And the beat goes on...

Maybe Alanis Morissette says it best - it IS Ironic.

One has to constantly work at being positive and practice mindfulness.
Just when you've got yourself convinced that life is golden, and that everything is
perfect something comes up to make all that positivity go black like a burned out light bulb.
The moment of epiphany quickly turns into a dark room with no windows in sight.

It is just so easy to slip into a destructive, non-productive frame of mind that makes it seem that living is so difficult.

Being alive can feel so...deathly tiring.

You live, you learn. Sometimes the hard way more often than not. You've usually got post-it notes taped in the most conspicuous spots, the bathroom mirror, by the computer, on the wall by your bed - notes that are part of the "landscape" of your everyday life that you end up not noticing they are even there. Then you might as well take down the scraps of colored paper littered around you.

Life doesn't stop till you're dead. You can either bitch about that, or just get on with the business of living and just take it a day at a time.

There is always someone who is having a harder (more boring, more tiring, more stressful, more drawn out, more challenging) life. It's all about perspective - and when you're down in the dumps, feeling like you're lying in the gutter all by your lonesome, if we stop the pitying ourselves long enough, you will look around and notice that - it's crowded down here in the gutter of hopelessness.

I often hear - Life isn't fair! Well, who says we deserve for it to be anything but?
Life is a challenge, an adventure that we either face as intrepid adventurers or miserable wayfayrers.

Choose.

Life is what we make it.

The glass is always either half empty or full - it is the fool who has a more determined point of view that makes a happier fool. Does that make any sense at all?

Let's take that example. A glass of water (or Pepsi). To someone who doesn't like soda - to see the glass as half empty might be a relief if they are *required* by some twisted rule - to FINISH the soda. To someone who is thirsty and has no other drink available, half a glass is not enough, so they'll take what they can as quickly as they can.

So which is better now? Half empty or half full?

Perspective, darlings, that's what it's all about.

When I feel so overwhelmed, I take a step back from everything and just - do nothing.
Re-assess where I'm at and how I truly feel about things, and try to take a good look at the state of my life at the moment.

Things could always be better, but there doesn't seem much sense in complaining.

Acknowledge your lot in life, and make the best of what you've got.

I told a friend today that even negative feelings can best be dealt with by just letting the feeling sit with you. Identify, Acknowledge, wallow if you must (but not for too long), and move on.

Keep moving.

You're alive, be glad that you are.

Things can and will get better.

Believe it.

Life is good, regardless of the circumstance... The Universe Has A Plan, that's what I'm sayin'!

A Lifted post.. From a friend's FB Wall, taken from Exceptional Living.

The Radical Self Love Manifesto

Strive to always be thankful and optimistic.
Focus your gaze on what is good and positive; never dwell on the negative.
Do not allow life to make you cynical or closed off.
Remaining open and true to yourself is a life-long adventure, and the only one worth having.
Choose to see the best in people.
Strike up conversations with strangers.
Never be afraid to ask for what you really, really want.
To love, purely and fiercely, without agenda, is the most terrifying and rewarding thing you'll ever do.
Travel is essential to the spirit.
A pair of great shoes means nothing if you have an ugly heart.
Try your hardest not to judge anyone else; it never leads anywhere good.
Always avoid tabloids and gossip; they destroy the soul.
Be kind and loyal.
Many things in this world are more important than money.
Always trust your intuition, always.
Rescue animals, it will strengthen your heart.
Never delight in anyone else's misery.
Trust in others.
You are your own best investment.
Believe in the magic of a new day and a fresh start.
Follow your bliss.
Do more of what you love.
Always do the best you can.
Create your own family and care for them ferociously.
When people offer you opportunities that scare you, say yes: it's the very best way to grow.
You are never as stuck as you think.
Stay eager.
Love yourself.
Say YES to the adventure of Life.

Written by Gala Darling

The 18th of July Anniversary

(Amelia "Mely" Valencia Juban 29 December 1921-18 July 2008)

Three years ago, today, sometime between 2:50-3:00 in the morning of July 18th, 2008, you went to meet Poppa God.

You were diagnosed with Cancer of the Parotid. A condition that dovetailed with the onset of Alzheimer's Disease which, towards the end, robbed us all of a chance to fully live your last days with you in what typically would be frought with invitations to lie down to nap at mid-day, or sit down to merienda, or to come down to breakfast, lunch or dinner before the food got too cold, or the commentaries on how this bag or that was perfect because it had so many utility pockets, or whether or not the main dish we ordered at the restaurant to celebrate a graduation or special occasion might be too pricey and...my favorite - did I want you to place a call to your childhood friend to have me work for a prestigious local broadcasting network. (?)

That last morning, standing at the foot of your bed, with everyone else who was there, I found myself hearing muffled voices through the many thoughts buzzing in my head. Thoughts like: "is this really it? time for you to go?" "wait, this is a dream and they didn't really wake me up to say goodbye", "why are we standing about at this hour, and why is everyone quietly crying?", "why are you not awake and out of bed yet?" "why are your eyes not open with you smiling up at us saying you'll be okay in the morning?" "Wait! You can't die! You're supposed to get better!" Who was I kidding. Talk about false hope. But that was how it was for me. I remember the growing panic which was masked with a stoic and dumb stare as I watched you slowly breathe in and out until the time they said you were gone.

You died peacefully by the time the clock struck 3am. The wave of awareness washing over me as surely as if I had been engulfed by a silent but no less fatal tsunami at the shore of the land of the living.

You slipped away long before you actually said goodbye, so maybe it was best this way.

All of us who were at your home, the moment of your "departure" were properly woken to bid you a final farewell. But I never really got a chance to say goodbye. I stood there, clutching at your feet, by the edge of your bed, watching - as you took your last shallow breaths...as i listened to the final pronouncement na... "Wala na ang Mommy."

My grandmother, the one who figured larger than life itself with her shy prepossesing demeanor during my growing up years lay dying and I couldn't say goodbye. The grandchildren - myself included - all wrote and recited our 'memorials and farewells' to you at the wake on the morning of the funeral, but - I never really said goodbye to you. Maybe that is why I have to write to you today, on your Third Death Anniversary. I've let you go, yes, it was - as everyone says - and I agree - better this way. That you didn't have to undergo much more discomfort, suffering or loss of dignity. And although I should have been 'ready' for your death - I wasn't ready when Death finally came to claim you. I wasn't prepared. I was.. Not ready to let you go.

After we buried you, I went to visit your grave as often as I could (which makes it convenient that where you are now is a shorter drive from where we stay), and for a spell, wondered if I had spent four years in college only to choose a career as someone who tended a grave for a living.
I would troop to the cemetery with a bottle of oil, a rag to clean and shine your marker, candles and a pot of flowers, sometimes with mom, but sometimes alone, to 'visit' with you.

