Thankful Thoughts

The past few days have been less than stellar for me.

Waiting for Ghost Month to end its run and the disturbing developments in the news keep on coming. I really should consider giving up watching television for a while. But then again, how realistic is that? Hmmmm.

I have to make a conscious effort not to foam at the mouth or hyperventilate as I recount the various issues that upset me - usually issues I can't really do anything about. It's a losing and pointless battle, I know.

Having Lupus has been a tiring experience - today, I woke up feeling worse than usual - with my body screaming in various degrees of pain and moving seems to be punishment for not being dead.

It's also been interesting living with bipolar disorder, but I've managed fairly well without medication for a while now, it is only recently that I've been having anxiety issues again.

In this light - I start to think of what there is to be grateful for.

I'm grateful for my dog. Logan is the love of my life. My raison d'être. He makes waking up a worthwhile thing.

I'm grateful for my family. Their support and understanding has been phenomenal and I am so lucky that I was born into this crazy coterie.

I'm grateful for my friends. Lucky that I've been blessed with so many creative, colorful and quirky individuals who I love to spend time with and who always make me feel so blessed because they are in my life.

I was told that better days are coming - and in my sarcasm - I hope that means that all the bad people will drop dead or will all be thrown to the sharks or lions to be disemboweled or ripped to shreds. But all right, to be more reasonable, I'll settle for World Peace. Is that too much to ask?!

The Universe loves me, and I shouldn't forget that.

So, I'm grateful for another day on this planet. Thank you to all of you who make my life so memorable. Your support has been instrumental in vastly improving my quality of life, simply because you are all part of it.

I wish you peace. I wish you freedom from pain and anxiety and of course - I wish you love.

Better days are coming, and I'm sure we'll all be there to enjoy it when it does.

Bittersweet Beginings...

I am happy and sad today.

Whitey, a stray dog that I've been feeding for the past couple of months has been "rescued" this evening.

I first noticed the little straggler on my way to the car one afternoon sometime in December 2013. A mid-sized dog was staggering by the side of the road. I watched in horror as he took a few slow steps, proceeded to retch and throw up a bit of foamy bile and keel over. I was on my way to a friend's house for dinner so I thought that would be the last I saw of the dog.

I was wrong. This dog was a survivor.

Maybe a month or so later, I saw him wandering about slowly near the parked cars along the busy road of the condo where I live. He seemed generally wary of the world, but mobile, so I called out to him - "You're alive!" He only looked at me with a look that seemed to say "I know, right???"

The next time I encountered the White dog, he was sleeping on the landing of the fire escape where I usually hang out. He wakes up, takes a quick look at me and skulks off downstairs. Obviously, used to being shooed off by humans who don't like having him around, I suppose?

In the days that followed, I would see him walking up and down the road while these cars and trucks whizz by. It was a heart stopping and precarious sight to watch. He always manages to avoid being hit by the vehicles and ambles off like he was taking a leisurely walk in the park.

One day, I noticed he had plastic string tied around his neck, a makeshift collar? Not sure if that was a good or bad thing. Another week or so passes that I don't see him around.

The next time I see the dog, he has a wound on his neck from where the plastic rope cut into it. He still seemed fairly calm and meek and I called out to him. He stops in his tracks and looks straight at me. My heart melted.

The following evening on my way out to take Logan for a walk, I put out a small tin of dogfood for the White dog.
I stood there as he slowly came by to check out my offering, which he decided was acceptable. I watched as he took a few bites then took the tin in his mouth and walks a few steps away from me with the food.

This practice goes on for a few more weeks.

By the end of the 2nd week, the White dog would wag his tail happily as he sees me walking up the road towards him. He is usually around in the evening, and has taken to meeting me by the car when we arrive. He also seems to recognize my dad, mom and sister - but he always has his tail wag greeting waiting for me as I walk by.

On days when I don't leave the condo, I head downstairs after dinner to look for the White dog. The guards here, used to me walking out for my rendezvous keep a watchful eye on me as I feed my canine customer. Sometimes when I can't see the dog, one of the younger guards starts looking behind the parked cars with a flashlight to help me locate him.

