Because crowds can make a person feel even more alone sometimes, it can be very nice indeed to sit around by oneself, close one’s eyes and imagine that it is a busy afternoon of roasting chicken, cooking spaghetti and making salads.
A little girl is sneaking into the kitchen to make herself her fourth or fifth ham sandwich with butter and cheese. Her mother tells her to stop that right now or else she won’t touch her dinner. Irritated, she yells back that she will touch her dinner. The father laughs and tells his wife to leave the child alone. She flashes her mother a very triumphant smile and walks away with her food. Her father's Christmas wish is for the teeny weenie girl to gain some weight and to be good for at least thirty percent of the next year.
There is an old but large green Christmas tree with silver bells and angels in the living room. The little girl likes the presents under the tree from relatives and friends but what she really wants for Christmas is a baby brother – interestingly enough, not a baby sister but that would have probably been just as well.
One of the neighbors has a spectacular stereo with a set of speakers blasting Christmas Carols into the street. Pasko na naman, the song goes. Come eight or nine, they will be calling the kids in the block for an exchange of gifts so her mother dresses her up in a pretty dress, warning her against spaghetti, chocolate and mud stains then sends her off to the street party. The little girl knows she is going to get something lame again like a picture frame or a photo album but it doesn’t really matter. It’s one more piece of wrapping paper to tear apart with gusto and doing that always feels fantastic.
She puts that one present under the Christmas tree with silver bells and angels. She knows unwrapping them will have to wait until after the Christmas Mass which will start off with a very long and frankly not very interesting reenactment of birth of Christ. The little girl has always imagined that moment to be more magical than a bunch of amateur actors giving gifts to some plastic baby in a manner that is very perfunctory actually. The very moment the three kings appear on the make-shift stage, the little girl wishes she were at home and eating ham.
Because Noche Buena at home is always something else. It’s two kinds of ham (one sweet and one Chinese), some spaghetti (the only dish her mother can properly make), leche flan, fruits of all kind, some salad, hot dogs with marshmallows, bread with butter or cheese, roasted chicken and hot chocolate. The little girl’s grandmother is so good at preparing food that a plate of bihon with some bread on the side always looks very special indeed. It’s the touch of green and red garnish on top that makes the difference. Or maybe not. The little girl can never be sure why but everything is a little nicer when lola makes it.
Christmas songs are still blasting from the neighbor’s speakers; the adults are now pressing the girl to open her presents. The little girl’s father secretly wishes and he probably does every year that he could give her exactly what she wants but that’s not always possible. She tears every piece of wrapping paper with extra excitement anyway. He and his wife are glad.
The little girl goes to bed a few hours past midnight. There is no real need to wait for Santa. The little girl knows it is Christmas enough with this many angels looking after her.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The universe is telling me something
The universe is telling me something. And if you have ever had the universe tell you anything, you would know that this is truly something else.
Once when I was 21 and somewhat sad, I stood by the sidewalk, watching vehicles go by, thinking I’ve never had it this bad before. The sun shone in a second and rain sparkled like diamonds on the pavement. And I was filled by such a spirit that I didn’t find it at all odd to find diamonds scattered on the streets. It was as though they were always everywhere to begin with. And I knew right then that it was okay to let go of the tears I was pushing back. The universe said, sparkle.
And when the universe tries to say something, it’s always a grand conspiracy. You wake from a dream you couldn’t quite remember but it stays with you while you have your first cup of coffee. It feels as though you have had that same dream before and you’ve been waking up with the same feeling. It continues to distract you a bit while you walk to your desk. You hear a particular song and find it odd that you should hear this now. This is all just foreshadowing or maybe an opportunity to figure out how you feel about what the universe is about to propose.
This goes on for some time because the universe knows it’s not easy to ask a girl to decide how she feels about this and that. And so time, the universe gives with one seemingly meaningless event after another. But if you are the type who believes (as I obviously am) that the universe slips you little post-its from time to time, you may be able to gradually decipher cleverly coded messages: a photograph that tells you that you’ve been here before and it took you a while to get back on your feet, a note that told you something you didn’t know and wouldn’t be comfortable knowing, some advice you hear yourself giving – one which you yourself badly need and a look in the eye that confirms everything.