During those times I'd talk to you out loud (but not too loud, of course) and tell you how things have been, or complain about this thing or another or this funny incident or what-not that occurred since my last visit. After I'd cleaned your marker, I'd sit there and feel the breeze in my hair and tell you it was a nice afternoon and that I'm glad to be sitting there quietly with you. I've taught myself not to cry openly as much when I am there because - well, f I did that too frequently, the roving guards might have cause for concern - and I didn't really want to be taken away by the "men in white coats" or have my shrink alerted due to any excessive display of emotion on such a regular basis.

It got easier to visit you as the months went by, but like I tell you each time I visit, and on the morning of your funeral - I MISS YOU EVERYDAY.

Growing up with you has shaped many a thing in my life, in my personality - I even attribute my fondness for sweets and my first taste of coffee to you. You and the ten teaspoons of sugar for a glass of Calamansi juice meant - a glass of Calamansi juice would never be quite as perfect if it didn't have the right 'sweet twist' to it. Di ba? You said ten teaspoons of sugar!
The fondness for doughnuts, don't worry, I developed that on my own. haha.
You always laughed at the corniest of my jokes, and never failed to make me feel like I was the cutest, smartest and wittiest person you happened to be speaking to - ever. You always were, ready to give - even if it was the last money you had. I remember the one time I fancied that I "ran away from home" and showed up at your gate unexpectedly (I was still in high-school) and you were insisting I take the only money you had on you - your last Twenty Pesos, from the pocket of your house-dress. You were sure I could deal with it and go back home to "face the music." I don't even remember how I got home that day. I think eventually you called my mom and she and dad had to come fetch me and bring me home.

My tastes were partially defined by the comments I heard from you growing up, my habits formed under your tutelage - you insisted on tying my shoelaces for me till I was nearly 15 years old, even when I insisted I could do it myself - and even when you let me - you'd always remind me - "itali mo ulit." insisting that I double-knot it, so it doesn't come loose as I walk. I forget to do that sometimes and as I retie my laces, your voice always rings in my head... "Dapat kasi Babe, di-noble mo yun tali."

I measure my choices by the way you would feel about the decisions I make, by how you'd feel if I chose one thing over another and basically - if it was (or at least felt like) the best thing to do at the given moment. My choices aren't always stellar, but I know you'd understand that I was (and continue) to grow into myself as my own person.

You always had faith in me - even when I didn't have faith in myself.

Up until before you slipped into the fog of illness and Alzheimer's and we'd sit up and read the paper, your vision was still much better than mine. Something I found truly amazing. I developed drug induced Cataracts, YOU never got Cataracts! And it was only because of you that I stuck to those piano lessons because I knew how that was one of your frustrations. (I still feel that Mark plays the piano a whole lot better than I ever could)) But I stuck with it, and I can read notes! Now, I'm glad you were so insistent about the piano lessons, thank you. But I do NOT regret refusing to take those ballet and jazz lessons you suggested I take. haha. See? I can imagine you smirking at that. Even my sense of humor has been colored by you.

You were among one of the most concerned and devastated when I was diagnosed with Lupus in 2004, and always worried after my health and safety whenever I'd come to visit. Somehow, sometimes I feel that I let you (and everyone else who loves me) down by getting sick with this chronic dis-ease. But I realize then, it may all be just...part of the game of living. Roll of the dice, so to speak. But I'm sorry that you and everyone else in my life, has had to, and for those who are still here - are currently - living through my being not quite 100%. I don't mean to cause undue alarm. I'm fine. Half the time, no one can even tell there is anything different about me, if they don't mind that I might be a little too young to be using a cane.
It's still all good. No worries.

I miss your cooking. I miss your distinctive script and handwriting which I read and touch gently as I ask to borrow and re-read your recipe books. I carry around a prayer you re-wrote for me on a piece of yellow pad paper, a talisman of remembrance, of hope - one you gave me with the promise that "God will make you well!"

And yesterday, we visted your grave. Poppa, Thea and I, where we sat for a bit and said prayers for you, lit a candle and enjoyed the breeze. I was quiet. Sharing my thoughts with you, only in my head. Holding back tears that I desperately wanted to shed. But I was your big girl, I know you are "in a better place" and that it is as it should be.

I know you love me... And I trust that you know I love you.

I love you Loly, even as I carry you in my heart, I miss you everyday.

(not MY favorite photo from high-school, but I was told this was one of YOUR favorite pictures)

Fascinating...

I'm exhausted today...so what am I doing writing this blog entry?

I suppose I just have something I need to say.

There are monsters....and there are MONSTERS.

We have the usual hideous beasts of lore that we read about and imagine and see in our worst nightmares, and then there are those kinds of monsters that seem like normal people, but are actually hideous and beyond beastly on the inside.
Dorian Gray is alive and well in various forms.

If you're lucky, you are able to identify one from the other...and take note, sometimes it doesn't take a scary countenance or extreme physical deformity to be a monster. The worst sort are the monsters who try to kill your spirit, who steal the joy in your soul.

I hope I never turn into one of them...and I hope you never have to encounter this type of monster either...

The trick in dealing with the Dorian Gray type of monster is - know who you are and live your life for the greater good, thinking only good for those around you whether or not you know them personally.

Life feels too complicated and unfair most of the time - so let's spread as much love as we can... shall we?

Tread lightly, but without fear, although never forget - Here Be Monsters.

ROCK ON!!!

from the 1945 movie - The Picture Of Dorian Gray, c/o Wikipedia

Is this what they call a flatline, or just a serious rut?

Did you miss me?


It will seem strange, but I have to say - I miss me too.

I haven't been feeling quite like myself these past few weeks. I wonder a lot about whether this is something akin to an emotional flatline, or just a serious rut. most days, I don't see much difference.

I keep reminding myself, this too shall pass - IT HAS TO. Because tomorrow, whether I care or not, the world will still keep turning and the sun will still shine.

*cue recording*

"The subscriber cannot be reached. Please try your call again later."

I think I'll go sit in a corner for a bit. We'll play...Later.

Catch y'all in a few shakes. Are those lamb tails I see wagging in the distance?!

*mental note*

You've got to get out of this rut, a flatline would be too boring, plus, you aren't dead yet so, get over yourself.

Take your pill.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat as needed.

Freaky Dream Sequence

I had what I consider a strange dream last night.

Given that I have trouble sleeping in general, the fact that I actually stayed asleep long enough to dream (much less remember it so vividly) makes the experience quite fascinating for me.

My brudder had a 14 year old stalker who was obsessed with meeting him and insisted that she was his significant other.  It was only odd because - in my dream, my brudder refused to meet and face her, saying - he didn't know who this person was.

Turns out - she liked the photos he took, happened to read a poem from litratula.com with a picture that my brother had taken and somehow felt she and my bro were "connected".

As dreams go - nothing has to make sense. (is life supposed to be this way too?)

I spoke to her and asked HOW she and my brother met, which is why I know their "history". This detail is especially noteworthy because I am not the type to pry and have never been one to be the 'next in line to Boy Abunda' when it comes to interviewing for personal info.