More often than not tho, the dog is waiting patiently by the side of the building and will walk towards me as I slowly make my way to him with his daily ration. Always the tail wag as a greeting. I watch him eat for a while and walk back upstairs for the night.

Apparently, the old man in the canteen downstairs also leaves food for the White dog which he places along the curb on the other side of the road from the canteen. But always, always, I have him waiting for me or walking towards me each night.

My mom starts calling the dog, "Whitey". Because he is so dirty, a more appropriate name would have been Grey.

I had asked a friend about what I could do to help Whitey - seeing that the wound around his neck was looking worrisome. I was told that I could get him treated but would have to bring him to the shelter in Quezon City which is at the border of Marikina. Not sure how I would pull that off, I had to make do with just feeding him each night and hope that his wound miraculously heals.

One night, as I was on my way out, I notice an empty cage by the side of the parked cars downstairs. Whitey was standing uncertainly nearby, but he waited patiently for me to put out his food for him. There were two volunteers nearby who were apparently planning to rescue him so he could get his wound treated by a veterinarian. They were from Philippine Animal Lovers Society. I place Whitey's tin of food inside the waiting cage and had to head off to dinner.

When I get back a few hours later, the security guard hands me a small slip of paper with a mobile phone number on it. Apparently, Whitey refused to be rescued. The next evening, I pick out a harness and leash for Whitey. I sit beside him as he ate his dinner and afterwards attempted to put the harness on him. He meekly let me put his paws into the harness. he doesn't start to freak out until the leash is put on the harness. Then he starts complaining with a pained yowl. The leash had to be let go and he scurries off and away - harness, leash and all. I spent a sleepless night hoping the leash didn't snag on anything or that no one would detain and hurt him further.

The next evening, Whitey is at his usual spot, waiting for me to show up with his dinner. The harness and leash were gone. The two volunteers from PALS were also there that night. They had a spare harness and leash and I tried to get Whitey to stand still long enough to put on the harness again.

Stray dogs are a special kind of smart. Their survival instinct is so keen that they learn real quick what is good and what is not. Whitey was his usual meek self, but would refuse to stand still long enough for me to properly put the harness on him again. Each time one of the volunteers would come near to help me, Whitey would start to walk away. Rescue attempt - FAIL.

We decide to give Whitey a few days to 'get over'the attempt to save him. We all agreed that I'd keep feeding him and try to attach the harness and leash again after a few days.

Tonight, 5 days after the initial rescue attempt, I hear from the guard downstairs that Whitey has finally been caught.

I went downstairs and stood by the cage where Whitey was. He looks at me pleadingly and paws at the bars of the cage. My heart starts to break. I try to explain to him that he needs to see a doctor to get his wound fixed and that he will soon be going to a loving home where he will never have to worry about his next meal or fear that he might be roadkill or dinner for drunkards. He continues to paw at the bars and starts whimpering.

I've been told that someone has already agreed to take Whitey in after his wounds have been treated. There is a forever home wajiting for him - in Quezon City.

My favorite novel happens to be The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupéry.

Whitey is my Fox. We've gotten so used to seeing each other that I don't know what it would be like to not have him waiting for me each night for his dinner. I keep reminding myself that he will be much better in his future forever home, and that finally - finally - he will get his wound treated. Time to be the better human and let Whitey have his happy ending.

Still it doesn't get easier for me to imagine evenings without the dirty White dog that I've grown to love.

I'm happy that he will get treated, but sad that I won't see him anymore. Selfish, bipolar Babs. I need my meds.

I love you Whitey, thanks for being the brave and sweet dog that you are.

I will miss you.

Be good, you'll be all right. I'll say a prayer for you and keep you in my heart.

My Fangirl Valentine

I am not a big fan of Valentine's Day, never have been, didn't figure I would be.

