio, within a span of a few days, was able to sit up on his own, then prop himself up to a standing position. At his pace, I'll be a grandma in a few weeks.

Sure, he is a pain in the ass sometimes, but I don't mind, as long as he's still a baby.

For this reason, I am so glad that I live in a country that lets me savor these few precious moments with my baby.

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking, like Emily Webb, stop, it's all going by too fast.

Ang Paglalakbay ng Videoke Tourist

Mahilig ba kayong mag-videoke? Minsan, kapag nag-vivideoke ako, natutuwa akong makita yung mga retrato sa background. Kasi hindi ko na kailangang gumastos ng pera para maglakbay sa malalayong lugar!

Minsan, may kumanta ng Modern Talking, may Koreanang babae na nag-tatampisaw sa karagatan ng Boracay noong 1992. O yung babaeng blond chaka yung lalakeng brown ang buhok na nag-lalandian sa San Francisco kapag lumalabas yung "Zombie" ng Cranberries. Tuwang-tuwa ako noong nakarating akong Prague kasi talagang yun na yun ang hitsura niya sa videoke na kinanta ko minsan!

Noong nag-cable car kami sa San Francisco, natawa na lang ako, at sinabing, "nakita ko na ito sa videoke!"

--
Die Reise von einer Videoketourist

Videoke singen ist eine von meiner Lieblingstätigkeit. Es macht mich froh, wenn ich die Hintergrundsbilder anguke. Ich brauche kein Geld,um reisen zu können!

Ich hab einmal zugeschaut, als ein Mann ein Lied von Modern Talking gesungen hat, und am hintergrund war eine Koreanische Frau die im Meer spielt. Es war Boracay in 1992! Oder ein flirtendes Paar in San Francisco als ich "Zombie" von den Cranberries gesungen hab. Ich hab sogar Sehenswurdigkeiten in Prag erkannt weil ich sie mal im Videoke sah!

Deswegen als ich das Cable Car in San Francisco mitfuhr, dachte ich, ich hatte das hier schon im Videoke gesehen!

Freeze Dried Space Ice Cream

"Amazingly, the ice cream sandwich looks and tastes like the original. As you eat the sandwich, your mouth rehydrates the ice cream, restoring it to its original state."

NOT. From the Atomic Testing Museum, one of the most interesting museums I've been in a while. Adam, you'll love it. The museum will speak to anyone who grew up during the Cold War. Now I'm thinking of giving my extra pack either as a prize, or as a moving away present.