In the next sequence...I was standing by the gate of some house, with this girl (the one who is supposedly my brudder's significant other) while she waited for her car to fetch her - we were apparently waiting up for a red escort. (do those cars even still ply the roads these days???)

I never found out if the car arrived. I woke up with a start and a thought running in my head that went - oooooooooooookay, it was about time I snapped out of THAT.  

After a few more minutes something DID make sense.

It's a Monday.

'Nuff said.

where'smycoffee?

Memento Mori

Enjoy life while you can.

The sister of a friend passed away two days ago and I visited the wake last night. I went clear across town - more for the bereaved rather than the one who has passed on. 

This is especially true for the wake I took part in (albeit for a brief period of time) in order to give my friend a hug and to let her know, tangibly that, aside from her immediate family there are friends who will stand by her through what is possibly one of the most trying moments of a person's life.

The sudden, unexpected loss of a loved one.

Many times I forget what a gift it is to have those I love within an arm's length, a hug, a text message or a phone call away.  I am guilty of passing by those I keep near and dear in my heart with not so much as a glance and quick smile.  possibly too wrapped up in whatever it is I am doing or feel that I need to do that I don't have enough time to pay attention to anything or anyone else. This happens more times than I care to remember - why? You ask.  Because they are always there anyway, and it isn't like I won't see them again in possibly a few minutes or in the morning when I wake up.

But...what if. . .
...I don't wake up?
...they don't wake up?
...something unpleasant happens between the time I last see them and the next time we meet?

Not to be setting a morbid, depressing or negative mood here. This is meant more as a  reality check. 

A gentle, although maybe not so subtle reminder to myself, a mental note via this blog entry, as you will - to take every opportunity to let those who matter to me *know* that I care about them.

When I am mindful, I remember to check in and ask family and friends how their day has been, or even the more common question - "have you eaten yet?" if only by way of checking in and letting them know - hey, you matter to me and even in the most mundane way, I'd like to make sure that things are all right in your world.

I want to remember to take the time and check in with those who matter to me, to those who make a difference in my life simply because they are part of it.

Reality check -

Death is inevitable.

Sometimes those we love leave this world when we least expect, and even when their demise is something that isn't too much of a surprise (as may be the case with the terminally or chronically ill)  the moment you find out that they are gone will always be a blow you can't begin to imagine until the truth and reality of someone's death stares you in the face.

I hope I remember to take time to let those I care about know that they are important.
That I am here for them if they need me and that I'd be more than happy to help them if I can in whatever capacity I can muster given the circumstances. MY circumstances, to be more specific.  I might not always announce my availability or willingness, but I can only hope that they trust me enough to know that all they need to do is ask.

Life should be lived, experienced, enjoyed, LIVED.
While we can - for as long as we can.

I don't claim that I have it perfect and that there aren't things in my life that I sometimes wish weren't  so difficult.  There are in fact many days when waking up with a sore EVERYTHING after a fitful sleep makes getting up and out of bed to face the day a less than happy thought - but - I get up anyway.
There remains things to be done, people to see, family and friends to hug, greet, text, share jokes and laugh or hang out with, articles, blog entries to be written, books to be read, books to be written and pets to feed.
(ok, fish count, as do turtles).

As long as I am alive, then I will take every opportunity to make use of the time I've got.
If that includes a doughnut, coffee or Pepsi, then you won't hear any objections from me!

I can only hope that when my time is up, people will say - it was good while it lasted, and she had the time of her life while she could.

And since I am still around, I choose to celebrate life.
I salute those who have gone before, have fun and spend quality time with people in my life who matter and wait eagerly to cheer for those who are yet to come.

If you are reading this - you, yes I mean YOU - Smile, I love you!!!  Thank you for being part of my life, y'all make this a fun ride. Salamat Po!

It's all good, folks. Really.

Mabuhay!

Hoppin' To It...

Happy Easter Everyone!

I never could figure out WHY a bunny would take time to hide eggs - and it isn't until now that I'm supposed to be at an age (well over 18 ;-P) that I've taken the time to look into this strange but widely accepted "practice".

Okay -

1. The Bunnies - BRING the Easter Eggs....technically...and i suppose, not having opposable thumbs, kept dropping the eggs willy-nilly and the kids would have to scrounge around the bushes and shrubs for them.

2. Bunnies do not - LAY EGGS, they are just symbols of fertility (the prolific hares and the chicken eggs)

3. This is considered the 2nd Christmas - in the Philippines, it is called - Pasko ng Pagkabuhay - The Christ has Risen from the dead - a second life - signalling that we've all been "saved".

4. Playing Angry Birds during Easter is a twisted but fun way of celebrating the 'holiday'.

5. It is important to be grateful for the gift of life - regardless of the current circumstances that we may find ourselves in.

There are often situations where we are less than happy to be a part of.  Probably feeling less than exuberant about life in general, about where we are in our 'evolution' or perhaps just the realization that we haven't evolved all that much. GAH.  But, it's better to be part of the living, and being able to contribute in ways - no matter how seemingly insignificant, towards making the world a better place to be in.

This Easter, with the resurrection of The Christ, may we remember that life - ALL life, is precious, and even if we aren't in the best of health or the most financially capable or the prettiest, most fetching individual in the room - we are all - WORTH IT.  The Universe loves YOU - believe it.

So, smile and look around you, whether you see any eggs, or any bunnies hopping around with a basket (again - HOW do they carry the basket? With their paws?) hop to the beat of life...the song is playing somewhere out there - out where dreams...come true... ;-P

duck eggs...chicken eggs...have an egg! Mabuhay!

In The Swim

We are thrust into the world, usually screaming our lungs out and gasping for air.
When we deal with the daily tasks and events in our life, we feel like we've been thrown into a giant pool and someone forgot to teach us how to swim.  
So we do the best we can to keep afloat.
We dog-paddle, thrash wildly sometimes, calmly float or wade towards the shallower part of the pool.   If we're lucky, we're thrown a life-preserver or some flotation device that keeps us from totally drowning - er, like a fish out of water.  
Sink or swim, it seems - applies not just to swimming, but to life in general.
Sure, it can be tiring, but I hear that if you just relax and let go, you might actually float! (okay, I've never really managed to do this, because I panic and start to sink)
Most times, I'm clutching at the sides of the pool, with my head just safely above the waterline - not very exciting, really. I've also tried sitting by the side of the pool with just my feet dangling in the water.  BUT - the fun in swimming is...actually swimming.
So - throwing caution to the wind, jump in and start with the freestyle!  
A cannonball jump into the water is also quite exhilarating, just make sure you choose to go off the deep end (which is where I usually go - HAHAHAHAHAHA, er, sorry, private joke I have with the voices in my head)
It being a typically bright, sunny afternoon, my thoughts turn to cooling off in the pool - too bad I think it isn't open at the moment, so I'll just have to settle for 'thinking' of swimming.
Let's not forget that I can't really be under the sun. (Okay, no side-comments about me being a creature of the night and stalking people for blood - I prefer Pepsi, thank you!)
Back to swimming.
For people who don't know how to, I suppose the idea of jumping into the water without any preparation or proper instruction can be rather scary - but - it's a whole lot like being born.  We are thrust into the world not knowing exactly how things are going to go or how we are supposed to do certain things, but we deal with it - we make choices as we go along and we LIVE. (or at least that is the idea)
I don't want to just sit at the side of the pool and watch while everyone else is having fun.  If I get bored with watching life pass me by and I decide not to do anything about it, then that would be my fault, now wouldn't it?
It's really just a matter of making up my mind to (okay, plug for Nike) JUST DO IT.
There are never any guarantees that I won't panic and nearly drown myself, but there has to be trust that somehow, I'll survive.  Whether it is out of sheer willpower and stamina, or because there are people around me who will care enough to fish me out, or throw me a life-preserver.  Shout out to my friends and family - they have always been there for me during times when I feel that I'm drowning and they manage to keep me afloat long enough to realize that even within an inch of my life left, things can only get better.
Sure, there are days when I feel like I didn't ask to be thrown into the pool, yes, there are times I wish there wasn't a damned pool at all, but since it's here, and I'm in it - there seems to be just one thing left for me to do:
Keep Swimming.
Mabuhay!  