What I AM though, is a fan of local singer, Sarah Geronimo or Sarah G, as she is more popularly called lately. Yes, THE Popstar Princess.

It was with mixed emotions that I found out that she was having a show at The Glorietta in Makati on - (God Help Me!) Valentine's Day. It being, in my mind, the worst possible day to be at a mall - ANY mall. I was determined to catch the show.

I think I just went and lost my mind.

My mom was more than willing to help me accomplish this, so that part of the plan was set.
We were going to head to the mall early to get parking easily and beat the 'Valentine's Rush".

Up until yesterday, the closest encounter I've had with Sarah G was to watch her concerts at The Araneta Coliseum (sometimes alone if necessary) and at least once with my parents in tow. I also try to catch her show Sarah G, Live! on television. The tv show, although popular, just had it's Finale the past weekend. *Insert Sad Face here*

So that is how I ended up deciding to troop to a mall on Valentine's Day despite the invisible "Abandon Hope All Ye who Enter Here" sign I saw in my head.

A CD purchase entitles you to sit in the cordoned off audience area right in front of the small stage, an "intimate" setting compared to the massive concert venue that is The Araneta Coliseum.

I sat in my wheelchair and made friends with the people around me. I found out that the red stub that came with the CD meant I could get Sarah to sign the disc after the show.

My brain went on neutral.

I didn't think I'd get a chance to actually see her up close!

I tried not to hyperventilate.

As the show started, I was swept up in what felt like a mass hallucination and gave in to the general hysteria of fans around me who were avidly singing along or cheering as the performance took place.

I tried to take photos with my mobile phone, but it was getting in the way of my actually "watching" and enjoying the show, plus I noticed early on that signal jammers seemed to be in effect because I could not get online, so I figured it was pointless to add a photo on Instagram at that moment.

So I put my phone away after a few attempts at mobile photography.

I gave in. I cheered, clappped and sang along with the rest of the "Popsters" in the audience that day. For that moment, I was one of them, and it was splendid!

As the show ended and the audience was invited to form a single line in front of the stage, my new found friends were nice enough to offer to help me find my way to the stage for my turn to get my CD signed.

As we inched along, I looked at everyone around me and was impressed by the fanbase that this performer had. You could feel the love. Some fans had lighted posters, several had bouquets and roses and even stuffed toys to give to their idol. I had just my CD which I was going to get autographed. It was all so surreal!

When I was finally standing in front of the table where Sarah G was sitting, I was rendered speechless as I looked into the eyes of this girl whom I've only seen on television and several hundred feet away on a stage. She looked back at me kindly enough and I managed to say my name for her to scribble on the CD I had with me.

I can see why fans would have a "The heavens opened up and angels wept" moment when faced with someone they admire.

Sarah made success seem more accessible. She was talented, but still so very real. Despite what must be a busy schedule, she appeared serene in the midst of chaos. There were marshals surrounding the table to ensure that the signing went on as smoothly as possible,discouraging photos in the name of expediency. The managers standing nearby were firm, but not unkind. As I smiled at Sarah in front of me, it felt like looking into an oasis in the desert. As I walked off, I told her to give her a dogs (Yorkshire Terriers like my dog, Logan) a hug for me. She nodded back, smiling.

I have gotten teased for being a fan of Sarah G, from friends who found it amusing that I seriously go and watch this singer's concerts or buy her CDs but I don't mind. I enjoy listening to her sing and watching her perform and she seems like a really nice kid on top of all that!

I'll be waiting to watch her movies and will make it a point to see her upcoming concerts and yes, buy the audio CDs. Say what you want, I think Sarah G is Amazeballs!

To quote the screaming fans in the audience - "We Love You Sarah!!!!!" ;-)

Mabuhay!

Zombie Apocalypse, My Strange Obsession

To friends and family who may be concerned (or annoyed) by what seems to be an inordinate obsession with the Zombie Apocalypse, this note is for you.


Mornings are the most difficult for me.

