Die Wochenendebeziehung

Ich habe ein Geheimnis von euch versteckt. Wie millionen anderen Paaren in Deutschland, Thomas und ich führen eine Wochenendebeziehung. Er arbeitet als Leistungserhöher (wenn es den Begriff überhaupt gibt), ein Art von Consultant, in die Schweiz. Ich bleibe hier in Erfurt als Englischlehrerin. Wir sehen uns nur am Wochenende, und sogar nur für einundhalb Tage.

Ich rede immer von einem Leben zusammen, aber seit ende Mai diesem Jahr, wir haben nur am Fritag um 23 Uhr bis 14 Uhr am Sonntag Zeit.

Es tut schon weh für uns. Es tut mir Leid wenn ich sehe wie eine acht stunde Reise ihm belastet. Ich kann nicht richtig schlafen wenn er nicht hier ist, aber was sollst? Wir sind jung, und wir haben Karriere, Ziele, und Traüme. Und Kinder, Hof, und Küche ist noch nicht Priorität. Es klingt egoistisch, es ist aber so.

Es war wirklich schwerig am Anfang. Ich war neu in Erfurt, alle Leute waren Fremd. Ich hatte nur meine Arbeit. Ich habe schon allein gewohnt, ich hatte meine eigene Wohnung in die Philippinen. Aber diese neue Einsamkeit war fast unerträglich, weil natürlich ich schon mit einem Leben zur Zweit gewohnt bin. Die Erwartungen, die ich hatte, war eine Wohnung mit zwei Leute. Die Enttäuschung war irgenwie besonders schwerig. In die Phlippinen, Manila war der Ort, wo alle Sache herkommen. In Deutschland, in Europa, Dezentralisation bedeutet, dass Gelegenheiten irgendwoanders liegen kann.

Ich kann nicht umziehen weil sein Vertrag nur bis Dezember läuft. Wir wissen nicht, wo sein nächsten Auftrag ist. Ich glaube, dass unsere Beziehung stark genug ist, und solche Situationen werden unsere Beziehung nicht belasten. Aber die Hoffnung bleibt, dass wir irgenwann in einer Stadt arbeiten und wohnen würden.

Finally...the One?

One book that led me to view life from another frame of mind was "The Commitment," by Dan Savage. He put into question our concept of a "successful marriage." According to him, "til death do us part" marriages are not necessarily happy nor fruitful. There are several marriages, like his own parents', that did not withstand the test of time but from all aspects were actually successful.

Thomas and I had a dicussion last year about the fate of our relationship. He said that should a point in time come that we aren't happy together anymore, we shouldn't view our relationship with regret. That I, in case we break up, should not think that our journey together was a waste of time.

At that time, I didn't understand him, and I viewed his belief as a sort of defense mechanism developed by kids of broken marriages. I viewed it then suspiciously, like the way I viewed pre-nuptial agreements back then.

Reading my old posts about how I wanted my future husband to be makes me laugh! They sound so childish and immature, familiar and yet alien. Was this me? Was I really that crazy? Thomas, if anything, is the opposite of the guy with whom I imagined myself married. The guy I wanted to be with is moneyed, articulate, well-read, a city boy. Thomas is proud of the fact that aside from his school textbooks, he has only read one book his entire life, The Da Vinci Code. I met Thomas as a "poor German student," now he is a "stuggling young professional." Thomas is not verbally articulate, and we settled here in Erfurt as a compromise. He hates big cities.

Yet, we get along really well. We can occupy the same space for extended periods of time without killing each other. Are we two halves of a whole? Probably not. I would describe our relationship like a fusion dish. You never thought that chili and chocolate would taste so good together, but they do! I guess if ended up with my New York Kinda Guy, he would be so insufferable that we would implode.

Before Thomas, I was really wounded by a guy. On paper, we sounded so compatible. We liked books, we were both into the arts, we were both geeks. We wined and dined, and made love because I felt, this was it, he was the one. I rushed into things so strongly that I was blind to the fact that this guy was a neurotic who could crash into a hysterical breakdown at any moment.

So is Thomas the one? Could be. I don't know. I'm not saying. But it's fun having him along for the ride.