Keep Moving...Think - Shark!

Being in near-constant pain takes some getting used to. 
(I think I may have just turned into the Queen of Understatement)
Nearly 7 years since being diagnosed with Lupus, my wrists and knees decided to celebrate by  swelling just enough to make me feel like a mini-marshmallow.  Ow.
The trick would be - either a cold compress to ease the swelling, pain medication to ignore the inevitable discomfort that accompanies moments of inflammation and a stubborn mind-set that refuses to give in to the urge to just NOT MOVE.
Now, of course, we are told that physical pain signals that something is wrong and that we should rest.  Well, what do you do when you haven't done anything particularly strenuous and your body decides to turn on the pain switch a notch higher?  
You smile, take a deep breath and hoist yourself up from the bed and move towards the counter to make a cup of coffee.  No fanfare greets you when you make it to your destination, but at least it feels like a chorus of angels hails your awakening with your first sip of coffee.
It isn't always such a challenge to have Lupus. There are "pain-neutral" days when I experience just enough of it to remind me of certain body parts that I've forgotten I had.
In fact, the day-to-day changes and experiences can prove to be quite the interesting experience - sometimes though - I wish it wasn't so taxing.  My good humor doesn't always stay within sociable limits, but never enough to make me totally give up on stepping out and meeting friends or family.
I think the trick is to keep moving anyway.  The pain will always be there, but thankfully, there are more than enough distractions to make me forget just how uncomfortable it can be, to have to deal with Arthritis or muscle pain when I'm neither close to the age of retirement or a member at a gym with a rigorous program.
Like a shark that *needs* to keep swimming, lest it sink like a rock - I've got to keep moving.  Pain? Inflammation? Dis-ease? Think - predator, not prey... Keep moving, one step at a time. Woohoo!!! 
*make sure you have your Phiten necklace on*

*STRETCH*
Mabuhay!!!

Il Gatto Pensive

With a sweeping vista of the space below him, Pusa puts his paws up on the grill and watches the commotion (or lack thereof) in the surrounding area.


I sit and watch him, as he watches the neighbors, the kids playing and the construction workers milling to and from their barracks and makeshift apartments next door.


What do cats think about?  Do they also realize they've had too much to eat? or plan out their next 'spot to visit' as they sit there seemingly bored with everything that is happening around them?  

The condo cats live quite an interesting life - only slightly less dangerous than purely stray-street-cats, since they have shelter of sorts from the rain, and a good chance of free food given either at the fire escape by other residents, or access to the garbage bin behind the building.
Cosmopolitan in their habits - since Pusa - has gone up and into the elevator with me on several ocassions. YES, he knows to ride an elevator! and I have in fact, opened my door to find this furry friend mewling loudly while he lays stretched out on the doormat of our unit. Seems they find their way around well enough, and are tolerated by most people here.  The dog-killing incident of several months ago seems a distant memory, as my mom is quick to point out that the maintenance and security personnel are more careful about getting themselves in trouble again (I called the local police to investigate when I heard the sound of a dog that howled in distress - it turns out this dog was killed because he was a 'threat' to people - i was thinking he was being considered an appetizer for the next drinking spree.  I made sure they buried him as I watched silently.)
I don't think life would be simpler if I was a stray animal, but I think there would definitely be less to worry about.  Oh, i wouldn't have a facebook account or tweet or plurk if I was a stray cat - even if I lived in a condominium complex.

As a condo cat, I'd just have to learn real quickly WHO among the residents I can trust, which floors serve the best leftovers and which landing on the fire escape provides the best respite from the elements.  
Cushy life. 
Unless I decide to cross the street, then I'd have to look out for cars that speed by every few minutes, I think I'd have it pretty good as a condo cat.
Of course, it would be better if there was one particular place I could call home.
However, things being what they are, I've got little to complain about.  
We're all still alive.  That's what counts.

Mind the Ripples...Handle Dominoes with Care & Tell the Butterflies to Sleep

I admit - today, I am guilty of playing the role of "irate customer".  The scourge of Customer Service Representatives and a blight upon the face of the socially pleasant environment. I was curt, impatient and plainly put - unpleasant.  GAH.

Now, to place this in perspective, I realize my temper got that way to begin with because my day was not off to a great start.  I woke up and found it was difficult to walk because my ankle decides to unfriend me - for some reason, the pain felt like I sprained my right foot - which was odd because I just spent the last 6 hours asleep - it was my ankle that caused me to drag my right leg and walk like I was Quasimodo personified.  Then the cold which hasn't gone away, followed closely by a short hack of a cough.  To top that off, my mom decides to rattle off a litany of things and questions ranging from - why I still had a cold, what time did I get home the night before or what was wrong with my ankle and what was being done about the internet connection that wasn't working?!  All before I've had my cup of coffee.

So - that Customer Service Agent that I spoke to on the phone became the hapless victim of my foul mood.  I was asking questions like - "so how long should I wait till the internet connection is repaired? Forever?" and I kept getting called "Sir" which added to my already dark mood.  There was an attempt to correct this, which really, didn't work - Okay, sir. GOD.

After having calmed down somewhat (read: had coffee) and finally the internet connection is back - I know that it wasn't right for me to take out my anger on the Customer Service Agent.

Like a pebble thrown into a pond, that caused a ripple effect - the ugliness of my morning seemed to spread out incrementally...the wrong domino was pushed and caused the rest to fall haphazardly out of place and the butterfly flew the wrong way.

I stared longingly at my bottle of anti-anxiety medication, being on the verge of tears that I wanted to replicate a dramatic scene from a bad film where I pushed all objects off the table, pulled items from the shelf and broke a few pieces of china to express my anger. Gee, being bipolar can be *such* a chore.  In the end, I realized that I'd have to pick up after myself anyway, so I didn't bother with making a mess.  I just took the pill, a deep breath, and played happy music - loudly.

