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.