Everything fell into place.

Come to think of it, there was never really a definite point in time when he asked me to marry him.

We just knew.

There was no proposal, no 5,000 € engagement ring, no flowers, no bended knees. I guess we're not romantic like that.

It was a fact that we took for granted. I guess it started when we were still living in the Philippines, when sentences like, "I want to name our daughter ---" or "What will happen then when we get married?" started winding its way into our conversations, about four months into the relationship.

This weird inner knowledge that we were going to end up together saw us through our toughest times, like when his father didn't sign the affidavit of support so I could get my German visa, when a land mass separated us for four months.

And even during our darkest moments last year, when I was thinking about calling it quits, he was most determined to keep the relationship going. He refused to accept that I was going to call it quits because of a mistake he made, and negating all of the hard work we have invested in a relationship he knew hasn't yet reached its peak.

We had no definite plans of when to do it, but we knew it was going to happen.

Then came the time that we had to do it. We shrugged our shoulders and said, why not? We want to get married anyway.

We wanted to have a proper wedding here in Germany, but many things came in the way. German bureaucracy, internal family problems. So we said, "Screw it, we're going to Vegas, baby!"

We rented a car, and took a week off from work and drove to Denmark. No parents, no friends. It was just me and him. Just how we wanted it. Just how we have always done it. Me and him.

We always get by with a little help from our friends. Thank you for supporting us!

Our Dirty Little Secrets

Warning: Adult Content

What women like me don't understand about men is how they think that we're hypersensitive jealous insecure bitches on PMS. That we are not normal, that we're from another planet, that we won't understand.

For example, Thomas's friend Sophie once discovered all of her boyfriend's porn as she was tinkering (with his permission)on his computer. It was hidden under an innocuous title. And she laughed.

"I don't get it with men," she said. "Why would he think that I would be offended if I knew he downloaded porn? Every normal guy I know downloads porn!"

And for some reason, men don't like to acknowledge that women masturbate.

People who have read my blog from the very beginning know that I like porn. You all know that this blog started out as an anonymous sex blog until I had to give up the ghost because I was discovered. You all know that I am very comfortable with myself and my sexuality. Thomas knows all that, and we're together partly because he was the only boyfriend I've had who was actually more than ok with the fact that I wash my dirty linen online.

I think it's cute that he sometimes asks me for permission to masturbate. "Is it ok sweetie? I feel like it and I hope you're not angry."

Of course I'm not angry. I completely understand. While I prefer sex zur zweit, there are times when I want to spend some quiet time by myself, and do some good old-fashioned Selbstbefriedigung. One great thing about our relationship is that we are willing to let the other person alone when he or she wants to be left alone.

I won't get much into detail, but I will let these things slip. He is, uh, aided by his computer, and I have a favorite pillow that I always have around when I do my thing.

However, Thomas has come to hate the pillow. "Nimm den Feind weg!" He exclaims, tossing the pillow to the other end of the room at bedtime. Sometimes, when I have the pillow beside me before I go to sleep, I will find it pushed to the floor when I wake up. I think it's hilarious. I have an idea why he feels threatened, but there goes the theory that women are hypersensitive jealous insecure bitches on PMS. Maybe we should be looking at the men!

The Bride Wore Purple

Wir sind jetzt verheiratet!

Welcome to the '80s!

First up, hanapin niyo ako sa Chuvaness! Nakakatuwa!



It's a bit late, but Thomas and I were invited to an '80s party last July 27. It was a lot of fun and I went as



Aja from Jem and the Holograms! It wasn't an accurate costume, but what the hey.



Thomas as some random 80s dude. No, actually he's wearing his father's wedding tux, sans the coat. So his outfit really came from the 80s. Styling: Arashi-Kishu



This woman was so chica I wish I thought of her outfit. She kinda reminds me of Janeane Garofalo. Janeane was so pretty before all of the plastic surgery, and hella funny.



I thought that they were well-dressed as well.

The guys generally didn't put as much effort into their outfits as the girls (boo!) although, there was some random guy who I think came as one of the Flock of Seagulls.