You sit down for a long time staring at the wall, thinking, I think I know what to do. You think it’s clear but you’re not sure. No, you’re sure but you don’t feel strong enough to actually do it. Then the universe gives you the push of a lifetime. And then you are once again overcome by the same spirit as though everything now makes perfect sense. This time the universe is telling you simply that you always knew.
Once when I was 21 and somewhat sad, I stood by the sidewalk, watching vehicles go by, thinking I’ve never had it this bad before. The sun shone in a second and rain sparkled like diamonds on the pavement. And I was filled by such a spirit that I didn’t find it at all odd to find diamonds scattered on the streets. It was as though they were always everywhere to begin with. And I knew right then that it was okay to let go of the tears I was pushing back. The universe said, sparkle.
And when the universe tries to say something, it’s always a grand conspiracy. You wake from a dream you couldn’t quite remember but it stays with you while you have your first cup of coffee. It feels as though you have had that same dream before and you’ve been waking up with the same feeling. It continues to distract you a bit while you walk to your desk. You hear a particular song and find it odd that you should hear this now. This is all just foreshadowing or maybe an opportunity to figure out how you feel about what the universe is about to propose.
This goes on for some time because the universe knows it’s not easy to ask a girl to decide how she feels about this and that. And so time, the universe gives with one seemingly meaningless event after another. But if you are the type who believes (as I obviously am) that the universe slips you little post-its from time to time, you may be able to gradually decipher cleverly coded messages: a photograph that tells you that you’ve been here before and it took you a while to get back on your feet, a note that told you something you didn’t know and wouldn’t be comfortable knowing, some advice you hear yourself giving – one which you yourself badly need and a look in the eye that confirms everything.
You sit down for a long time staring at the wall, thinking, I think I know what to do. You think it’s clear but you’re not sure. No, you’re sure but you don’t feel strong enough to actually do it. Then the universe gives you the push of a lifetime. And then you are once again overcome by the same spirit as though everything now makes perfect sense. This time the universe is telling you simply that you always knew.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
All in a day’s work
I teach English to ESL learners. If you do what I do, you are bound to hear the strangest things.
Shocked, I said, “Radish?”
“No, rabbit.”
“Are you sure?” As in Bugs Bunny?
After some frantic searching in his electronic dictionary, he clarified.
“Ah no. Carrot.”
My first chongks for each day is a diligent-looking fellow with round dark-rimmed glasses.
From the very start, I had a feeling he was “attentive to details” because once I told him,” Let me figure out your homework, give me some time to photocopy it and I’ll give it to you at four.”
And at four, he walked over to me and asked, “Where is it?”
I kind of got caught up with other important things like keeping myself updated with office gossip and lazing around with a cup of coffee that I completely forgot about what I had promised him.
So I gave him an old picture book of sorts and I gave him instructions. “Write sentences.”
He said, “on which pictures?”
I was going to say “on anyone of them” but that would give me away so I gave him a stern look and said “On all of them.” (This is exactly the kind of thing that makes them go, “Oh, good tutor.” Go figure.)
And then he said, “Just one sentence?”
I said, “yes.”
“Any kind of sentence?”
“Yes.”
Before the class ended this morning, we went through the same drill. I gave him 5 sentence patterns. “Write one sentence for each sentence pattern. That’s your homework.”
He said, “Follow this pattern?”
“Yes, write one for each sentence pattern”
“Just one sentence?” Then he started pointing at each pattern saying,”one sentence? one sentence? one sentence? one sentence? one sentence?”
“Yes, one.”
“Total 5?”
“Yes,” I told him but I was dying to say “No, ten” just to mess him up a little and laugh my nasty head off but I decided against it. He thinks I'm nice and I don't wanna break his heart.