It also helped that I had really good friends who (via sms) kept me calm and fairly rational.

This has not been one of my better days - I am reminded that I should be extra careful about taking my anger out on those who do not deserve such ill treatment, and to tread lightly and with as much grace possible given circumstances which make me feel less than happy shiny. 

I hope my actions have not caused a ripple effect of unpleasantness - and if it has - I am doing all I can to fix it.  I have to start by remaining calm.  Then by holding my peace.  Then I will keep on listening to the happy music till my mood takes a turn for the better.  If all that fails, then I think I'll go back to sleep till it is Sunday, or September. (hears the song "When September Ends" by Green Day playing in her head)

It is still all good, and The Universe STILL has a plan...I mustn't forget that.

Now WHAT is it? Hmmmmm.

If You Insist...I'll need a bigger lap, boys.

As many of you know by now, pets aren't really allowed at the condo where I stay.
But, as fate would have it - there are Condo cats - who loiter the premises with impunity and often spend time with me while I'm out on the fire escape.
There is Pusa (whom i sometimes refer to as 'the bossy one')

Pusa a.k.a. Boss Sungit

And then there is also HeyYou (whom I now refer to as Klutz Muffin or KM for short - there's a story behind that, but that's for another post, if I remember)

HeyYou a.k.a. Klutz Muffin/KM

Now - as is the custom with these two - one is usually not far from the other, and although as of late, KM spends more time hanging out with me, Pusa is almost always in attendance. KM seems to be developing a sense of proprietorship when it comes to sitting on my lap - a practice originally started by Pusa.  And as I have mentioned previously, Pusa seems tolerant of the smaller cat, and gives way to the younger - especially when it comes to food or the apparently much coveted 'human couch' that also answers to the name - Babs.

When KM (HeyYou) is already comfortably on my lap as I drink my coffee, Pusa is usually content to just lay by the step below or right beside me - but lately, maybe because the nights have been nippy and the wind cool for this time of year - Pusa also insists on getting his lap-time even if KM is already comfortably sleeping.  This is interesting to watch because, Pusa being bigger than the kitten - doesn't seem to care that he is practically lying down over most of the small cat as he slowly clambers up on my lap.  I often end up moving KM a bit so at least it's just his butt that's pinioned under the bigger orange cat.

both asleep

One of the reasons why I bring a book out on the fire escape is - I usually end up staying out there slightly longer than I expected when these two decide to pull something like this.  I don't have the heart to get up and shoo them off especially since they seem to look SO comfortable.

GAH. Meanwhile, MY butt is going to sleep too, so I move a bit every few minutes just to get the blood to circulate more comfortably and I don't get pins and needles or worse - a numb behind. Sitting quietly watching them sleep gives me a measure of calm. I keep amusing myself with internal dialogues that they might be having or else I have internal discussions with - or mostly talk to them out loud - about how I have NO plans of sleeping out on the fire escape with them.

KM thinking: "This lap ain't big enough for the two of us."

I remain quite amused by the fact that tolerance - seems to go both ways with these two. Pusa has to give in to KM when it comes to matters of food and petting rights, and apparently, KM has to allow Pusa to share lap/sleeping space with him.  Come to think of it - these two are just like Batman and Robin... or The Lone Ranger and Tonto.  Funnily enough, the small cat seems to be developing an attitude lately that says: This is MY turf, and attempts to gently take a swipe at Pusa when he comes to sit beside us.

At the end of it all - KM just curls up closer beside Pusa and gives in to the status quo.

oh well...whatever.

I think I'll need a bigger lap - or another cup of coffee.  Tolerance. Acceptance of what IS. I'd really much rather have a dog again, but it isn't allowed - so THAT is MY status quo. Sigh.

Things are much easier if you just go with the flow sometimes.  This will do for now.

It's all good.

Mabuhay!

Remembering Loly

My most vivid memories are the most recent, where during every visit, you'd always tell me to lay down for a nap even if it was the middle of the day - and you had your favorite noontime show on television playing loudly in the background.  Or that time when I was going on a trip with my friends and went to visit you before I left - you asked what I was doing there, since you knew I was supposed to be out of the country, I reminded you that I wasn't due to leave for a few days yet. You smiled absently and asked me again, to take a nap. 
I smiled and lay down on the single bed beside yours, and watched television with you as you drifted off to sleep. It was barely an hour past noon.
You complained of an annoying ringing sound in your ear, and disliked the lump that formed on the side of your neck, more concerned that it made you look less than beautiful - you remained radiant as always - because when I look back on those days, I can only remember the look of concern that reflected my own - and I didn't have the heart to confront you with the reality of the situation (then again, not one of us among those who love you did).  We played along and never confirmed the diagnosis - Cancer.
Up until the last day before you slipped into the fog of  forgetfulness, you kept worrying that maybe you were sick - not really understanding, I think - just how ill you were. I felt the omission a breach of trust, but I could not bear to be the one to confirm your worst fears.  I held my tongue. I think, somehow, you knew - but have chosen to hold to the fretting part, never really getting to the acknowledging that you were not well.
I remember when I was much younger, and I was left at your house while mom & dad were at work - you allowed me to use actual plates while i concocted various "dishes" comprised of shrubs those little coconut peas that grew on the small palm tree in the yard.  You even bought me a clay cooking set from the nearby market, and gave me some actual rice to cook - even if the water kept seeping into the tiny pot.  You made me feel competent, and allowed me to believe that I could do ANYTHING I set my mind to - when the rice failed to cook properly, you said we'd try it again another time, despite my protests.
When I had some silly story to tell, you would always smile broadly at me and all I remember are your eyes lighting up with your asking "S'ya nga?" like I'm the smartest kid ever born and I'd just as generously smile back and nod my head like it was the greatest story, EVER. 
My first taste of coffee was from a portion of pandesal that you dipped in your cup, when I asked what it was you were drinking for merienda. I was probably 6 years old.  My knowing that the "perfect" glass of lemonade was 10 pieces of Calamansi and ten teaspoons of sugar to a tall glass set my taste-buds to sweet is the only way to go.
When mom refused to buy me a pogo-stick, which she said I didn't know how to use, and would be dangerous to play with, I started to sulk. When you found out about this, we both snuck off and you bought me the pogo-stick yourself. You were confident that I'd learn to use & play with it safely. You made me feel invincible.  You made me feel brave. You made me feel like I could do anything I set my mind on.
When I was at the hospital and had a craving for your soup - you had never-ending batches of it made to be brought to me daily - to a point that the people at your house were sick of the aroma of the broth boiling on the stove.
When you fell ill, I was much older, and knew there was precious little I could do to stave off Cancer - even then, in your brief moments of lucidity, you would ask after me and how I was faring with having Lupus, forgetting that you were in a medically more precarious condition than I was.