A Eulogy for Mommy

Taken during Mommy's Oathtaking. Ipinanganak siyang Pinoy at namatay siyang Amerikano.

Hello everybody. It pains me that I can’t be there right now physically, but I am with you in spirit.

Nita Llorente, Tita Nitz to you and Mommy to her family, was a very important person in my life. She, along with my grandfather shaped the person who I am today. It has determined my career, my life, and the road I have travelled. With them gone, I truly feel that I have been orphaned.

Her departure was very unexpected. We all know mommy to be a very healthy and vibrant person, tough as nails, always game, up for anything. In fact, she was at a party hours before she passed. That was typical of mommy. I never saw her sick or weak. I think she also didn’t want others to see her that way, so she decided to trump old age, in order gave us a memory of a very alive, very active mommy.

Come to think of it, mommy left the world in the same way she lived her life: She was a very impatient woman, always in a hurry, “Bahala na si Batman,” Schnell, schnell schnell! My mommy is not difficult woman to understand. For better or for worse, she is, at her very core, Filipino.

I would like to relate several anecdotes that show the quintessential mommy, at her best and the worst. Mommy is the kind of woman who can strike up a conversation anytime, with anyone. She has so much “P.R.,” my people skills are miniscule compared to the PR that she had. She gained valuable contacts, given away bottles of noni wine, and even my old cellphone, just because she had the happy accident of sitting next to someone, somewhere.

The last time mommy and I spent good, quality time together was the summer of 2004. Since I was a child, she promised that she would take me to her hometown of Carigara, Leyte. It was the place where she grew up, and where her family hid during the second world war. The prospect of travel excited me, and I asked her about it every summer. Ten years of promises later, she finally said that this was the year and off we were. She packed her suitcase full of clothes. “Mommy, why don’t you use a duffel bag?” “Ayoko,” she said. And that was that.

We first spent a few days in Cebu, where I cajoled and begged her to go to Malapascua, an island north of Cebu, touted in a magazine article I read as “the next Boracay.”At first she refused, but she thankfully changed her mind. With no clue and no place to stay, we left at noon, on Maundy Thursday. We took a non-airconditioned bus from Cebu City to Bogo, the next city before reaching the tip of Cebu island. We got there at 4 p.m. Because it was Holy Week, there were no more buses or FX taxis that would take us to the shore. We discussed the matter for a bit before Mommy said, “Let’s take the habal-habal!”

For those who don’t know, a habal-habal is nothing more than a motorcycle used as a public utility vehicle. Straddle yourself behind the driver, say a quick prayer, and off you go. Because of the lack of easy public transportation in the provinces, there are the most accessible means of movement.

After negotiating a 50 peso fare, the driver said yes and scratched his head, trying to figure out how we were all going to fit on the motorcycle.

Imagine this: A motorcycle. On it were a suitcase, the driver, mommy, then me, with a heavy backpack! I had to endure a 30 minute ride through unpaved jungle road as the handlebar at the end of the motorcycle seat poked uncomfortably at my tailbone. I clung to mommy, desperately trying not to fall off.

We got to the end of Cebu island, and we were able to easily charter a motorboat to take us to Malapascua. With her knowledge of Cebuano, mommy started chatting with a young man, who turned out to be the son of the boat’s owner. We said that we didn’t have a place to stay, and asked whether we could stay at his house. I wanted to shush up mommy, because I felt she was pushing her luck, but surprisingly, he said yes! He offered us to stay in his house, for free! Ang galing ni mommy no?

Our Malapascua experience was the best part of the trip. Even mommy said so.

As we moved on to other islands like Leyte, through meandering bus trips through winding roads, I felt I got to know mommy more. I guess this was God’s way of giving us time to get to truly know each other, because it was next to the last time we saw each other. We passed through Ormoc on our way to Carigara, where I was to be introduced to her relatives. She told me that she studied first grade in Negros, because her father had business there. She told me many other stories, the war, her relatives. We spoke about how our lives have turned out. We spoke about my grandfather. Most of the time, however, I just listened and tried to learn as much about this woman as I can. It is this summer that will be forever etched in my memory.