The last story is a really old one. I had this funny adorable student once whom I got into an argument with over a sentence. He penned down on his notebook the following, “I make water.” Accustomed to such errors in usage, I corrected him sincerely, “Bill, you don't make water.” You can fetch a pail of water but make it you cannot. At that point, he launched a series of arguments to prove that his sentence was correct. I cant remember what he said. Moreover, I cant imagine how one person can so passionately argue the veracity of “I make water” but anyway, I ended the discussion with a drawing of a man holding his arms up the sky. In one hand, i wrote the letter “H” and on the other, “O2.” And then I drew a lightning bolt between the man’s arms. On the man’s shirt I wrote the name: “God.” Below, the following words, “He makes water.”
A few months later, the same student and I got into another argument about the word “people” being uncountable. It’s not. It’s plural. But since the definition of uncountable nouns is that they are nouns that can’t be counted (like air and water), he snapped –in his opinion, quite cleverly– at me, “You can count how many people world? How many? Huh? How many?”
No, Bill. I cant. Neither can I come up with the total number of birds, fish, dogs, trees, apples, pencils, cars, bicycles, bags, houses, buses… You know what? Let’s just stop counting altogether. They’re all uncountable.
I hereby declare all nouns uncountable.
***
A couple of years ago, a student was trying to explain how to cook a certain dish. “Put in some meat, potato, chili powder, blah, blah, blah…and rabbit.”Shocked, I said, “Radish?”
“No, rabbit.”
“Are you sure?” As in Bugs Bunny?
After some frantic searching in his electronic dictionary, he clarified.
“Ah no. Carrot.”
***
My first chongks for each day is a diligent-looking fellow with round dark-rimmed glasses.
From the very start, I had a feeling he was “attentive to details” because once I told him,” Let me figure out your homework, give me some time to photocopy it and I’ll give it to you at four.”
And at four, he walked over to me and asked, “Where is it?”
I kind of got caught up with other important things like keeping myself updated with office gossip and lazing around with a cup of coffee that I completely forgot about what I had promised him.
So I gave him an old picture book of sorts and I gave him instructions. “Write sentences.”
He said, “on which pictures?”
I was going to say “on anyone of them” but that would give me away so I gave him a stern look and said “On all of them.” (This is exactly the kind of thing that makes them go, “Oh, good tutor.” Go figure.)
And then he said, “Just one sentence?”
I said, “yes.”
“Any kind of sentence?”
“Yes.”
Before the class ended this morning, we went through the same drill. I gave him 5 sentence patterns. “Write one sentence for each sentence pattern. That’s your homework.”
He said, “Follow this pattern?”
“Yes, write one for each sentence pattern”
“Just one sentence?” Then he started pointing at each pattern saying,”one sentence? one sentence? one sentence? one sentence? one sentence?”
“Yes, one.”
“Total 5?”
“Yes,” I told him but I was dying to say “No, ten” just to mess him up a little and laugh my nasty head off but I decided against it. He thinks I'm nice and I don't wanna break his heart.
***
The last story is a really old one. I had this funny adorable student once whom I got into an argument with over a sentence. He penned down on his notebook the following, “I make water.” Accustomed to such errors in usage, I corrected him sincerely, “Bill, you don't make water.” You can fetch a pail of water but make it you cannot. At that point, he launched a series of arguments to prove that his sentence was correct. I cant remember what he said. Moreover, I cant imagine how one person can so passionately argue the veracity of “I make water” but anyway, I ended the discussion with a drawing of a man holding his arms up the sky. In one hand, i wrote the letter “H” and on the other, “O2.” And then I drew a lightning bolt between the man’s arms. On the man’s shirt I wrote the name: “God.” Below, the following words, “He makes water.”
***
A few months later, the same student and I got into another argument about the word “people” being uncountable. It’s not. It’s plural. But since the definition of uncountable nouns is that they are nouns that can’t be counted (like air and water), he snapped –in his opinion, quite cleverly– at me, “You can count how many people world? How many? Huh? How many?”
No, Bill. I cant. Neither can I come up with the total number of birds, fish, dogs, trees, apples, pencils, cars, bicycles, bags, houses, buses… You know what? Let’s just stop counting altogether. They’re all uncountable.
I hereby declare all nouns uncountable.
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