Now that you're gone, and I'm still here, dealing with having the aches and pains of a person many years older than my actual age - I remember you, believing that I am able to deal with whatever comes my way.  I fake my way through some days because I'm not sure how capable I really am of not letting my dis-ease get the better of me.  But on most days, I remind myself that you're watching over me - over all of us who love you still - and take courage in that thought.  I can do this.
Three years on the 18th of July 2011.
I still miss you every single day.

a favorite photo with Loly
(circa 1994?)

How do I say it like it is?

I don't understand it.  Really.  Why sometimes I miss the chance to tell you that, 
I Love You?
"Love is so short, forgetting is so long" - Pablo Neruda
The devil is in the details, I suppose as the cliché goes.  
It's the little things, minute - the inconsequential acts that take place without anyone really noticing that something major has been done, because it isn't anything out of the ordinary. Nothing grand or bold but certainly done - out of love, with nothing expected in return.
With the headlines screaming of disaster, death and mayhem, both natural the ones caused by my fellow human beings, I sit in silence, sending thoughts - of love, remembrance - and a wish that you are safe & well.
And I trust, that this will be enough for now, because - for the moment this is all that's possible.
You are in my thoughts, and though you may never really hear me say it - I think you know the import and weight of all that I have never said.

It's All About Trust.

No, I don't mean the contraceptive - (In the Philippines, there is a condom brand called Trust).  I'm talking about TRUST as a noun and as a verb. 
The archaic usage being - reliability.
There are many days (for me, more than I care to acknowledge) when I wonder if my saying that "The Universe Has A Plan" is really just something to make me feel better about things that aren't so great in life.  There is a near constant dialogue in my head about the wisdom of my choices, the veracity of my intentions and the sanity of my logic. (the last one, worries me most of all, but so far, I'm fairly calm about it)
I haven't been able to really post anything for longer than I had intended because I was adjusting to one of the medications I've had to take for BiPolar Syndrome.  I've noticed that, some people are surprised or at least maybe even a little taken aback by the mention of the word, much less the discovery that they are talking to someone who IS BiPolar.
Well - I've gotten used to the surprise that some people express when they find out I have Lupus, so the mild astonishment that sometimes comes with the term BiPolar isn't all too unsettling for me anymore.  Same old, same old.
But, back to Trust.  I like it more than the word Hope, which, although has merits all its own, I usually prefer to use the word - trust.
It takes a lot of it for me to get through the day - to survive the inevitable gremlin of doubt that sits on my shoulder and whispers sweet uncertainties in my ear when I sit still long enough to let it get to me.  Most days - I just keep moving in order not to "hear" anything.
There are glorious moments when I go through hour after hour with the certainty of the brave (and possibly blissfully ignorant) and all seems right in my world.  But those are the times when I think my level of trust is at its highest.
Trust in what?  Trust in people, in the innate goodness of others, in the thinking that in all the bad news that is on television these days - there is still a lot of good in the world, and a lot more to be thankful about despite the unpleasantness that surrounds us.  Trust that The Universe DOES have a plan, and I just need to keep believing that.
I have days when pain gets the better of me and it becomes difficult to even stand up (this is when my being stubborn helps, haha) because - as challenging as it can be to simply get up and out of bed - I will anyway; and days when as morbid as it sounds, I am actually dismayed to find out that I made it through the night.  
But - I generally think things are always better in the morning, so this morbid thought evaporates fairly rapidly, especially after I've had my cup of coffee, and if that doesn't work, a Pepsi always helps improve my mood. =)
Life is always a series of choices which, in turn leads to a slew of consequences, for good or ill.      Sometimes the most I can hope for is that the choices I make are the best ones at the time - which, might be the most anyone can hope for perhaps?
I do not have a predisposition towards the maudlin, but lately I've been more easily given to sentimentality and a fragile sort of mood. (Did I hear someone say - it's time to bring up the dosage of the medication? haha) However, all is not as bleak as it sounds.  All it takes is a good day with the least amount of physical discomfort (or a whole lot of Pepsi, and maybe some chips to go with it) to make the world a better place for me.  Yes, things aren't always perfect, nothing is - but with the right frame of mind - everything can be bearable, even a perfectly horrible day. Gee, I wonder if that even made sense? hee!
I've started to watch this tv series - Fringe - which among other things,  brings up the possibility, nay - the very existence - of: A Parallel Universe.  (excuse my escapist tendencies here, but I seem to have a very high capacity for Suspension of Disbelief) haha.
Well, in my flights of fancy I'd say - in a Parallel Universe, I don't have Lupus, am not Bipolar and I know how to cook really, really well.  Okay. Back to THIS Universe, Babs. Pronto.
There are many many reasons for me to be grateful for the life I have now, family, friends and the very idea that I'M STILL HERE!!! Should be on the top of that list.
I'd like to thank everyone in my Universe who make my being alive a worthwhile experience -  despite my physical discomfort, despite my sleepless nights, despite the many odds and ends of having to deal with living with a chronic medical condition. It's all good still. Always.
I *trust* that The Universe HAS a plan, and I hope I don't stop believing it does, even if I don't know *exactly* what that plan might be at the moment.
In the meantime, I have to remember to just show up, and be present. 
Plan ahead when I can, but take each day at a time. 
Life is here, it's happening - this is not a drill. Let's rock & roll!
Mabuhay!

P.S. 
Here is an interesting link I read today...
http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/thanissaro/lifeisnt.html

audi, vide, tace.

hear, see, be silent.

The Boys Are All Right

Considering I never really asked to have pet turtles - I have them anyway.  My mother got them for me during a time when I was asking for a pet iguana - I suppose turtles are slower and easier to catch?!  And considering pets aren't allowed at the place where we stay - it seemed like a more interesting choice over the usual fighting fishes that I used to have. (They have mostly gone off to the great aquarium in the sky now) I never really named these fishes, since I considered them my - 1st line of defense - it's morbid but, there is a belief that our pets sometimes "take the fall" for us, in the event that we are to suffer some major illness or worse. hmmm.. Everytime a fish would die, I'd tell my mom - I need more fish!! as if it was energy points in some video game and I'm extending my playing time. haha. Now. Here come the turtles.
There are two of them - the bigger one - I've named Sushi, and the smaller, more neurotic one, I have decided to call - Shogun.  They would either walk around the unit, or when it's feeding or sleeping time, stay in a big plastic tub in the bathroom.  A few months ago, my mom took them home to The Sticks, had a 'resort' made (Read: a small cement enclosure with rocks and a bowl filled with water) for them.  I hemmed and hawed over being separated from the two - as we have an ongoing love-hate relationship... I love being able to talk to them and have Sushi actually come towards me when I call him (he fancies himself a dog, I think?) while I hate having to search for and reach for Shogun under the furthest corner under the bed or couch where he decides to hide from prying eyes. I also don't particularly enjoy post-meal clean-ups, since goodness! It's a testing thing, cleaning up after turtles - and it isn't like you can potty-train them like dogs (or some cats).
Although I stay in the city and only visit the house in The Sticks every other weekend or so, my mom has enlisted the neighbor's help in feeding the boys and sweeping up the grounds around the house - to make sure the weeds don't get too high or snakes might decide to take permanent residence there! Eeee!
I was out in The Sticks last week. I noticed, a brighter shade of red in both the boys - they are Red Eared Slider turtles - the brighter the shade of red, the healthier they supposedly are. Seems they're thriving in their new habitat - which is good.  Sushi still remembers me, and Shogun seems less neurotic.  Win-win. They get fresh air, more sunlight now compared to when they were at the condo and more space to walk around in too - which is closer to a turtle's "natural" habitat.