We are all the more poorer for having lost her, but heaven has gained a woman rich in passion, imagination and creativity. I love you mommy. We all do.

Thank you for teaching me about life, giving me love and protecting me. Thank you for teaching me about antiques, about beads and tamburin. Thank you for teaching me how to appreciate culture. Thank you for the afternoons we spent together at Treasure House. Thank you for taking me to Tita Ting’s old house in Horseshoe Village. Thank you for teaching me how to make ampaw and loofah. Thank you for cooking breakfast for me. Thank you for giving me jewelry that I always misplaced as a child. I will always treasure the coral necklace you gave me. Thank you, thank you. I know you know how much I loved you, and how grateful that you loved me too.

I would also like to ask everybody to say a prayer for Mommy, and to thank her for whatever she has given you, whether it be friendship, her company, or even for just knowing her. We are all the more richer for having known Juanita Conchas Llorente.

We Don't Need No Religion

Before my grandma passed away, my aunt sent me a package containing my SLR camera, Filipino noodles, and old issues of Kerygma, a very popular Filipino Christian/Catholic magazine.

The presence of these magazines in the package raised my eyebrows mile-high. I am in my second year of "living in sin" with Thomas, and I have absolutely no regrets. Despite my Catholic schoolgirl upbringing, I have abandoned my inhibitions about sex and my Catholic schoolgirl masturbation guilt. I know that my family will never see it the way that I do, that living a morally upright and spiritual life CAN be mutually exclusive from religion. I had the distinct feeling that the magazines in that package were a secret jab at my life decision of moving to Germany and living with somebody who is not only NOT Catholic, but doesn't have a religion.

People may think that it's a bit hypocritical of me to still be a regular churchgoer and live my lifestyle. I actually don't see it that way.

There was a time in my late teens and early 20s when I tried my darndest to fit myself into the Catholic mold. I worked for a Catholic magazine and a Catholic news organization. But try as I might, I never fit in. I just didn't believe in everything that the Catholic Church said, and still says. I once had a very enlightening discussion with an old co-worker about religion. People may leave because of misbehaving priests and other church scandals, but my ex-officemate said it the best:

"People who lose faith because of priests have a very shallow faith in the first place. You don't go to Church because of the institution, the institution is human and therefore weak. You go to church because you believe. If you believe in God, why would you base your faith on other people's actions within the Church?"

That hit a nerve. And you know what? Despite the Catholic Church and all its failings, I believe in God. I like going to church. I like the peace it gives me. I am aware that the priests are human. They make mistakes, some unforgivable. But why should I let the institution tarnish what I believe in? I grew up with the Catholic model of a God, so what is the point of changing?

Two months ago, I got into a discussion in Jena with a Brit who grew up in Switzerland. I generally avoid talking about religion, but this guy was fascinated by it and talked of nothing but. I told him of my belief that if Thomas's mom had some form of religion, she would be in a better state emotionally after her separation with her husband. Three years after and she is still as broken up about it as if it were yesterday.

He said that his father found religion after his divorce. With a fascinated tone, he revealed that although his father was not deeply religious, he became an active Anglican after his separation and his emotional healing was apparently very fast.

I offered my two cents. "It's the feeling of being needed, I think. It's the knowing, through these organizations, that there are worse problems than your own." He agreed.

Thomas may not be religious, but he respects my Catholic faith and goes to Church with me. He doesn't have a religion, but he does believe in a God. I will probably raise my children in the Catholic faith, but I won't pressure them to be Catholic. They may choose to be Buddhist or Muslim or Agnostic, I don't care. As long as they are good people with good hearts, that is all that matters. After all, being religious doesn't automatically mean that you are a good person.

I am convinced that although I have not taken the straight and narrow path, I am still innately a good and moral person. And Nobody is going to convince me otherwise.
-------------------
Related articles:


Cacioppo directing study on health benefits derived from spiritual beliefs



Societies worse off 'when they have God on their side'

Am I the Only One Who Doesn't Like "Weeds?"