Each day I wake up feeling like someone left a brick wall over me the night before.
Getting up on a daily basis proves to be an ordeal which requires careful consideration and an extra amount of willpower. The chronic pain that is part and parcel of having Lupus has not been the greatest party on earth –
if I could just wake feeling no pain whatsoever, then it would be a near miraculous morning.

One learns to live with the discomfort, but there are days when it just feels too challenging to simply sit up – good thing I don’t sleep soundly and wake up early, it gives me time to stare at the ceiling long enough to convince myself that moving my arms or stretching might be a good idea before I actually need to be up and out of bed.

There is a part of me that knows there will be NO Zombie Apocalypse – that I am more likely to perish from a stroke, heart or kidney failure than battling the undead with an appetite for human flesh and brain. The other voices in my head however, raise a ruckus and goad me to get moving and stretch my sore muscles just in case zombies do invade the country. One never knows, right? So I give in to the other voices for good measure.

The belief that I will actually be physically ready to deal with the Zombie Apocalypse is a dream that I nourish, coupled with a realistic assessment of my physical fitness (or lack thereof) as I figure out what weapon or mode of escape I can best make use of during the onslaught. I practice brandishing my cane like a baseball bat but realize it might be too flimsy to be any good, I keep at it anyway.

It gives me a purpose for getting up and out of bed and stretching the pain away from my body. I also have to get up to make sure that the dog gets his breakfast, but that is a different story. ;-)

In the midst of my fixation with this impending catastrophe, I still remember to look both ways before crossing the street or make sure I watch my step as I make my way down a tricky path or staircase. How can I expect to wield a weapon and use it if I can barely make my way out of anywhere?

Since there are many mornings that the soreness I feel in my joints cause me to walk like a zombie, I might just get away with ‘blending in' with the throng – but this will only work if I douse myself with blood and innards so I will not smell suspiciously alive – not an option I would like to actually have to take. (I saw this on an episode of The Walking Dead and this plan would, quite literally go down the drain if it starts to rain because the downpour would just wash my disguise clean off me.) I obviously need a better plan!

In the meantime, as I fool myself into thinking I’ve got a fighting chance of surviving the Apocalypse, I scour the Internet for stories and tips on how best to deal with zombies. I post photos and signs on Facebook that alternately points out and makes fun of the belief that the Zombie Apocalypse is indeed almost upon us. I remind friends that we’ve got to prepare ourselves by sharing news reports and write ups that have to do with possible zombie attacks.

So yes, it seems silly to worry about it given the many other problems that the country – and the rest of the world – seem to be dealing with at present but this is MY reality and how I choose to motivate myself to get thru another day riddled with painful joints or intermittent dizzy spells is my choice.

I make plans to meet friends, watch a movie or take the puppy out for some fresh air, I still do what most sane and rational people do for recreation – but this need I have to prepare fastidiously for Zombies invading the country just won’t go away.

It’s probably just a phase, but for now, it works. I just have one request = Walang basagan ng trip.*
(*don’t ruin my fun)

Mabuhay!!!

Lessons Logan taught me...

When Logan wants something he will stop at nothing until he gets it.

With a single-mindedness of purpose he always attempts to run off with his favorite 'stolen treasures' - my spectacles, my mobile phone, a ballpen, a scrap of paper, a sheaf of tissue.

Dogged determination. I now understand why that term was coined.

Each time he takes something, he runs like he stole it (because really, he *did*)
When cornered and brought to account, knowing whatever is in his possession doesn't belong to him, he drops it like its hot.

Every chance he gets, he guns for the prize, giving his whole furry being into whatever purpose he's set out to fulfill at the moment. Whether he thinks he owns the item or just wants to play, he knows what he wants.

He is very consistent. His tactics may change, but his goal remains the same.
Impressive for an 8 month old puppy.

My dog manages to get the better of me sometimes and seems smarter than some people I know.

He will find a way to get what he wants, eventually - even when you think he has no hope of getting it. When he sees whatever his little heart desires, he'll bug you for it, keep at it, persevere till you finally give in out of sheer exasperation - or take it when you're not paying attention.