In the soup?

Shogun, seems a whole lot less jittery now ever since the move. Sushi, still curious and intrepid as ever. It can be interesting having turtles as pets - I want to debunk the superstitious belief that allowing children to have turtles as pets makes them "slow" since, my speech hasn't been affected a whit by raising these two - I recall when I was much younger and my grandmother (Loly) found out that my mom got me turtles, she was tut-tutting that it isn't good for children to take care of turtles.  Okay, maybe I get a little dense sometimes, but I don't think the turtles are to blame for this deficiency. haha. 
Those turtles, I brought out to "play" with me, by the gutter of the sidewalk, and er, forgot to bring them back inside with me when I was called back into the house. What?! geez, I was, what? 8? Okay, okay, my bad. I bet they've found their way into the sewerage system and are now bigger than cars. Gee.
But - back to my current Terrapins (the technical and official term for turtles) I miss having them around, and wish they were still here with me, cooped up at the condo.  But it seems the transfer was a healthier option for them - because turtles also need to get some sun - i usually take them out to the Fire Escape with me, in the afternoons in their tub half-filled with water and allow them to "sunbathe". Can I morbidly say - Turtle Soup, anyone??? hee! NOT. But now, although their enclosure is in the shade, they still get more sun out in The Sticks than they ever would if they were here in the city with me. Even if I let them sun themselves in the afternoon, they'd develop a red rash underneath their carapace (that's what the shell is called) and that is an indicator that they aren't getting enough Vitamin D (which you get from sunlight...funny, I would've called it Vitamin S !?!)
My point in all this rambling? CHANGE CAN BE A GOOD THING.
Many people, myself included, resist change. We want what's familiar, we fear the unknowable future and try in vain to ignore the fact that change, is the only constant, and the only things you can be sure of are...wait for it...Death & Taxes. It's one thing to have Lupus, to have Arthritis at an age when I technically shouldn't be bothered by it for another 20-30 years or so, but hey, it's here. Deal with it, Babs. Each day isn't ever really the same except MY constant, is that, it involves pain. I've gotten used to it. You either accept it, or feel sorry for yourself, which, I figure, is useless and makes me feel even worse.
So - I've been stepping out of my comfort zone more and more, each day - a day at a time. I stretch more, drink more water and try to get to sleep earlier than my usual 'vampire hour' schedule - even if that means taking a pill that leaves me feeling like a stunned cow when I get up the next morning.
There are times when the change imposed upon is something we didn't ask for, or is beyond our control. You either resist this, or go with it. I vote for the latter. It's very possible that the new will bring with it better things and a more positive result than if I were to stick to the 'tried and true' (although that also has its merits in many cases)
I worried about the turtles being in a new and unfamiliar environment - and now I see it would have been selfish of me to keep them here when they seem so much better off where they are right now.

from L-R - Shogun & Sushi

I can't say for sure how things are going to unfold for me in 2011, (even with my limited understanding of Astrology - and since I'm not a fortune-teller) I can only try to anticipate possible influences and remain aware of my motivations and plan my days and weeks responsibly on a desk calendar. I can't guarantee that I'll be in the best of moods or in the best of health every single day, but I will do all I can to keep getting up each day, regardless of the urge to just stay lying down like a gigantic paperweight.  
The boys are all right...and I believe - I will be too.
*Rock & Roll*


Note: For those who are wondering where "The Sticks" is - it's our house in Victoria, Laguna. It's an hour and a half's drive from Manila, sometimes two, depending on the traffic.

If Only for One.

Must.Get.Better.
It sucks to be sick. To have a medical condition that requires maintenance medication, doctor's visits and possibly blood tests more often than you're happy with. I'm not even talking about the 'need to be hospitalized' kind of sick, that would suck even more.  I mean the financially draining utterly frustrating kind of sick that means you take medication regularly or you die. Or if not, you end up in the hospital and incur an even greater financial blow.
Unless you have money stashed away in some bank account in Switzerland, have access to an unlimited amount of cash or gold, get funding from God or some higher power - even then - there seems to be better use for money other than doctor fees and medicine expenses. Oh. I forget, that's why parents like it when their children want to be doctors, for a "bright and assured" future of never having to worry about money. I'm not anti-doctor, in fact, my life expectancy has been given an extension courtesy of modern medicine and skilled doctors. The blood tests show that - despite all the medication I've had to take, my kidneys and liver are A-OK. But still. It sucks. Seems cheaper to be dead. Plus, you don't even need to pay taxes when you're dead. Sigh.
So. What's the point in all this? There are governments that are rife with corruption, leaders who misplace, mismanage and pocket funds that are meant to make people's lives better, people who are falsely charged, detained, spirited away and missing, taken away from their wondering and worried families, people who - trusted public officials enough to place them in positions of power - and there are those who have nothing. Nothing. No home, no livelihood, no family, no friends. Not much of a life.
What is the point?
If getting up in the morning is so difficult, think of the person who doesn't even have arms to push themselves up off the bed, or legs to walk to the bathroom. There are many reasons to be grateful about not being dead, although there are days when I am hard pressed to come up with one. This might just be one of them.  
But let me stop for a moment and remember some things. Just because you think your being on this earth doesn't matter, you never know that there is someone out there who'd rather have your life than the one they currently have. Someone who possibly looks up to you and wishes that someday, they can be close to being somewhat like you (this, provided you aren't a drug-lord, smuggler or a swindler). If the way you live your life becomes a good example for living well, then you have every right to walk with your head held high because it's hard to be a good person in a world that has seemingly lost its wits. So much easier to be angry, rather than to remain calm in the face of aggression; so much easier to give up and say - damn this all, I QUIT! It's more of a challenge to get up and face each day as it comes, with all the chores and demands that one's life brings with it.  It could be pain, it could be meetings to no end, it could be dealing with people you'd rather not be dealing with - it could be attempting what seems impossible within the limited time you have been given to accomplish something. Challenging. I am not the competitive sort, plus I hate to lose (then again, very few people actually enjoy that) so I can be accused of a certain Laodecian attitude. I do, however, due to a glitch in my personality, have it in me to get really worked up about certain issues - while I stay aggravatingly silent on others. I have my opinions, many I keep to myself, but certainly not all of them. I talk faster than my brain can process things sometimes, so my mouth gets me in trouble more than I care to remember. Must.Learn.To.Shut.Up.
But hey! this is a blog - so, it would be pointless if I didn't write anything, n'est ce pas?  
I remember having a chat with a very good friend of mine, many years back - who was not feeling like she was the best place in her life - and I recall reminding her - that she might not have any idea that there might be someone out there, some kid who knows of her, looks up to her and aims to follow her footsteps someday. If only for that one kid, then doing what she does should be worth it. She need not know for a fact about this kid, but the possibility of it is always there - especially if you are a relatively public figure.
Now, for the rest of us - there could be someone who knows of you, or even someone who actually knows you personally, that looks up to you - and you don't know it. Live in a way that sets a positive example whenever you can.
Who knows if just the sight of you is enough to brighten up someone's day?
A smile can make a world of difference, even if it is given to someone you don't know. So give them out - smile with your eyes, from your heart, because you mean it. Strangers are just new friends whose names you don't know. Just don't smile at new friends in dark alleyways, because that's just creepy and possibly dangerous, okay? =)