Everybody has been raving about the new TV show "Weeds," and I gave it a whirl. Unfortunately, I was very disappointed by the show. Oooh, pot-selling mom, how edgy! Hah! Is that your definition of edgy? A pot-dealing mom who is the only sane person in the whole series? How formulaic. Everything was so predictable. The idealized dead father, the screw-up brother, the black marijuana wholesalers, the adults who refuse to grow up, the not-everything-is-what-it-seems suburbs (sorry, American Beauty and The Ice Storm covered that territory already, repeated ad nauseum in different TV shows and movies). Even the deux ex machina of a case of Diet Coke falling from the sky was so fucking predictable. That was supposed to be sarcastic? Ho-hum. It has its funny moments but I gave up after the fourth episode.

If you really want a really dark, sarcastic comedy, watch the Danish film They Eat Dogs in China. But I'm afraid viewing it would give the average middle American an aneurysm.

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A meme from Presea

My Lakbayan grade is C!

How much of the Philippines have you visited? Find out at Lakbayan!

Created by Eugene Villar.

I love you, mommy

From Left: Tita Lulu, My Mother, Tito Jag, Tito Nonoy, My Mommy, Grace, Tita Bingo, a cousin.

You raised me, you taught me almost everything that I know. You were flawed, but you were perfect. You were my grandmother,but you were the best mother I could have ever had. Thanks, I love you, and I will miss you. I'm sorry you didn't get to meet him, that you can't come to Denmark now. I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I hope, no, I know you would understand.

Juanita Conchas Llorente, 3 Jan 1928-4 Aug 2007

The Day I Lost My Voice

It has been a strange, sad, and wonderful year. I have reached many milestones, and I am at a wonderful place in my life. Then why am I not writing more often?

Change is the mother of reinvention, and I am in the midst of it. I may have not posted any exciting news, or given up sex stories, or served up anecdotes of my new life in Germany. But it certainly doesn't mean that my life has reached a plateau. No, far from it.

I guess I have come to a point where I don't really want to be an open wound anymore. I have always refused to divulge every mundane detail of my life in my blog. My blog has always been story-oriented in the first place. However, I don't want to show a broken and angry person. Frenetic and exciting as my life was, I am no longer like that.

There was a point, months ago, where I realized that I was in the midst of another identity crisis. Who was I, in this new and frightening place? Just as I asked myself a few years ago, where was my place in the sun? This particular sun was cold and fraught with challenges. I was alone, and yet dependent on one person. It was a very discomfiting place to be. Me, who has always been so independent.

I realized that there was no longer a "me." The me that existed in Manila will never survive in this new environment. So I decided to clam up. I have to, have to, find this new voice before telling my new stories. I stopped writing altogether when I realized this truth.

I am slowly laying roots in this strange country that I will never call my own. I have realized that I may live here a thousand years, but this place can never be my Heimat. Distance from the Philippines has made me realize how Filipino I really am, how proud and how embarrassed I am of us. I was quite surprised at how much I actually know about my country. I can say that I know the Philippines more than the average Filipino.It's quite sad that a lot of people in my generation living in the Philippines know very little about our culture and history. I think that this identity will help shape the new voice that I will develop in the future.

I am looking forward to the day I will start writing again, with a new solid voice that's completely my own.

Language Guilt

I have to admit that my knowledge of the English language is threatening my new-found German literacy. Because I teach English all the time, I hardly get to practice my German. My knowledge is something that will not likely disappear as long as I call this place home.

I have this recurring guilt everytime I pass by the bookstore in front of my workplace. What used to be a place of pleasure has turned into a battleground of choices. Being the (sometimes) indecisive Libra that I am, I sometimes struggle when I pick up a book: should I opt the easy way out and read the English version, or struggle my way through with German? The oh so easy temptation to pick up the English version is ever present.

To settle the matter, I created a self-imposed policy: I will only read German novels in German and English novels in English. The same applies for movies. I have decided that translations are evil. A tall task in a country where everything is translated. The special screening of Harry Potter in English is in itself a special treat. Apparently, many expats here feel the same way, who watched the movie just because they wanted an English oasis in this sea of German, like me an eternity ago. I remembered my frustration when I watched The Devil Wears Prada in German, because I couldn't relate to the lines spewed by the movie reviews I read.