So pay attention.

As in life, it helps to know what you want. If you can set your sights right you go for whatever it is, even if sometimes the path to what you want isn't all too easy.

When you get what you want, run like it's stolen.

If you have something that doesn't really belong to you, drop it like its hot.

Pay attention, you will get your chance to try again.

When cornered, find a way to escape.

Repeat as necessary.

note: Logan also seems to know what things belong to him, and he always keeps them on his bed or retrieves it when he notices it is where it isn't supposed to be. Fascinating. The puppy is more organized than me!

Reasons.

I woke up today.

Feeling every bit like I've been run over by a truck that lost its brakes, another day begins for me.

The pain I wake up to daily is something like a second skin, it is just - there.

Today is no different.

A reason to get up and out of bed is Logan staring up at me expectantly, waiting for me to fix his breakfast.

Must get moving.

I shuffle to the kitchen counter and fix a dish of dog food which is softened with water. I let it sit for a while. I make my coffee and brush my teeth while waiting for the coffeemaker to get done with my drink.

Another reason to keep moving is Logan wanting to play fetch.

He drops his ball at my feet and sits patiently while I slowly bend down to pick up the toy. *Throw*

He scurries off after the prize and runs back to me with the ball in his mouth.
*drops ball at my feet again*

I manage to toss the ball midway through the room where Logan zooms off after it.

I walk back to bed and slowly lie down again. I feel like death warmed over.

Logan jumps up on the bed, bounces off my legs and makes straight for my face.

A good reason to pull a pillow over my face to cover it.

Logan dives under the pillow to try to get a good nip at my ear.

A reason to roll to my side and snuggle deeper under the pillow.

I feel every movement like a scream and all the while I have a puppy waiting for me to give it a hug. I pick him up and cuddle the furry bundle of energy.

You don't notice pain as much when you have a little dog in your arms.

A quick time-check tells me the coffee should be done and Logan's breakfast should be ready as well.

I get up from bed as tediously as the first time and switch on the computer on my way back to the kitchen counter.

A reason to get up early is I don't need to rush too much before I begin work.

A reason to keep going is my coffee is ready and Logan's breakfast must be served.

I sit down at the computer, typing slowly and log in to begin my day's work.

A reason to work - buy more doughnuts, coffee and dog food.

I feel Logan lay down by my feet and drift off to sleep. I watch him settle into slumber like only a puppy can.

The pain I feel in every muscle where even my skin hurts is still there, but I've got a reason to get up today aside from work - there's a puppy named Logan expecting me to play when he wakes up from his nap.

For today, that is enough.

Oh, that's right! It's 2012!

I have been remiss.

My last entry was the beginning of the fourth quarter of 2011 and since then, it appears that life has gotten in the way of my blogging habit.

ok. excuses, excuses.

I must say though, I've been doing my best to keep up with life and the demands that come with it. The fun, not so fun, stressful, exhilarating, awesome, sometimes dreary, often interminable, but always engaging experience of simply being alive.

I've also been kept busy by the demands of raising a persistent puppy - a Yorkshire Terrier named Logan. Many days I firmly believe he is actually a Monk-eroo (a cross between a monkey and a kangaroo) I don't ever recall Tiger (mom's 14, soon to be 15 year old Yorkie) being quite as playful. But my days are full.

I also, as of late, have not been feeling as tip-top as in the early parts of 2011. No cause for alarm, I suppose it is just the course of the dis-ease running right along with me.

2012 has been good so far, I have several things I'd like to share on my blog which we can hope I will get to posting soon.

I just need to dust off the cobwebs in my brain and get my act together.

New friends, new plans, new habits, new experiences.

It was an exciting end of the year and a most intriguing start for another chapter in life.

Life remains good, The Universe is still working things out in our favor (yes, believe it or not!) and I have every intention of having a fantastic year ahead.

Keep me company, it'll be fun!

Rock & Roll people,Rock & Roll!!!

Mabuhay!

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!