Mural @ Sunway Medical Center, photo by Mark Montalban 

If by being alive, you have the opportunity to touch a life, make a difference, no matter how small, in the life of at least one person - then maybe, just maybe, it will be worth it. ツ

Tiger, The Yorkshire Terrier, Turns 14

Tiger, my mom's geriatric (although he doesn't look it) Yorkshire Terrier, turned 14 years old on February 10th 2011.
Now, my mom celebrated her birthday on the 8th, and being out in The Sticks, all I recall us having for lunch was turbo chicken - where all you do is probably marinate it with butter or something, put in the broiler, set the timer and leave it be till the bell rings, telling you it's done and fit to serve. Then later that evening, my brother, Mark came over and brought a cake. =) 
However. It being Tiger who is a year older - we had steak for lunch. Not just *any* steak - my mom clarified and made sure I realized the import of this fact - we had Tenderloin Steak! None of that 'Breakfast Steak' to celebrate this special day. No way! =P

Steak & Soup Lunch
(taken with a SonyW350i phone camera, not bad, eh?)

I've always joked about how my mother would let kidnappers take my other siblings - should we ever be nabbed, but would not think twice about selling the house to come up with the money to ransom her "youngest" baby. This steak incident is just a reinforcement of that funny story. hahaha. seriously.
This dog, like so many of the other pampered, loved and cared for pets out there - has most likely forgotten that he is not human. He probably believes he IS Human! He refuses to simply lay on the floor sometimes and will only sleep soundly if he is on a pillow or some mattress. Such a spoiled boy! Like Lassie (that wonder-dog of yore) he knows to let you know if he wants something - like remind you that his water dish needs to be refilled, or that you've probably forgotten to share your lunch with him.  He has a way about him, a look - that you can almost *hear* him saying out loud - "Hellooooooooooooo...am I not in the room???"  One time, i recall my dad telling of an instance when - he had turned off some of the room lights while Tiger was eating dinner.  A few minutes later, he noticed, Tiger was standing in front of him, staring directly at him. (strange because at the age he is in, Tiger probably has very very poor eyesight!) But anyway, my dad gets up wondering what the matter was.  He switched on the room lights, and almost immediately, Tiger again started to eat. Odd.  Apparently, Tiger was thinking - Who in their right mind would expect ME to eat in the dark???? What do they think I am? a BAT??? GADS. There are countless conversations I have in my head of what Tiger might actually be thinking - many of them when my mom has it in her head to make him wear clothes - she even makes him wear a jacket, and if I remember correctly, as a Halloween costume, once got him these tiny gossamer wings and turned him into a fairy. Seriously.

Tiger wearing a beret. Yes. seriously.

THIS is what I get. THIS, was my fault. I specifically recall a conversation with my mom, many, many years back - when my mom was at the height of her "I wonder when I am going to have grandchildren" phase...that I blithely replied: grandchildren??? Why don't you just get a dog?! And she did.
And oh, the rewards of that. For my mom, anyway - Tiger is devoted to her. Sits quietly at her lap and follows her every move as closely as a falcon its prey, or like a mother hen watches over its brood. It's so bad that he even sits and waits outside the door when she goes and takes a shower!  When my mom had to leave for work in the South, and she didn't bring Tiger with her - he was listless and forlorn.  I suggested she call and leave a message on the telephone answering machine, just so Tiger could hear her voice. I was worried that he hadn't been eating much since she'd left. I happened to be there when the call came in - and saw Tiger's reaction.
His ears perked up and he was spinning wildly to determine where my mom's voice was coming from. It was an amazing spectacle.  I promised not to answer the phone so my mom really WAS calling for Tiger's benefit. When the call ended and it was properly assumed that she was NOT in the room, Tiger resumed his lonely post on his bed and commenced to sulk. No amount of calling or petting would really make him get up and make walking around worth his while.  Needless to say - the next trip my mom took - she took Tiger with her.  He can even tell when it is my mom, and not someone else who is nearby.
He has a strange aversion to my dad, and pointedly refuses to approach whenever it is my dad calling him - he would rather opt to head for under the table, or walk in the direction of where my mom is.  When my dad manages to pick him up, you can see Tiger making a futile effort to make himself heavier (not easy when you're a Yorkie, mind you!) and this can be attested to by my dad. Or sometimes, he'll cast a begging look in my mom's direction as if to say: "Save Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" it's funny really.
I remember a time when even I am not spared from his condescension. I came home one time to be greeted at the door - and when he realized it wasn't my mom - he takes one snobbish snort, then promptly turned tail and walked away from me.. almost like saying: "Oh...It's just you." Insulted! By a DOG! Well, I never!!! hahahaha. That's Tiger for you.
However, when my mom comes home, that's a different story. When she gets home after an afternoon out - he hops and wriggles like a puppy about to be given a treat - I bet if he could jump out of his skin, he would, just for the sheer joy of knowing my mom has come home. Before she leaves, or if my mom and I have an errand to run that may take a while, i remind her to "explain" to Tiger that we're heading out, and that he can't go because he isn't allowed where we're going, or that he might get too tired (or bored) there.. yes, yes, we're a crazy lot. =P But that seems to alleviate the anxiety for Tiger, because if she does just leave with no prior explanation and is gone for a while - she can expect to come home to yips and yelps from Tiger as if to say: "Where the hell WERE you? and WHY DID YOU TAKE SO LOOOOOOONG?" 
And now, Tiger is 14. That's a long time in dog years. Don't ask me to calculate how old that is in Human terms - but that's pretty old.  He actually seems younger these days and remains staunchly devoted to my mother.
At least these days, my mom no longer nags or wonders if she's ever going to have grandchildren. =P Maybe she's finally given that thought up. *whew*

Tiger

I have written this post, specifically at the behest of my mom. And as a gift to the "birthday boy"...Also because I'm sure I won't hear the end of it if I didn't.

;-) So! To everyone who loves their pets - May you enjoy many many more years of love and companionship! Mabuhay!!!