In the end, I know I have to read German if I want to improve my new skills. I only wish for the patience when I plow through Two Brothers from Fürth.

P.S., Don't tell anyone, but I read Das Parfum auf Englisch.

Iba talaga ang Pinoy!

1,500 inmates of the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center in Cebu City, Cebu at practice! This is their special performance for the Cebuano governor.



Sister Act!


Specially for Filipinos!



Sa mga Bisaya gyud! Dayang Dayang! Hahaha! Ang jologs ko!



Pardon my language, pero tangina! LSS! "Jumbo Hotdog, kaya mo ba 'to?"

You Pay Now, Bitch!

There are people who were disturbed with so many profanities coming out of a baby's mouth, but I think this sketch is pure genius! The goddamned absurdity of it all, it's one of the funniest things I have seen in a while.

I heard that Pearl's parents have decided to put her into baby retirement. Understandable, and it was good while it lasted. Thanks, bitches!

Servicewüste Deutschland

The one thing in Germany that would spark a fifteen minute tirade from me--and snickers from my German students--is any mention at the service at Burger King and Mc Donalds.

I come from a place where a large bag of fries costs .50 euro cents. 50 freaking cents. You want ketchup? Sure! Here, have three packets! Do you want more? Better yet, the nice lady behind the counter will give you an empty plastic cup, and you can pump as much ketchup as you want from the ketchup pump in the condiments section. I come from a place where Mc Donalds still fry their fries in Beef Tallow.

In Germany, I don't mind the veggie fries, but what bugs me is that they charge fifteen fucking cents for every packet of ketchup. Fifteen cents! That's a jeepney ride back where I come from. You can buy a 200 g tube of tomato paste at the supermarket for 35 cents! What's the logic of charging 15 cents for a 15 ml packet of ketchup?

It angered me so much that I actually wrote a letter of indignation to the Mc Donalds Germany headquarters. (I tried searching for the letter in my inbox but suspiciously, the email has disappeared, even the copy of the letter I sent isn't in my sent inbox. hmmm...) They said something about the cost of production being too expensive.

And it's not just the service at Mc Donalds and Burger King. A co-teacher at Berlitz bought a pair of shoes at a store in Erfurt, whose name I will not mention. The shoes fell apart after a week. The store only refunded the shoes after he brought in another German-speaking teacher to referee the fight between him vs. the manager.

Besides that, the Zara store in Erfurt is a far cry from the Zara stores that I saw in France. There were dustbunnies making babies in the corners of the dressing rooms, contrary to the German alles ist in Ordnung mentality. Not only that, the overworked teenaged salesperson was quite rude and snapped at us, saying that a particular dressing room is not available.

Come to think of it, there are a lot of very unfriendly salespeople in Germany. I understand that they don't really need the money, but geez, would it kill them to be nice?

That Funny English Language

There is really no other language that is as confusing, as contentious, as English

Working in a language school means that

a) You find out that there is no "one" English
b) Every teacher fancies himself an expert.

I never thought that we Filipinos had our "own" brand of English until I met these people. Jeff, a co-teacher called me over one day and said, "Hey Cathy, is it true that you use the word 'officemate' in the Philippines?"

Now in the dark, cobwebbed corners of my mind, the word 'officemate' made complete sense. Classmate is somebody who you study with, so why not use the word 'officemete' to describe somebody you work with? Besides, I thought that we Filipinos spoke American English?

"Yeah why? It's not used in America?"

"No." He then showed me the Wikipedia webpage on Filipino English, where a number of the words that I took for granted as "universal English" were actually "Filipinizations," if the word exists!

One time I wanted to use a "signpen" to sign a paper, so I asked Michelle, a Canadian teacher, if she had one.

"What's a signpen?"

"You know, a pen with ink."

"You mean a ballpoint pen?"

"No, a ballpoint pen is a ballpen. What I need is a pen with ink flowing from it."

Andrew from New Zealand asked, "You mean a fountain pen?"

"Kind of," I explained, "except that a fountain pen has a funny nib."

"You mean tip?" asked a perplexed Andrew!
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The corkboard in the teacher's room has become a minefield of jokes and confusion. Adam walked in one day after another teacher from New Zealand posted a photo with the words "Walking off in a strop" (Read: Walking away in a huff). He did a double-take and asked, "What's that?"

It is now ground zero the battle is now brewing between us and them, the "Brit boys" and American English speakers.

It all started in the teacher's room when Julian from England said that he doesn't drink coffee.

"Me neither." I said.

"'Me neither' is wrong," said Cain from England.

Hamish from Australia said, "I have never used the words 'me neither' until I got here. Where I come from, it's 'me either'."

I hate being corrected when I know I'm right, so I later asked Diane from New York (she has a Long Island accent) to back me up. She was kind enough to produce a piece of paper from the Teacher's Book stating the words "Me neither" is a valid response. I photocopied it, circled the item of interest with a red marker and underlined the words "ME NEITHER." The next day I saw that Hamish scrawled the words, "But that's Berlitz English, not proper English!" at the bottom of the page.

To clear things up, I presented the situation and asked everyone if they would use the words "me neither" in that situation. Andrew from Yorkshire (believe me, that's a whole other dialect), Bruce from New Zealand, and Earl from the US all confirmed that yes, "me neither" is not a mutant form of English. Apparently, the tiff ticked Diane off, who scrawled back "Sez you!" in red letters, just above Hamish's comment.

English is a funny, funny language. Don't get me started on German!

Nalulula Ako @@

Pray tell Tagalog speaking Filipino people, when do we use the pronounKita and Ka?

I was at a party last Saturday night/Sunday morning when I was introduced to Franzi, a Social Pedagogik student who will spend the next 10 months in Manila and Tagaytay working with street children as part of her practicum to become a social worker. I was so excited that I volunteered to teach her Tagalog. For free. Just to see if I can do it, just to see if I can teach in Tagalog as well.

There are no decent Tagalog books that I can order from here that would arrive on Thursday, so I have to make my on book. From scratch.

I welcome the challenge, but at the same time, nalulula ako. I may be in over my head here! I have custom-made a syllabus for a student before. But not from scratch. Hell, I'm no linguist! Not yet! Polyglot lang po ako.

Oh my gulay, I never thought that Tagalog had so many dialects. I know that my relatives in Cavite speak a funny Tagalog, should I teach that too? Siguro I'll stick to Leila's suggestion to keep it Manila "salitang kalye" Tagalog. Tulong!

Who Cares?

Sometimes I can't get over how shallow our world has become.

I was chatting yesterday with one of my friends over at YM.

Her: So, is the thing that's happening in Paris also making headlines there?

Now, my friend is a great gal, but she sometimes gets her prepositions wrong.

Me: What's happening in Paris? Sorry, I'm not updated, I haven't watched TV lately. You mean the elections?

Her: No, Paris Hilton!

Me: PARIS HILTON?!

Me. nobody cares!

Her: Well, they show live updates here.

(Me mentally:on Philippine TV!)

Me: Well, they show it on the news, I guess. But no live updates!

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Quite ironic that I find this amusing, because I was once a TV junkie. I used to spend an average of four to five hours parked in front of the TV a day. I am a big fan of Buffy TVS, X Files, The Amazing Race. I still watch TV here in Germany, but to a much lesser extent. I can attribute it to the fact that TV programs here are more educational than entertaining, but honestly, I've got better things to do than to channel surf nowadays.

I'm no TV snob, I still download programs of my choice. Rome kicks ass. I bet that if I started to watch Hero, I would get into it too, like everybody else has. I'm also quite sad that Bob Barker is retiring. My Grandpa and I used to watch The Price is Right together as a ritual.

By the way, they're showing Rome dubbed in German on Pro 7 starting July 8. I think Pro7's parent company helped fund the show. Oh, and Weeds is on German TV too. I haven't seen it yet but I've heard great reviews.

Everybody Changes/Palaisipan/ Mein Lebensrätsel

A year hence, and I still find it hard to believe how radically my life has changed.
It's basically the same routine. I wake up early, I walk through the city streets, I go to work. Go home knackered. Cook dinner. Watch TV. Sleep.

Aber es ist doch anders. Ich bin in Manila letztes Jahr gelaufen. Jetzt ist die Stadt Erfurt. Es ist immer noch unvorstellbar, dass die Leute im Fernsehen Deutsch sprechen. dass ich Euros verdiene, dass dieses Land in einem Tag wunderschön warm und dann wieder 15 Grad kalt werden kann. Europa ist jetzt mein Wahrheit, nicht mehr mein Traum.

Pero malaki ang katumbas ng aking mga pangarap. Minsan pakiramdam ko naghahalo-halo na ang mga wika sa utak ko. Minsan hindi ka maintindihan ng mga tao. Bakit mo ginagawa ito? Bakit mo ginagawa iyan? Hindi talaga maiintindihan ng mga Aleman bakit mas maganda ang Maynila sa aking mga mata kaysa sa mga siyudad nila. Matindi pa rin ang pangungulila ko sa lahat ng may kinalaman sa Pinoy. Siguro dahil bihira akong makipag-halubilo sa mga Pinoy. Dito sa siyudad kung saan ako nakatira, kahit sa Jena, wala akong nakilalang Pinoy na galing Pinas. Kung dati hindi ako nanonood ng The Buzz noong nasa atin pa tayo, updated ako ngayon sa Gretchen-John Estrada issue! Kabobohan, di ba? Pero minsan mas gusto ko pang manood ng kabobohan, maibsan lang ang pamamahay ko. Kasi kahit dito ako nakatira, kahit alam ko ang wika nila, pakiramdam ko pa rin na hindi ako taga-rito.

One thing that I like in my new country is that mostly everybody devotes their brainpower to something useful, unlike in my Motherland. Everything there is bogged down by chismis and politics. I find my current work more stimulating and challenging than my previous job. I work in an international environment, with Americans, Germans, Argentinians, Canadians, South Africans, Cubans and the French, all under one roof! I like my job more than I ever thought I would. I like teaching. I discovered reserves of patience I never thought I had.

Es ist gerarde passiert, aber es wird noch Neuigkeiten in die nächste Monate. Bald werde ich in der Uni gehen. Bald wird mein Leben wieder ändern. Bald wird noch mein Lebenszustand auch anders sein. Manchmal mein Leben bewegt sich so schnell, dass ich sprachlos bin! Einem Jahr ist nicht genug alles zu schlucken. Mein Leben ist nur ständig Änderungen. Ich kann kaum atmen, vor der nächsten Kurve kommt.

I am still trying to come to grips with all the new changes, and the coming changes in my life. Part of me feels grateful that I am living a dream, a part of me wants to go back and be safe. To go to a place to where I know everything, to where I know the language and the rules of the game.

Ganoon ba talaga? Hindi ko alam kung bakit ako nanghihinayang sa nakaraan. Siguro dahil kapag tumingin ako sa harap, hindi ako sigurado kung ano ang ano ang aking magiging kinabukasan. I see a new curveball coming! Hay, heto nanaman!

Two down, one to go

You scored as English/Journalism/Comm, You should strongly consider majoring (or minoring) in Communication, English, Film, Journalism, Literature, or Writing. It is possible that the best major for you is your 2nd, 3rd, or even 5th listed category, so be sure to consider ALL majors in your OTHER high scoring categories (below). You may score high in a category you didnt think you would--it is possible that a great major for you is something you once dismissed as not for you. The right major for you will be something 1) you love and enjoy and 2) are really great at it. Consider adding a minor or double majoring to make yourself standout and to combine your interests. Please post your results in your myspace/blog/journal. French/Spanish/OtherLanguage 75% English/Journalism/Comm 75% History/Anthropology/LiberalArts 69% Psychology/Sociology 50% PoliticalScience/Philosophy 50% Education/Counseling 50% Visual&PerformingArts 44% HR/BusinessManagement 44% Biology/Chemistry/Geology 38% Nursing/AthleticTraining/Health 31% Religion/Theology 25% Physics/Engineering/Computer 19% Accounting/Finance/Marketing 13% Mathematics/Statistics 0% WHAT MAJOR IS RIGHT FOR YOU? created with QuizFarm.com